A Stupid Idea

In 2001, on my daughter’s first birthday, I launched my inaugural grassroots fundraiser for America’s Blood Centers by mailing more than 600 letters to friends, family members, and former colleagues. In it, I shared the story of how hundreds of volunteer blood donors saved my life following Clare’s birth, and I asked everyone to sponsor me in the upcoming New York City marathon by giving blood or money, both if they were so inclined. The response was immediate and overwhelming, and soon my mailbox filled with checks and words of encouragement.

And then I received the reply form from a bestselling biology textbook author with whom I’d worked during my publishing career. This is a stupid idea, she wrote next to my bold declaration to run a marathon. Then she proceeded to list all the physiological reasons why it was too soon after my medical ordeal to put my body through such a challenge. I promptly dismissed her concerns and continued training for race day.

Eight months later, I would learn just how right she had been in her assessment of my stupidity. Less than seven miles into the 26.2-mile race, the impact of the street surface on my feet was crippling to my body, which had never completely recovered from the beating it took during my near-fatal illness. By mile 12, I allowed myself to walk – something I’d never done in any of my previous marathons. Somewhere around mile 19, I got a wicked charley horse and limped to the side of the road. I lay on my back on the cool sidewalk and watched the sun set behind the trees above, as my husband massaged my aching feet and cramped calves.

“Should we quit?” Jeff asked, though I knew that what he really wanted to say was We should quit. (I feel it is only fair to state that Jeff categorically hates running; he only ran that marathon with me to ensure my safety should something go wrong.)

“I’ve never dropped out of a race,” I said to Jeff after a good 15-minute rest. “And I’m not about to start today.” I laced up my running shoes, allowed Jeff to hoist me to standing, and limped back out onto the racecourse.

Finishing place in the marathon: 22,756--woo hoo!

By the time I shuffled across the finish line, the sky was pitch black, the bleachers in Central Park had been disassembled and stacked for removal, and most of the fans and race volunteers had departed. My body was broken, my legs could barely support me, and everything hurt.

But, I thought to myself, I did it! I finished what I started!

And then, the prophetic words of my textbook-author friend began to manifest themselves. My right shoulder locked up and remains “frozen” a decade later, my right arm unable to reach above shoulder height. One by one, the rest of my joints – ankles, knees, elbows, my other shoulder – began to deteriorate over the ensuing years. Arthritis set in, surgery was performed, pain medications prescribed, joint replacements discussed.

So okay, I’m finally willing to admit it: Running that marathon was a stupid idea. And once in the race, yes, I should’ve dropped out when it was clear my body was not doing well. With the benefit of hindsight, age, and arthritis, I now understand that not all races are meant to be finished. Sometimes, for the sake of our long-term health, the best course of action is to quit.

But that doesn’t mean it wasn’t fun while it lasted. 

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Lauren's book, Zuzu's Petals: A True Story of Second Chances (In The Telling Press, 2011), was the #1 Top Rated memoir on Kindle for 7 straight months. Hardcover copies are available at www.amazon.com, or signed copies can be ordered at www.laurenwardlarsen.com. Happy Reading!

People Like Pete

My favorite thing about my job isn’t the satisfaction of raising money for great blood services initiatives.  It isn’t my funky little D.C. office that’s spitting distance from the White House and 1.5 blocks from a fabulous oyster bar. It isn’t even the paycheck (trust me—it’s not the paycheck).

Corny as it sounds, my favorite aspect of this work is the people I get to meet while I’m out there doing my thing.  Sure, I meet a lot of fellow “train wrecks,” as we multi-gallon blood recipients often jokingly refer to ourselves.  And I meet a lot of “angels”—those multi-gallon blood donors who often demur that it’s nothing. But every so often, I have the privilege of meeting someone like Pete.

Pete has no personal tie to the blood cause.  He doesn’t work for a blood center or for any sort of company remotely in the transfusion medicine arena.  I don’t even know if he donates blood (though ten bucks says he does).

Pete owns Alignment Enterprises, a brand-building company that specializes in live event production. I was introduced to him eight months ago via email when a mutual friend suggested he get in touch with me.  His first correspondence began with this: Mary Richardson sent me your way.  I would be honored to support you, the Foundation for America’s Blood Centers and the Preeclampsia Foundation with your important gala event, Saving Grace.

Now, me being me, I assumed I had another vendor on my hands willing to help me—for a hefty fee—with the huge fundraiser I was co-chairing. So I shot Pete a quick email back: I hope Mary clarified that we do not have an event budget to work with—hopefully that won’t scare you away. Pete’s reply was immediate and emphatic: Count me in!

Thus began a working relationship I would come to cherish.

Pete stepped in with a team of professionals who each brought a special talent to the gala-planning process: writing, production management, audio-visual, photography, videography.  He launched weekly conference calls, during which a dozen of us would participate in the development of the live program for the first-ever public dinner gala being co-hosted by the foundation I head up. He even secured the (pro bono) help of a world-renowned musical composer and conductor, who then wrote an original song for the cause to be performed live at the gala.

Having worked on some fairly major events in my PepsiCo brand management days, I knew how much time and effort Pete’s team was putting into the creation of the Saving Grace program. And every time I sent Pete yet another email of gratitude, the response was pretty consistent: It’s my honor to be involved, Lauren.

When “game day” arrived (last Saturday), Pete and his crew were as supportive and upbeat as they’d been at the outset. They hustled about the grand ballroom adjusting lighting, testing microphones, marking up the stage. My co-chair, Patrick, and I were joking during the rehearsals that we would have been “dead in the water” if not for Pete.  And by joking I mean not really.

Last February, Pete was a complete stranger. But by the time he and I shared a celebratory cocktail in the hotel bar at midnight, this complete stranger had become a dear friend.

It’s all about the people. 

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Lauren's book, Zuzu's Petals: A True Story of Second Chances (In The Telling Press, 2011), is the #1 Top Rated memoir on Kindle. Hardcover copies are available at www.amazon.com, or signed copies can be ordered at www.laurenwardlarsen.com. Happy Reading!