I stood there at my assigned spot, just about 800-1200 yards from the start line at Pier 46.  It was a little section of the runner’s path at Hudson River Park that narrowed just slightly before some construction to the south, leading into Pier 45.  It would be obvious to the runners where to go, what to do — keep running, straight, for 2 1/2 more miles or so.  Then I’d get to see them again on the way back, when it would be obvious again — keep running, follow the path north, for another 1/2 mile or so, across the finish line. They wouldn’t need my instruction much, so as I stood there waiting for the race to start, I realized my job would just be to cheer them on.  

I felt a little guilty for having such an easy assignment.  After doing a lot of work getting The Lauren Beam Foundation incorporated in New York state – including nearly 8 months of senseless back and forth with the Department of State in New York — then set up as a 501(c)(3) non-profit, I felt like I hadn’t done enough during the planning with my fellow board members.  They all carried their weight and executed tasks so gracefully, so efficiently, so competently.  Whether in New York or in Northern California or in Oregon, they got everything done, week after week after week, during our year of planning.  No detail was too small, no task too large, and perfect never got in the way of good but that never meant our goal was to settle for less than perfect.  Once a month or so — more toward the final stretch leading up to November 10th — I participated on calls and was blown away by the creativity and common sense of The Lauren Beam Foundation Board.  It was like a think tank of people from different walks of life that could execute any plan and any idea.  Without meaning to be self deprecating but in the spirit of being perfectly honest, I felt each call like I could barely keep up.  The cross country move, the stress on my marriage, getting adjusted to Los Angeles, finding my bearings and keeping my head above water made it feel like joining the call on the weekend was an accomplishment.  As I tried to find ways to contribute to the planning after that, I felt two steps behind.  That was the reality.  Work and kids prevented me from getting there to help with the set up and organization on Saturday before the race — so I was hoping to be put to task Sunday morning.

So as I stood there waiting to cheer people on at Mile .5 and 2.5, I started thinking of how else I could help after the race.  Pick up every piece of trash, pack every extra t-shirt or bag, carry every box all over Manhattan to find a place that would ship it on a Sunday.  Do all the heavy lifting possible.  But meanwhile, for now, I’d cheer as best as I could for every runner that came by.  All 400 of them (and nearly all showed up!).  That would be my job and I’d do it as well as my fellow Lauren Beam Foundation board members deserved, and as well as Lauren deserved.  Lauren, who cheered people on even when she was racing.  Who cheered people on she didn’t know.  Who looked forward to giving high fives to every runner at Mile 7 of the NYC Marathon with me along 4th Avenue in Brooklyn – elite to walkers.  Who yelled at people breaking the rules at the NYC Triathlon, sneaking in front of the fence that was meant to keep spectators back from the course, who made it harder for us all to cheer each participant on.  I’d cheer the way she deserved.  I thought that is easy enough!

Though I was 1/2 mile away, I could see the swarm of runners on Pier 46.  I smiled thinking of the people I knew doing the race.  The people doing it to support each of Lauren’s friends and family members putting the face on, doing it to support her spirit and energy, doing it to impact the lives of people battling cancer.  The people she worked for and with.  The girl she babysat.  The women she coached.  The friends she loved.  The people that loved her.  And even people doing it just to be out there running.  That alone, as simple as it is, is part of our mission.  Move. Be Active.  Get out there.  We’ll make sure the rest of our mission happens if you just do that!  I thought of all those people, rallying for their spots near the start line, deciding where in the pack to begin the first step, and smiled. It would be easy enough to clap, to cheer, to give them a little support.

They swarmed around the first turns, with a few breakout speed demons breaking from the pack, and all quickly finding their pacing. A few minutes into the race, I saw Jake Shoemaker with his fuzzy hair flying high and his feet barely touching the ground and it was beautiful.  Speed and athleticism and a big smile and flying through the air, and I clapped and said “Go Team Beam!” Lauren would have loved seeing that – having him run this race. And not long after that I saw a pack of 3 or 4 guys, lead by Dean from San Diego, all in their blue Team Beam race day shirts.  And I thought Lauren would love this, and thought Dean is going to hang in there not too  far behind Jake! And I thought Lauren would be right part of that pack if she were here, I wish she were here.

Then I saw the pack.  The massive pack.  Spread out already — those that would go around 19-20 minutes in front of those that would go 22, in front of the 8 minute milers, in front of the joggers, in front of the walkers.  A few women toward the front and more toward the middle.  But all together, spreading out, but not too far apart.  All running in rhythm toward me. Me clapping, saying “Go Team Beam”, “Good Job!”, “Good start!”, “Go Team Beam!”.  Go Team Beam.  Go Team Beam.  Go.  And then that little knot in my chest just jumped up to my throat and my heart burst a little and the tears came.

I was overwhelmed with it.  With all these feet, moving in honor of her whether they knew her or not.  All running, all feeling the energy that we wanted to bring for the day, all smiling and working under the windless sunny sky along the Hudson River and all running.  And I thought of Lauren telling stories about being dragged to running races her mom raced in, week in and week out as  a kid. I thought of her telling me during a swim training trip in Hawaii about her sub 5 minute mile in high school, and I thought “She’s a great swimmer, but with those legs and that speed, she’s a runner at heart!”  And I thought of running and doing wind sprints alongside of her as we worked out together before work in 1998 and 1999.  And of running in races with her, cheering her on, joining her for part of her runs.  Running with her when she had cancer and I didn’t, and wishing I could run with her more.  And I felt her energy in the rhythm of every single footstep coming my way — all 700 feet still coming to pass by as I said “Go Team Beam” and the tears just started coming.  

Suddenly my claps and “Go Team Beam” were intermixed with my hand wiping tears away and just claps, because my voice cracked.  And I saw my friend Harry Packman, over 50 with the stride of a 20 year old athlete, hanging in the front of the pack.  I saw  my colleague Lauren Tanen, running and giving me a hug.  I saw my friend Hollis Meminger recalling the stride he had a star hurdler on a track scholarship to Georgetown, running for the first time 19 years later.  I saw Lauren’s swimmers, and teammates, and assistant coaches, running all together.  I saw people whose faces I knew, who I knew I knew through Lauren, running with their big smiles.  I saw Christina Keller running and smiling and I remember how much she hated running on the winter swimming training trips, but you wouldn’t know it now.  And I saw Katie Clancy and Jordana Alter, smiling and as sweet as they were in 1998.  I saw a 7-year old running with his mom and dad.  I saw my son running with his buddy, two little five year olds, one with sequined shoes on, running their first race ever.  I saw Gretchen Mannix, Lauren’s old boss and mentor and friend, and thought of all the kernels of wisdom and kindness she shared, of which I benefitted as Lauren passed them on to me.  The tears wouldn’t stop, but neither would the “Go Team Beam”s.  I saw Big Bill Palowski, and his wife, running together, and got another hug, and I was so grateful for my spot cheering people on at Mile .5.

Then suddenly Jake Shoemaker was on his way back in — speeding his way to a course record and 15 minute 5k!.  Still smiling.  And I felt grateful that the tears had flowed and I could cheer them all back in — all these wonderful, beautiful, strong runners — with a little more dignity than my sensitive heart let me do on their way out.  And it was amazing. It was hard, it was sad, it was uplifting and strange and wonderful and miraculous all in one.  And I cheered, I gave high fives, I shouted encouragement, I snapped a few pictures.  And I felt like I had the most incredibly important job out there — along with the twenty other volunteers manning the race course.  Just to cheer and harness all this energy of the footsteps coming our way and bring it to life.  And so I did my best to do just that.

Not far into cheering on the return runners — shortly after the front of the pack was past me and crossing the finish line — I realized that while I shouted “Go Team Beam”, there were some people that might not have known what that meant at the start of the race.  They might not have read Lauren’s Caring Bridge posts, or bought a Team Beam shirt or bracelet at the beginning of her battle.  They might not have been graced with the energy of Lauren Beam and Mike Beam in 2011 or before.  They might not have known, first hand, the strength and love of that battle cry.  But as I shouted this to every runner and every pack and every group on their way back in, they all knew it.  They all felt it.  Their footsteps had been powered by it, maybe unknowingly, and all our efforts combined with their steps had brought it to life.  And there was no doubt that they knew that it wasn’t just a call to go faster, go longer, stay strong for just another mile.  But to live proudly, live fearlessly, live with fun and humor and love and fearlessness.  Even when fear is the only thing you feel and humor seems out of reach.

And that power of Team Beam was there in the air, dense and strong and contagious, until all the awards had been given and auctioned and raffles won and bagels and cookies eaten and music played and impromptu choreography danced and pictures taken and hugs exchanged and thanks given and cheers provided and coats put on to cover those beautiful blue shirts and runner’s gaits turned in to walks to the nearest subway.  

And it’s there today, as The Lauren Beam Foundation starts planning for the next race, and all of our wonderful runners start training for it by training for life.

http://www.laurenbeam.com