That's my boy...

... for Knots in the String.

This man, my son, showed that he’s made of an iron core today.

He would hate me mentioning him on social media. He’s never been in favour so no names. But let me give you the context because what ensued is a lesson in courage, determination and persistence.

Last year, my son was diagnosed with Lymphoid Interstitial Pneumonia , most likely of auto-immune origin. It was a pretty shattering diagnosis for a 39 year old and father of a five year old as there is no effective cure for the disease beyond perhaps, a lung transplant. One of the tests, a lung biopsy, caused his first and hoepfully his last pneumo-thorax. There was a lot to be processed in the ensuing months … for us all, but for him most of all.

His lung specialist said his best option was to work on his mental and physical health in case he needed a transplant because the healthier that one is on those two counts, the better the chances of 1. Obtaining a transplant and 2. Coping with the huge adjustments (mental and physical) that a transplant requires.

My son worked very hard on his mental health, doing everything that was required with willingness. For his lung fitness, he began walking up and down the steep hills of our farm. Slowly his lung capacity increased. At his 3 monthly-check, he was pronounced stable which was more than he could have wished for. The cysts were static and because of his efforts, his breathing was improving.

So he began to run.

He ran kilometres through the summer – up and down hills, along country roads in dry heat, in humidity. I was in awe. He lost weight, muscled up and his lungs responded. Needing a target, as if tackling an incurable lung disease isn’t enough, he entered a short trail run . Came 18^th and was so chuffed he decided to do the 25 km leg of the - https://www.kunanyimountain.run/

Today, we, his family, climbed the mountain to watch as he ran through the stages and to cheer with shouts, bells and whistles, and clapping.

I confess to worrying about him – it seemed such a gruelling race and in my own mind, I could see his lungs and heart pumping so hard. I wondered how the human frame could cope with such pressure. I became an anxious mum looking out for her boy, begging the Fates to care for him because I knew how much it mattered to him to finish. As he had said to us, he was running against himself and no one else. ‘Against himself’ – what a loaded statement!

When we saw him coming down the mountain at the 2/3rds mark, he was still smiling and stopped to hug us.

Then we raced to the finish line in order to shout him home. We had cowbells and voices, and we gave it our best Tour de France all!

He did it! Over all, he came 63^rd out of the 150+ runners in his group. Not bad for someone who didn’t start running until October-November.

I am so proud of his determination and strength! One day, his little boy will be grown up enough to understand that when Daddy ran the mountain, he was doing more than just running. He was showing him that giant obstacles can be mere stepping stones to a better, more positive life and that life is for living every moment.

That’s my boy!

Post Script. I just noticed the sign on the tent behind my son in the first image #everystepastory. How true…