I finally understood the myth of Sisyphus when my son was diagnosed with a brain tumor two years ago. And like the legend, we were faced with a huge mountain, a massive, incomprehensible rock, and a job that no one would ever sign up for.
I’m not sure when the transformation occurred, so it must have happened slowly. But a few weeks ago, when I went to Vegas to run in the Rock ‘n Roll Marathon, my friends decided I was an athlete. I’m not.
Somewhere between closing the metaphorical door of any traumatic situation and getting sucked into the constant vortex of pain and victimhood, there’s a middle place of relative contentment. Of just understanding that it is what it is.
This tumor with all its power to put him into a world of darkness – a world of black and white – cannot kill the colors in his soul. It cannot touch what Coby can still share with the world.
So here goes. My list of things I learned running in a marathon (or half-marathon).
If you would have asked me a few months ago if I could get out of bed at 5AM I would have laughed. I could go TO bed at 5AM. But waking up? Not a chance.