The White Glove

The day she had dreamt about for the last three years was finally here. It was the 111th running of the historic Boston Marathon. Denise gazed out her 12th floor hotel room window down upon the hustle and bustle of the streets below. It was April, a time when the flowers should be blossoming and gentle southern breezes should be slowly warming the streets of the city. Unfortunately, that would not be the case this year. It was downright cold and the frost and the early morning dampness still hung heavily on the rooftops of the buildings and the windshields of the passing cars. The rain snow mix pelted on the window making a slight tapping sound as if mimicking the beats of her heart. Her anxiety level had reached its peak and her chest felt as though it would explode at any second. The self-doubts of whether or not she could complete this race started to creep in. She could feel herself start to hyperventilate and instinctively knew she must slow her breathing down and regain control. Her ultimate goal of proving to everyone and herself that she was a survivor would soon be a reality. The cancer that had ravaged her body was not going to win, not today. Her mind raced back to the
beginning of this journey to Boston and the memories quietly took over her thoughts and relaxed her mind and body.

For such a strong woman, Denise was actually very petite, standing only five feet tall and at age 52 still had the body of a young gymnast. Her dark brown eyes and pixie cut brunette hair gave her an Asian look. Her permanent smile and zest for life gave her an appearance of someone much taller. In her earlier days Denise was always very active in the gym and very popular in school as one of the cheerleaders that all the boys liked to watch. She married Randy, her high school sweetheart, and they quickly had the millionaire’s family of a boy and girl, whom she adored, and life was sweet. They both obtained great jobs and had a very tight group of friends who became more like a family to them. Denise became a vital part of her community and even taught dancing to the local theatrical groups for years. At Christmas time each year Denise would bake trays of cookies for everybody and soon was known as the “Cookie Lady “of the neighbourhood and received orders all year long. Everyone would never have thought that this “mighty mouse” could ever be slowed down. She was invincible, a regular force to be reckoned with.

Denise was one of those people you always see running down the street or through the parks. It was her dream to run the Boston Marathon one day. If you’ve ever considered running a marathon, let alone qualifying for the Boston Marathon, you know how daunting and difficult that task can be. Not only must you run 26.2 miles but you also have to be able to do it in a certain time limit, and only the cream of the crop actually meet that goal. Well, after training for over a year and running in several other marathons, Denise finally reached that goal on a cool autumn day in the streets of Toronto. She had qualified to compete in the 110th running of the Boston marathon to be held in less than 6 months. Her dream was becoming a reality.

Sadly dreams don’t always come true. After going for a run one day, Denise could feel that there was something going on inside her body that didn’t feel just right. Upon visiting her doctor and submitting to numerous tests and examinations it was determined that Denise had the dreaded “C” word, CANCER. It seemed the tumour was like some sort of hungry beast. It was quickly devouring her physical body but she refused to let it conquer her spirit. Her medical team said there was an outside chance that they could perform a very complicated procedure that might be able to stop this affliction from growing any further. Denise agreed to the surgery and after only a week in the hospital, Denise returned home with the hope that the doctors had been successful. She was extremely weak and her appearance was that of a slight and fragile little girl. Her will to live, however, was very strong and with the constant support of her husband, Randy, they would see this trial through together.

The first thing on the list for Randy to take care of was to contact the officials of the Boston Marathon and ensure that her qualification for the big race could be pushed back a year. With that small task accomplished it was now time for Denise to tackle her biggest challenge yet. She was more determined than ever that she would run that race next year. It did not seem humanly or physically possible for anyone in her condition to attempt such a feat, but “Never” was not a word in Denise’s vocabulary.

Every day Denise and Randy could be seen training together at the local gym. Slowly Denise’s muscle tone was returning and she began to run again. She felt the elation of being free as she willed herself to run just a little bit further each day. It had been a long, cold, exhausting journey but she had returned. She would be ready to face her destiny at the 111th Boston Marathon.

A strong gust of icy wind rattled the window and returned Denise to the present reality. It was time to for her to finish this chapter. Denise pinned the race bib with the number 17329 to the front of her jersey and pulled her toque down tight over her ears. Her loyal companion and cheerleader, Randy, gave her a hug and a kiss and escorted her to the bus that would take her to the starting line. As she left the warmth of the hotel lobby and walked through the revolving doors the icy cold rain instantly stung her face and a shiver ran up and down her spine. She knew she was in for the fight of her life. The weather was not going to make it easy for anyone today. Even some of the volunteers were no-shows. The wind, ice, sleet, rain and downed power lines made her wonder why the officials hadn’t cancelled the race. This was going to be her ultimate test.

Over 23,000 men and women lined up waiting for the horn to blow signifying the start of the race. The horn sounded and the pounding of all those feet almost made the asphalt feel as though it was vibrating. Denise got into her racing pace quickly and soon was moving effortlessly over the wet pavement. All her family and friends at home were keeping close tabs on her progress. The electronic chip that was attached to her running shoe gave everyone the ability to watch her movements on their computers in the comfort of their homes. Denise may not have known it but there were hundreds of people watching from afar and praying for her success. With each new mile marker the excitement of the possibility of her triumphant run was growing. In fact she was running at a pace much faster than her personal best. As if hypnotized by the computer screens all her friends stopped whatever they were doing and just watched the little “blimp” move slowly on the outline of the course before their eyes. She was getting closer to the end. You could feel the anxiety pulsing from the screen. That’s when it happened. The “blimp” stopped moving. What was going on? Was Denise alright?Instinctively, they all knew she needed help and one by one they began to storm the heavens with their prayers and ask God to help her.

They call it “Heartbreak Hill” for a reason. Many a runner has met their demise here on this steep incline only 6 miles from the finish. After trudging along for 20 miles you now must be able to negotiate this hill if you are to succeed. Well, this was it for Denise; she was spent and could not believe that this might be the end to her quest. She slowed down and eventually stopped, trying to regain her breath and find a new source of energy from within her fatigued body. Her legs and guts were screaming at her to give it up, but her mind wouldn’t surrender, not yet. That’s when she heard a deep voice calling her bib number from somewhere behind her. She turned her head slowly only to see the blur of a big white gloved hand coming toward her.

“17329, take my hand, we can do this together.”

Without thinking Denise placed her hand in his and felt a peace and energy flow from his gloved hand into hers like she had never felt before. They held hands tightly and he softly whispered encouragement to her to continue as they sprinted toward the end. As they crossed the finish line Denise turned to thank her “guardian angel.” To her amazement, he was not anywhere to be seen. In fact she couldn’t really remember what he looked like. She scanned the crowd looking for someone wearing a white glove. There was no logical explanation. He couldn’t have just disappeared. She saw her Randy waiting at the entrance of the recovery area and fell into his arms in complete exhaustion. She asked if he had seen the white gloved man that helped her to the finish line. To her disbelief Randy told her that she crossed the finish line alone. There was no one holding her hand.

Denise finally surrendered to her fatigue and Randy carried her in his arms to the recovery area and gently placed her down on a blanket and covered her weary and cold body with his own coat. Randy sat down beside her and held her tightly. It was at this moment Denise realized that she was not the only survivor of her journey to recovery. They were both survivors. They had made it through the storms together. Randy had held the umbrella and she had held on to him. Life was very sweet. When Denise returned home to a throng of well-wishers, she recounted her story of the man with the white glove who had called her number, held her hand and helped her to finish the race. Her only disappointment was that she never got to thank him. Her friends gathered around her and joined their hands together.

Randy took Denise’s hand in his and said, “Don’t worry; we can all thank him now.”