One Step At A Time Is Not Too Difficult

“Man can live about forty days without food, about three days without water, about eight minutes without air, but only for one second without hope” ~Sean Swarner
(two time cancer survivor and mountain climber)





My introduction to Team in Training took place at a little deli. It was there where I saw my first TNT pamphlet on the community bulletin board. “Wow, run a marathon?” It looked interesting, but once I realized that I had to fundraise I folded it up and thought, “that’s too tough, maybe later.”

As I finished my run at the Rose Bowl one Saturday morning a stranger cheered out to me, “looking strong brother!” Before Team in Training I had been running for a year or two and was enjoying how running made me feel. I ran a handful of 5K’s and was enjoying this new community of active folks. I felt better physically, emotionally, mentally, and spiritually. The loop around the Rose Bowl was one of my favorite routes. It was my only route.

As I walked past the group of TNT singlet clad people on my cool down the gregarious coach who encouraged my finish “looking strong brother” said hello, asked about my running and mentioned an upcoming TNT information meeting. Something about the positive vibe of those crazy TNT people resonated with me.


(Above: Coach Jimmy Dean Freeman, the gregarious coach)

A week later I planted myself in a room at the San Rafael Branch Library and listened as they said that covering 26.2 miles was a possibility. I heard a blood cancer survivor speak at this meeting. She told the story of "The Magic Bullet".... Gleevec. Gleevec is a drug that targets certain/specific cells affected by cancer. That drug was funded in large part by The Leukemia and Lymphoma Society.

At that time of my life I was in a rut. I felt stagnant and I was allowing old ideas to be an anchor. I wanted to do something big. I wanted to test myself. I wanted to be around a different type of person. I wanted to surround myself with positive and supportive people. The fact that TNT helped others gave me a warm, fuzzy feeling, but initially, TNT was mainly for me for me. My Grandmother Akers lost her life to lymphoma when I was ten years old and that was my closest connection to the cause. I was a kid and I didn’t get to know Grandma Akers as well as I would have liked to. I do remember the toy drawer, the orange sherbet ice cream, and her kindness.


(Above: Grandmother Akers)

When I arrived at the kickoff meeting for the Fall 2005 I was still undecided about whether I wanted to do this crazy thing. That’s not really true. I DID want to go for it, but fear and self doubts ran through my head. I remember the moment I pulled up to the street in front of the kickoff celebration site (Culver City High / home of the Centaurs). I got out of my car and stood there with the door open.  I paused there for a few seconds and entertained the idea of getting back in my car and returning home. I’m so glad I did not follow those limiting thoughts. My desire to do something better for myself and others trumped my doubts and fears. That day the Universe provided me with something that I would need a few years later.

In a nutshell my experience with Team in Training has been life changing. As both a participant and now as a coach, TNT has served as a tool (a support network) to go beyond my perceived limitations. My time with TNT has afforded my the opportunity to be surrounded by some tremendously outstanding people. People who inspire me, have been there for me during some very dark moments and people who have become good friends. Words cannot do justice to what this organization has blessed me with.


(Pre TNT 5K 2003 / Cotton shirt, socks and gym shorts - A 5K was and still is tough, but a marathon?")


(Add a dash of TNT Inspiration and amazing support
~ A 50 Mile Finish @ Leona Divide 2009)

Flash forward to my second marathon with the TEAM (The 2005 Long Beach Marathon). Things were going pretty good when somewhere around mile 22 I developed some gait altering cramps in my legs. I was struggling along when I bumped into one of my coaches. Coach Katie has often been described as the Mom of the TEAM. She’ll lend an ear and listen with compassion at times then, when you really need it, she’ll give you a swift kick in the behind and some tough love. She helped tend to my aching legs and as she peeled off to help another runner yelled to me, “IT’S SUPPOSED TO BE HARD”! Those words helped me to embrace the pain and the challenge. As I worked my way towards the finish line a spectator watching the marathon must have seen my grimacing face. He cheered me on from his front yard, “ONE STEP AT A TIME, YOU’LL GET THERE!” Eventually I saw the big white FINISH banner, dug deep and kicked through to the finish. It was a good day!


("It's supposed to be hard" - Coach Katie)

To me “ONE STEP AT A TIME” is the essence of this program. One step at a time will get the shoes on your feet and you out the door moving. “ONE STEP AT A TIME” will help you reach your fundraising goal. “ONE STEP AT A TIME” will get you through injury and illness. “ONE STEP AT A TIME” will get you through tough days on the trail. “ONE STEP AT A TIME” saves lives. Honored Teammate and dear friend Virginia Garner is an example of "ONE STEP AT A TIME."

Twenty years ago there was no cure for her disease. Doctors had to conduct numerous
trials and tests to develop Gleevac (the pill she takes to enjoy her life and inspire others). Doctors had to start somewhere. “ONE STEP AT A TIME”!


(With Van and Virginia Garner @ The Mt. Disappointment 50K Finish)

Our honored Teamate Tyler and his family another example of taking life one step at a time. Young Tyler and his family have been enduring cancer for about 4 years now. Despite numerous setbacks this little boy and his family take it one day at a time. They persevere with laughter, hope and love.

(Our Hero Tyler)

“ONE STEP AT A TIME” helped and still helps my family deal with cancer. I heard the words, “The doctor says I have cancer” in March of 2006. My initial thoughts were ones of pure fear and cynicism. “I’m going to lose my Dad”, I thought. My Dad was diagnosed with a type of Non-Hodgkin’s Lymphoma called diffuse b-cell lymphoma. I struggled with the fear produced by hearing those words for about a week until I thought of the stranger in Long Beach who yelled, “ONE STEP AT A TIME”!

“That’s it”, I thought, “this will get us through my Dad’s cancer!”

My Dad’s initial prognosis was good. “ONE STEP AT A TIME”, one doctor’s appointment at a time we were going to beat this thing and reach the finish line. I shared this attitude with my Dad and he had hope as well.

We all believed my Dad would BEAT THIS DISEASE!

Unfortunately the standard treatment protocol for my Dad’s lymphoma was not effective for him. The chemo, called R-Chop, slowed his cancer, but was not killing it. We moved to a different, harsher chemo regimen. This one worked a bit better but his cancer was stubborn. The third type of chemo that my Dad received was the harshest yet, but it looked to be working.

Unfortunately chemo kills good cells as well as cancer cells and at this point the treatment was taking a toll on my Dad’s body and immune system. An infection set in. The cancer wasn’t getting the best of my Dad, it was the treatment.


(Along the trail we get dirty)

About a week before my Dad passed on my brother and I were cleaning the carport at my parent’s place. One thing that I think really bothered my Dad was losing some of his physical strength. He was a very self reliant, robust man. Seeing the cancer beat him up his body was tough. After cleaning the carport I walked into my Dad’s room and got on a knee next to him as he rested in a recliner chair. I grabbed his hand, squeezed it and told him I was sorry that he had to endure this cancer. We looked at each other in the eyes and tears welled. “Dad, we’re going to beat this thing. Hope is our best medicine.” “I know Ki,” he said. “We’re going to beat this.”


(While coaching others to cross the finish line my support was returned 100 fold with love and support of my teammates, TNT honored Teammate potluck, Spring 2006, Dad, myself and Mom.)


On November 16, 2006 my Dad received his last chemo treatment. I saw him that late afternoon after his treatment and he was very weak.

Despite his pain he said, “you look good Ki.” and I said, “you’re looking good too
Dad I’m glad you are home”. We talked about UCLA football a bit and sat together.

That was our last meaningful verbal exchange. Looking back I think he sensed that his time here on Earth was almost done and that was his way of saying so long.

He went back to the hospital that night completely exhausted. As they put him in the ambulance I gave him a thumbs up and told him we were going to get him fixed up and back home. I truly believed that. At the hospital we discovered his platelet levels were extremely low and his B/P was weak. He also had fluid in his lungs. All of a sudden things looked bleak and I was having a conversation with the doctor and my Mom about heroic measures to save my Dad’s life. I was numb. It's wasn't supposed to be like this.

My hero, advisor, coach..my Dad was leaving this earth.

My Mom, sister and I stayed with him and, although he was out of it, I have faith that he felt our presence. At this point he was in a comatose state. We spoke to him, held his hands, kissed his face and told him to stay strong, that we were here and we love him. He battled to the end.

He crossed his finish line early morning, November 17, 2006.

All along our journey our family “TOOK IT ONE STEP AT A TIME” and never gave up
hope.



During his working life my Dad was a spacecraft engineer at JPL.


(Looking at the skies - Dad a a teenager with his homemade telescope)

Dad had a scientist’s mind. He was always looking for the edge that was going to
help him overcome his cancer. He was always taking notes and documenting things. He did that with his cancer treatment as well. A few days after my Dad passed I was reading his final journal entry that was written early morning on November 16th 2006.

It read:

6:00 am (11-16-06)

Flush intravenous catheter
Flush w/ normal saline
Nurse said eyes look good
*TAKE IT EASY
will take several vials of blood
“I have much courage”



All of us possess hope for good things to come and it takes courage to face our fears and give our best to overcome the obstacles that LIFE throws on our path. Fred Akers had hope and courage, but I gave him a little more. A little more HOPE. I know that helped him with his cancer. There are times that I am courageous and I have hope within me too, but I was given more of those two spiritual remedies from you…Team In Training. Myself and the cancer community are blessed that each of you are here walking, running, inspiring and raising money to end these diseases. Your efforts, actions, and most importantly, your spirit make a difference in the lives of others.... They have made a difference in my Dad’s life, my family’s life and mine. One step at a time TEAM!












With everlasting gratitude,

-Coach Kiley