Completing a marathon once in your life is a fabulous accomplishment. For some folks, once is not enough. For some of the women and men who will be walking and running the Portland Marathon with you, the marathon experience is one to be savored many times. For them, the repeating of the countless footfalls of training and the marathon itself become an affirmation of life and of being connected to the world.

The path of the Portland Marathon course will be very clear on race day. You'll know exactly where you are supposed to go, you'll find aid and you'll have support all along the way. Life isn't necessarily so neatly mapped. You never know if or where there will be a bump in the road or how you will navigate life's challenges.

Meet three women I affectionately call "repeat offenders". Together, they will have completed a dozen Portland Marathons by Sunday evening (September 30, 2001). Their stories of courage and commitment will be a source of inspiration for many on race day.

Chronic Disease Debbie Irwin, 36, of Eugene, Oregon was diagnosed with Multiple Sclerosis seven years ago. Unlike most people, Debbie had a family history of MS--her mother also has the disease. "My mom was diagnosed when she was 50 and I was 17. We knew nothing about MS. I learned about it on my own by reading books and seeking information so I could try and deal with it. I was the last one at home and I picked up a lot of duties when my mom got really sick after her father died. With physical therapy and exercise she regained most of her walking abilities, but permanent damage was done. To this day she swims regularly in her pool--with her arms only-her legs don't work--to keep up her strength. She barely can walk, but refuses to give up and be in a wheelchair. Tenacity runs in the family!" "My main motivation was to prove to myself that MS is not a life sentence. Most people hear about it and think that from that moment on they are going to be in a wheelchair and die shortly. That is just not the case!" Debbie was working full time as a primary school teacher. She and her husband had a brand new business; they had been trying for years to start a family and had just completed the paper work for adopting a child when her diagnosis came. "I knew I had it even before I went to the doctor. It was my worst nightmare come true." But quitting is not in Debbie's nature. She began treatments and has been helped by them. That same year, she and Larry welcomed newborn daughter, Hollie Anne, into their lives through adoption. "I stayed strong even with all of the stress of being an insta-mom." Early in 2000, co-worker and friend, Sharron Graham, broached the idea of joining Women Walk the Marathon. Since both were working part time, training to walk a marathon seemed like a fun idea and a challenge they could accomplish and still have some balance in their lives. They would be each other's training partner. "My main motivation was to prove to myself that MS is not a life sentence. Most people hear about it and think that from that moment on they are going to be in a wheelchair and die shortly. That is just not the case!" Debbie completed her first Portland Marathon in 2000 with a smile and with her daughter in her arms as she crossed the finish line. "I learned I can do anything I set my mind to do with the support of others." Her husband and core training group keep her going, and her mother is her "number one cheerleader!" "My neurologist calls me the 'poster child' for treatment and has asked me to be a contact person for newly diagnosed people through the National MS Society. Walking has given me a focus for my life. I have an 'athlete's blood pressure' (according to my neurologist), excellent muscle tone in my legs, a terrific attitude about my future health and have gained some long lasting friendships through the people that I train with." "I am realistic about life though. We are just about ready to move into our newly built house. We chose a one-story design and had all of the doorways built wide enough so that if I am ever in a wheelchair it will fit. The walkway up to the house is a ramped one with no steps." As Debbie approaches her second Portland Marathon, the path hasn't been necessarily smooth. She is returning to teaching full-time and moving to a new house a few weeks before the marathon. She has to pay attention to stress, which aggravates her symptoms, but she has learned to listen to the cues that she is pushing too hard. To others faced with chronic disease she encourages, "you are only limited by your determination." She lives by the motto "if you think you can or if you think can't, you're right!" "I know that possibly some day I might be in a wheelchair," says Irwin, "but I accept that fact. IF and when that happens I will deal with it and then begin training for the marathon in the wheelchair category. But until that time I will do everything I can to delay that day as long as possible. That is why I walk, because I CAN!"

Some Days the Sun Doesn't Shine Suzy Edward, 54, of Beaverton, Oregon came to Women Walk the Marathon in 1995. Her friend, Sue Monahan of Eugene, had called her up on day and asked if she wanted to take a walking class with her. "If you like it, I'll pay your way," she told her. "Walking? . . . that sounds good," she thought. "Marathon?" she wondered, "I don't know what that is, but it would be nice to take a class with Sue. "The funny thing is that it never occurred to me to ask and no one stated the actual distance at the first meeting. I guess it was assumed I would know and it was at least a month before it even occurred to me to ask!" Though it was a shock to find out how far she would have to walk, it never crossed Suzy's mind that she couldn't do it But then, why would it? In 1995, she was barely one year from the date of her sixth psychiatric in-patient stay in as many years. Walk 26.2 miles? That sounded very do-able. Life? Well, that was another matter. "When I was discharged from the hospital in 1994, I didn't feel any better than when I had gone in. Hospitalization hadn't worked and I was every bit as miserable at the end of my stay as when I entered. I knew I wasn't going to make it if I didn't change something. I needed a reason to live." But what to do? She knew that the struggle with a mental disorder is a daily fight against the urge to remain in isolation. "You don't want to get out of bed and you don't want to interact with anybody." So Suzy made a contact with herself: she had get out of her house to do something physical every day for 30 minutes--"just 15 minutes out and 15 minutes back." The agreement was to last three months. She didn't tell a soul so she wouldn't have to deal with the compound disappointment of others if she failed. But she didn't fail. At the end of three months, she renegotiated for another three-month stint and then another and pretty soon a year had passed. And, then, that life altering phone call started her on a walking adventure that includes fourteen marathons, seven here on the Portland Marathon course. Walking opened her world. "It's interesting to look back over these seven years. One of the things the walking did for me was to keep me focused, to keep me grounded. It gave a chance to listen and hear inside and time for myself to do that without any other distractions." Organization and structure were important. "Being a part of Women Walk the Marathon gave me a chance to walk with other people. I could listen to other people's stories and have other people to walk with. I discovered that more people than not faced all kinds of issues and found balance through walking--divorce, relationship issues, illness and the challenges with raising kids. All of us benefit from physical activity and a group of committed people we see every other week to talk to. Because the rules force you to stay positive, you can spend five or six hours walking with people who are focused on what's right in the world instead of what's making life hard at the moment." (WWM enforces the "60-Seconds of the Whine"--that is, everyone is allowed 60 seconds of whining per day, use it or lose it, period! ) "When you struggle with mental disorder, much of the contact you have with other people is about the disorder and about how you are doing. Often you've already isolated yourself from the world and the contact you do have is mostly with your therapist, your psychiatrist, and the support people in your life. For me, even the contact with my friends at my church became about my disorder and how I was doing. The one thing I was able to do by being a part of Women Walk the Marathon was that, unless I said something, no one knew about my disorder or my history or my struggles. Sometimes, by choosing to say something, I discovered there were a host of other people who had been down the same path. Other times, by not choosing to say something, I could have regular, normal conversations and never once talk about the disorder." "The hardest thing when you discover it's not a cure is not to give it up. You can't give up, because life is better with it than without it. I don't think, if you have a serious mental disorder you can do anything but get better in some small way if you get out and exercise every day. You become more confident, more secure, less depressed. Managing mental health is better with exercise and with a goal. It is a way to stay connected to the world and a way to get out into the world." It hasn't been a smooth path for Suzy physically either. Since her first marathon she's had the normal number of inconvenient injuries as well as, two foot surgeries and a major back surgery. "I can't believe how little I knew that first year. I ended up with a severe case of Achilles tendonitis without even knowing what it was. By the time I saw a doctor my heel was really hurting. I had to ride a stationary bike--now that's boring! I couldn't even wear shoes but kept on training on that doggoned bicycle. Completing the marathon had become very important and I knew I had to keep training to stay fit so I could ease back to my walking regimen." "The hardest thing when you are rehabilitating is to watch everyone else continue to train when you know you can't do what you once could. It's very hard not to give up or to quit completely." "I've been lucky to have the care of medical advisors who were able to offer perspective and encouragement. My physical therapist was able help me realize I wasn't a failure for only being able to walk one mile a month after my back surgery, that to walk a mile at that point was a big deal!" Suzy has learned that walking marathons is not a cure for mental disorders although the first year, she thought it would be. "The hardest thing when you discover it's not a cure is not to give it up. You can't give up, because life is better with it than without it. I don't think, if you have a serious mental disorder you can do anything but get better in some small way if you get out and exercise every day. You become more confident, more secure, less depressed. Managing mental health is better with exercise and with a goal. It is a way to stay connected to the world and a way to get out into the world." Today 26.2 miles is still do-able. The nice thing is that life, well, life feels more do-able most days, too.

Grief In May of 1998, Marcia Schekel, Vancouver, WA, and her husband were living in eastern Washington. They'd contemplated moving to Portland--their adult sons lived there, but the move wasn't complete. Then, on a sunny spring morning, their 27-year-old son, Matt, was killed in a bicycle accident on his way to work. Their lives changed forever. The initial months were hard--really hard. Were they wrong about moving here? "My husband and I looked at each other and said, 'this is a terrible shock, but we have to choose life.'" And so, the decision was made. Marcia came first and found an apartment on Mt. Tabor while her husband finished teaching at WSU. It was a challenge moving to a new place where she hardly knew a soul. With a history of depression, she knew she had to keep on walking for her mental health. "That first year, I knew my work was about drinking water and taking walks . . . but had more like a mile in mind!" A neighbor who knew she liked to walk found Women Walk the Marathon and encouraged her to go to a meeting. "I had no idea about walking 26.2 miles. I had a stereotype of what a marathoner looked like and that wasn't me, but I went and I looked around the room and decided to stay." That first year, "training was the gift because kept me moving. The marathon was just the frosting!" "When you have a major loss, you have to know the flowers are still growing and the birds are singing. That's part of the hope--remembering and hope. Hope for me was found in noticing new neighborhoods and gardens and flowers. It tells you that there's a bigger world than your own little world that's so dark at times." Walking the distance was a part of the healing process. "In walking longer distances, you challenge yourself. I would go into dips. In fact, my very first marathon I had a big dip around the University of Portland. I had big blisters on bottoms of my feet and I was very tired. But, I kept on walking and I learned something from that which I often reflect on: your feet can really hurt you, and you can have horrible blisters and you can still keep walking through that pain. Pain is not something I would cherish, but there's something about getting through that slump time that meant something to me." "You lose a part of yourself when you lose someone you love. I needed a way to build my confidence again. You can talk to people about your marathon and that helps build confidence. You can talk to people on a long walk (I call it the long talk!). I've met some real kindred people in Women Walk the Marathon, people who've gone through tough times and people who know others who've gone through some really tough times. There's something about walking and talking that's an important part of the healing process." Over these past three years Marcia is leaner, faster, and surer of herself. "That first year, my son, Zachary, gave me one of those silky athletic t-shirts. I would never have thought of myself walking in spandex in the middle of a big city! Now I've noticed when I 'm driving down the street, if I see women in athletic-type clothes, they're ageless. I like that! And, even though it was hard to say it out loud that first year, yes, I do see myself as an athlete." "In my grieving process, there is something about the fact that the pain and heartache no longer takes over your life. Not that it is gone. When Matt first died it was like a river rushing through me all the time. Now it's more like tiny little streams. It doesn't overwhelm me, doesn't take over my life. Because my physical health is better, it helps my spiritual health, too." To others lost in their grief, Marcia advises, "walk outside. It doesn't have to be a marathon, but keep moving. Keep walking, just like Forest Gump!" Happy third Portland Marathon, Marcia!

Sometimes when we look at the covers of magazines on the news stands, it seems as if it is only those glitzy folk on the covers who overcome life's obstacles. Not so. Life is not a made-for-TV movie. There is extraordinary in each ordinary one of us, and a story behind the faces of those who will walk and run with us this day. 55,335 foot falls (give or take a few) to cover the distance. Thousands will cover the 138,336 feet, 26.2 miles, a marathon. Heros all!

©2001 Ellie J. Hodder. All rights reserved.
Reproductio prohibited without written permission.