2013 NORD Gala

galaLast Tuesday night, I was honored to attend the NORD Gala with fellow team members Kai and Kristen.   The Gala celebrated 30 years since passage of the Orphan Drug Act and included moving speeches from some of the most influencial leaders in the rare disease community.  I was very fortunate to have had the opportunity to say a few words about our team and thought it was worth posting my speech.

My Speech

On Saturday, April 13, 2013, 18 marathon team members including 16 employees and 2 rare disease community members, their families, NORD representatives and 13 patient families, nearly 100 in total, came together for the first time as one community.

Patient families traveled from across the county including, Arizona, Michigan, Wisconsin, Ohio, Pennsylvania, Maryland, New Jersey and of course Massachusetts to be a part of this amazing weekend.

We connected, shared stories, embraced, and almost instantaneously became a family.

The evening was so special for all who attended.

On Monday morning, we reconnected for breakfast with the excitement of the day looming in our minds.

At 8am, all runners boarded the bus for Hopkinton and at 8:30, patient families headed off to join the rest of the running for rare diseases community at mile 14.

Imagine the feeling being at the start of the historic Boston Marathon on this spectacular day with 17 members of your family, all focused on making a difference on behalf of this greater community.

As we approached mile 14, full of energy, at the peak of fitness and in perfect weather, we were greeted by 50 screaming family members, all wearing warrior paint in honor of ‘Wylder the Warrior’, my 3 year old patient partner who tragically passed away from Neimann-Pick disease last July. It was so incredibly moving and so motivating that it helped set the stage for what followed, the most challenging portion of the course…. Heartbreak Hill.

Just before 3 PM, tragedy struck. You all know the story. Many runners finished and some were not allowed to. Though we had runners near the bombing and community members at the finish line, by the grace of God and maybe Wylder’s angelic intervention, none of us were physically harmed.

To say that the hours and days that followed were surreal is an absolute understatement, but if we put aside the tragedy for the moment and look at the how the nation came together to support the people of Boston and how our greater community responded in support of our team, there is a level of humanity in view that surpasses or even overpowers everything else.

The level of visibility for our cause has never been higher. Passionate people are taking note and want to be a part of our community.   It is all very exciting.

We will never forget those who were impacted by these horrific events but I will close by saying we are passionate, committed, resilient, and strong, and looking forward to significantly advancing our cause on your behalf in 2014 and beyond.

Thank You.

Posted in Running Stories | 2 Comments

Optimism Despite Tragedy: Words from Genzyme’s 2013 Boston Marathon Team

The following is a story that Jessi and I worked on for Genzyme’s intranet, to share our community’s story with everyone at our company. We thought our blog readers may like to read it, too. As you’ll see, it is fairly long due to the number of e-mails we included; we felt it was important to share all these voices to demonstrate how while we may each have had different experiences, we all are grateful for and inspired by all the members of our community: runners, patients, supporters – everyone.


Optimism Despite Tragedy: Words from Genzyme’s 2013 Boston Marathon Team

April 15 2013 - Genzyme Marathon - 128 Each year around this time, Inside Genzyme publishes an article to share the story of our runners who, on behalf of patients living with rare diseases, embark on the 26.2-mile journey that is the Boston Marathon. Through extreme temperatures, sore muscles and fatigue, this team focuses on the power of their partnerships with patients as inspiration to get them to the finish line.

April 15 2013 - Genzyme Marathon - 039This year, that inspiration will carry the team as they work to recover from the events that have changed their lives forever. In the days following April 15, while we were flooded with coverage of the event and glued to news sources as the story continued to unfold, members of Genzyme’s running community were circulating personal reflections with one another. As a way to say ‘thank you’ for the outpouring of support the team has received from colleagues around the world, they have chosen to share their thoughts with us.

April 13, 2013 - Genzyme Marathon Dinner - 019 (Large) One way that many employees based in Cambridge helped was through donating blood at a drive held on April 3, a few days prior to the Boston Marathon. Kim, Blood Donor Services at Massachusetts General Hospital, shared with Genzyme through an email that the blood collected from our drive was used in the emergency room when ambulances arrived at the hospital.

April 15 2013 - Genzyme Marathon - 035In addition, to date, employees have donated over $12,000 to The One Fund Boston, Inc., Boston Medical Center (Boston Marathon Victim/Families fund) and the American Red Cross of Eastern Massachusetts, to aid those affected by the Boston Marathon bombings with their medical expenses and other needs. Genzyme will support employees’ efforts through a G.I.V.E. grant.

April 15 2013 - Genzyme Marathon - 100While we all continue to try to understand the horrific events that took place in our own    backyard, Genzyme’s running team is focusing on the positive aspects of the bond that they now share and the work they have done for patients which is undiminished despite the terrible end to the race.


Amy Atwood, Allston Communications Manager, Genzyme’s Running Team Board Member, who was on her way to the finish line when the bombs exploded, helps to set the scene.

April 15 2013 - Genzyme Marathon - 160Saturday night, April 13, was a magical night for everyone involved with the Genzyme Boston Marathon Team. That evening, members of the rare disease community who were partnered with the runners, as well as their families and Genzyme representatives, all gathered together at the Allston Landing Facility to get to know each other and celebrate their partnership, the team’s commitment to raising awareness and funds for rare diseases, and the upcoming marathon.

April 15 2013 - Genzyme Marathon - 138You would never know that many of the nearly 100 people had only just met for the first time;  it was more like a reunion of old friends. The smiles were infectious and the excitement of the shared bond in relation to the Marathon Team – which included two runners from Sanofi and two rare disease patients, in addition to 15 Genzyme employees – was evident throughout the evening.

April 15 2013 - Genzyme Marathon - 108 It continued at the breakfast on Monday morning when many met again, this time to wish the runners well before they were shuttled to the starting line. As soon as they left, patient partners, representatives from the National Organization for Rare Disorders (NORD) and Genzyme colleagues headed to Mile 14 in Wellesley, Mass., to wait for the runners to pass.

April 15 2013 - Genzyme Marathon - 081It was only a few hours later that the first runners, Sharon Cotnam of Allston, and David  Cunningham of Waterford, Ireland, flew past Mile 14, quickly followed by James Drob, a Sanofi colleague from Swiftwater, Pennsylvania. And over the next hour and a half, Mile 14 was filled with cheers, hugs and words of encouragement (as well as much warrior paint!) as each of the Genzyme Marathon Team passed by – some even stopping to visit with their patient partners and friends before resuming their run.

April 15 2013 - Genzyme Marathon - 034As soon as the last Genzyme Marathon Team member passed Mile 14, the cheering section broke up. Some headed home, while others went to try to catch a glimpse of the runners at another point along the route. And nearly 20 headed into the city, with passes to sit in the grandstand right in front of the finish line, to see the runners cross and then meet up with them after.

919658_460811163998143_1565302538_oBut because of what happened at 2:50 p.m., not everyone got to finish the race; many were  halted just miles from the finish line. Everyone’s experience of those moments – and subsequent days – was different. The horror of the tragic end to the Boston Marathon initially overshadowed much the good that surrounded it, but not for long.

April 15 2013 - Genzyme Marathon - 090As the team began to process what had happened, the bombings served to bring out the good even more because of the sharp contrast. Runners, patient partners, Genzyme employees, and NORD representatives shared their experiences with one another in person and over email, and the prevailing feeling was that the “marathon spirit” of this community was not broken. To slightly modify the motto of the team and NORD, “alone we are rare; together we are Boston strong.”


April 15 2013 - Genzyme Marathon - 204
Below are excerpts from the many communications that circulated among team members in the days following. Links to the communications in their entirety are available below.

Phil Maderia, Director, Engineering, Genzyme Boston Marathon Team Member and Genzyme Running Team Board Member – from the Running for Rare Diseases blog:
This community will forever be tied to the events of April 15, 2013.  Let us all use this tie to stay connected with each other and remember the wonderful relationships formed over the last few months.  Use the triggers that we can’t control to inspire each of us to do what we can control; reach out to our team members and partners and say ‘hey, I was thinking about you today.’  Let’s use this tragedy as a positive means to build our community.

Rare Disease Community Member and Patient Partner Gail in an e-mail to her friend:
“I was out in Wellesley for most of the day, deciding to go to the finish line to see the team members finish only at the spur of the moment, after they had all passed us at mile 14.5… It turned out to be the most frightening event of my life.  Close call, but as I told (my new best friend, who I had just met that day) Amy, our numbers were not up – it was not our time to go. I’m still having a bit of a hard time, grateful that I’m ok, but very shaken. The good news is that I’m okay – but a difference of as little as a minute or two might very well have resulted in a different story. What a nightmare – it was without a doubt the most terrifying event I have ever experienced.

“We had parked under the Prudential Center – the two photographers (David and Doug) and Derek Gavin (from NORD) had gotten out at the door to the garage – we said we would meet them at the finish line. I accompanied Amy to find a parking space, which we did fairly quickly. We took the elevator up into the building and were walking through the mall out towards the street when I asked if she would mind if we went back to use the ladies room. That probably saved our lives.

“As we were walking towards the exit, we heard a loud noise and what sounded like falling scaffolding or something – I now know it was the first bomb and windows being blown out. I turned to Amy and said “What was that?” and then there was a huge “BOOM” – this time right outside. Then – instant panic – people running and screaming, knocking over tables and chairs. Rationally, I knew I had heard a bomb, but I was afraid there might also be a shooter – I remember running and trying to figure out whether or not there was a place we could hide (there was not). What’s kind of amazing is that I recall some things with razor-sharp precision – like evaluating where we might hide and detachedly wondering if I was going to die momentarily – and others, not at all – like actually walking out of the building. In any case, I grabbed Amy’s bag so we wouldn’t get separated and the two of us made it outside to the street, which was full of smoke and people were wandering about anxious and shell-shocked.

“Some were on their phones, others were taking pictures… ambulances and cruisers raced by and the sirens were deafening. I texted my mom to let her know I was okay, and then a runner came up to me, dazed and face covered in salt from her run, asking to use my phone to let her husband know she was okay. Luckily, my battery lasted long enough to text her husband (we couldn’t get a line out, finding out later that the networks were completely overwhelmed, and then they had shut down cell capability to prevent remote bomb detonation), and then it died. Thank god I also had my blackberry, which can’t text, but at least could email. One of the number of small decisions that had a huge impact that day – I had almost left it in my car, thinking I would never need two phones. What still is beyond me is that though I was shaking with fear, I remained completely calm throughout the whole day – maybe it was shock, but it certainly served me better than freaking out would have. Amy was in what she called “crisis mode,” trying to track everyone down, and I’m convinced that her focus reacted with my calmness and helped us both keep it together.

“We didn’t know what to do – I just knew I couldn’t lose Amy – and were actually walking towards the clock at the finish line, but police were everywhere and started pushing us back. I’m so glad they did, because I would never have been able to erase the images of what lay there on the sidewalks. It was mayhem. Thousands of us were herded backwards to the Mass Ave bridge over the Mass Turnpike, which scared the crap out of me since we were essentially sitting ducks on bridge over a highway – now there’s a target if there ever was one. My terror at being in a crowd of people was almost overwhelming. We were hearing rumors to avoid trashcans and mailboxes – but what could we do???? Some runners had been diverted away from the finish line down Hereford Street at about mile 26, while the rest were stopped a couple of blocks away under the Mass Ave underpass.

“We tried to find people we knew among the runners at the underpass, but slowly made our way to Charlesgate where we stood for what seemed like forever. Amy was methodically and obsessively trying to locate our runners and families on her two phones; I was emailing back and forth with friends, having them get in touch with others for me – and finally, finally… everyone was accounted for. We walked. And walked…

“We ended up walking to her apartment in Brookline, where her cousin (a runner who had gotten stopped at mile 25) was waiting with her family. I was able to call the friend who had let me park at his house – he came to get me and bring me to my car… I had left my house in the morning – a world away – at 6:20 a.m. I think I got home around 9 p.m. It felt like a lifetime. They were targeting the families of the charity runners – that would be people like us – it’s just so hard to comprehend. I am so grateful that I am okay, but shell-shocked is an apt description – and thankful that everyone in our group was safe. What a sad, sad, day. Gail

Post Script: I later received several texts from the husband of the runner whom I had helped, thanking me for getting in touch with him. They live in LA; she was here by herself – he would have had no way to find out what happened to her for hours. She’s running again next year – and he’s coming with. We have plans to get together to pay tribute to the random acts of kindness that can bind strangers together. Gail”

Genzyme Marathon Team runner John Koltvedt of Sanofi Biosurgery – an e-mail to the Genzyme Marathon Team:
“Genzyme Running Family, I write this to you with many mixed emotions following the events just a few days ago. In the short time and brief meetings I‟ve had with most of you, I have always felt a sense of belonging and family. You all opened up to me and made me feel like part of your group which has long been standing. It was that feeling that I was hoping to have when I made the decision to commit the time, training, and efforts to making a difference in rare disease and to impact patients‟ lives. What I found was that I gained more than I had hoped for.

“In a day that was supposed to be filled with excitement, accomplishment, and joy, a terrible tragedy hit at the finish line. One thing I really missed on Monday was not being able to see you and have some sort of closure with the day and months leading up to it. Trust me, I was thinking of you all this evening while you were together. Because I couldn‟t be with you this evening, I hope you can allow me but just a few moments to share a glimpse at the finish.

“I had just finished the Boston Marathon, raised close to $3000.00 for NORD, and had the amazing experience of partnering with a wonderful little boy named Donnie. Over the weekend, I had the joy of seeing Donnie laugh over and over. Donnie and I developed a relationship and bond that I never thought possible. His smile greeted me at mile 14 along with several other Genzyme/Sanofi employees, friends and family. This gave me a tremendous boost.

“All of this quickly became insignificant in the immediate moments following the explosion. I had told my wife not to wait for me at the finish because I wanted to be able to see her right away in the reunion area. After the explosion, I knew in my gut she was at the finish. She had wanted to snap photos of all of us as we finished. I Thank God that Amy gave my wife and the Hunt family VIP passes that allowed them access to the grandstand on the other side of the street. If my wife and the Hunt family hadn‟t received these passes, would they have gone on the other side?

“In the following 30-45 minutes I searched frantically for Rebecca and then she finally found me. In the moments leading up to that reunion, I can honestly say, I have never been more scared in my life. Over the next 20-30 minutes we confirmed Donnie his Mother and Grandmother were also safe. They had left the grandstand minutes before the explosion. In all of this, my accomplishments were blurred, tainted and meaningless, I felt no joy only anger toward whoever would do such a thing.

“Sore, cold and shaken, we walked from Copley Square back across the river to Cambridge arriving at our hotel around 8:00 p.m. We finally were able to confirm all of your safety and communicate ours to most of our family and friends. Once we had a chance to collect ourselves and began to watch some of the news coverage, it was then we realized the magnitude of what had just happened and the countless and senseless effects on hundreds of people and their families.

“No matter how hard you try, there is no way to make any sense of it. Like all of you, I have made the choice to remember the good, the differences we made in rare disease awareness and the patient connections we developed that WILL last a lifetime. This bond and accomplishment is even more meaningful today. I have chosen to focus on the positive experiences; my new friend Donnie, the hundreds of “fives” I gave along the 26.2 mile route, the constant smiles, flags, signs and cheering for 26 miles and lastly all of you, my new running family.

“In the aftermath, my memories will focus on the concerned and caring people from around the world that came together in a 4 block area helping one another. I will remember the courage and strength exhibited by so many as well as the others who are unnamed and unknown who offered food, water, clothing or any other help to those in need. April 15th 2013 will be a day none of us will ever forget and we shouldn‟t. For me the day has only driven me to do it all again.

“Lastly, I know some of you did not get to finish the race. I cannot imagine the emotions this has caused, just remember your accomplishments were not just the finish line, it was the impact you were able to have prior to the race and in the months to come for patients with rare diseases. I look up to all of you and honor your efforts. As the team motto states, “Alone we are rare, together we are strong”.

Rebecca and I send our thoughts and prayers to all those that had their lives changed forever Monday. Our hearts go out to Boston…”

Rare Disease Community Member and Mother of a Patient Partner, Julie – an e-mail to Genzyme:

“I am thinking of all of you today, all of Boston, the patients, Genzyme runners and families, and the NORD and Genzyme folks who were instrumental in organizing the event. I had an opportunity to share a comment about Running for Rare Diseases and the Boston Marathon on WNYC Radio this morning. The comment begins at minute 26:21 of the Boston Marathon Bombing Updates of the link below. http://www.wnyc.org/shows/bl/2013/apr/16/boston-marathon-bombing-updates/. Participating in Running for Rare Diseases was a beautiful experience that even the most tragic events cannot shatter. - Best, Julie”

Genzyme Boston Marathon Team Member and Genzyme Running Team Board Member Kailene Simon, Principal Research Associate, Gene Therapy – an e-mail to the Marathon Team:

“To the 2013 Genzyme Boston Marathon team, As we sit at our desks on this sunny Monday morning, I‟m sure we are all very aware that it was just one week ago right now that we were venturing to the starting line of the 117th Boston Marathon. We walked to that starting line a strong, united team, ready to travel 26.2 miles for our patients, for their families, and for each other. It was an absolutely beautiful day and a beautiful race. I remember the anticipation of getting to mile 14, and seeing Gail’s smiling, bright face as she ran toward me with her beautiful sign. After having sat on the sidelines at that very spot last year, THIS was my year to feel the love and excitement that the RFRD community bestowed on each runner. And oh, did I ever! It was magical. And it gave me a huge push forward and I continued on to pass Bennett and my family at mile 17, friends of Ashley‟s at mile 19, a very excited Lisa Prior at mile 20, and a smiley Shay at mile 22. Then I heard two loud bangs, and received a phone call from my brother at mile 23. And you all know the rest of the story.

“But let me take a step back. It may take me a lifetime to tell you how much this year‟s team has meant to me. On Saturday night as I looked out over the room I felt such love and togetherness wash over me. I was so humbled by what this team had accomplished and SO proud to be a part of it. From the beginning, as we compiled the roster, we knew we had a special and unique group of runners – not just geographically, but in spirit, as well. When I put together my notes for what I wanted to say on Saturday, I struggled with how to keep my remarks under 10 minutes. I could have gone on for hours about each of you. Every single person on the team has left a mark this year, and every one of you has contributed something incredible.

“I know for many of you this is the first time you‟ve been a member of this team, so you have no frame of reference, but let me just say, the fact that so many of you had patient families get on a plane and fly all the way to Boston to be by your side is nothing short of remarkable. I cannot overstate that. This year we have all worked hard to create a family that the rare disease community is taking note of, and wants to be a part of. And quite frankly, we made it look easy… The connections you all made with your partners and your fellow teammates seemed so genuine and so effortless, and I know that is a direct reflection of the type of people you all are. Kind, good-hearted, sincere people who came out to run a marathon and maybe meet some good people along the way, and ended up making more of an impact than they could ever know. We have taken a tremendous step toward accomplishing our goal, both in the Genzyme community and in the rare disease community. I hope you all feel the sense of pride and achievement that I do – a feeling that has nothing to do with how many miles I ran on Monday or whether I crossed the finish line.

“So from the bottom of my heart, I want to say thank you. As someone who has been honored to be a part of this team, as someone who has watched a close family member lose their battle with a rare disease, and as someone who truly values your dedication, sincerity and friendship, thank you. Kai”

Derek Gavin, Director of Development, NORD – an e-mail to Genzyme:
“I want to help more towards next year’s Marathon event.  If the intent was to weaken the event, then in my opinion they failed miserably. The resolve of Bostonians is such that next year’s event will be stronger.”

Genzyme Boston Marathon Team Member David Cunningham, Sterile Fill Finish, Waterford, Ireland – an e-mail to the Marathon Team:

“I feel blessed to be chosen to run as part of the team last Monday, It was a weekend I will never forget for all sorts of reasons, but as Phil said in his post and Kai in her e-mail, we should remember all the good things that came out of the process, all the happiness and joy we gave ourselves, our patient partners and the extended Genzyme Running Team…that is priceless and that is something that cannot be taken away.

“You all made us feel so welcome during the lead up to traveling over and our time there, it seemed that one of you was always checking in with us to make sure we were ok and had something to do, or did we need a lift to attend one of our many enjoyable get-togethers…it was a very special few days for us and I feel we made many new friends in the process, ones that I hope to meet again soon.

“It was a pity that we did not get to meet up again afterwards, I was looking forward to hearing everyone‟s story of their race but it was not to be. I feel real sorry for those that did not get to finish, that must have been awful, there is always next year, I would imagine the BAA will give free entries to those people, it would be the right thing to do.

“For those that do not know, my patient partner, Ryan, has been released to return home to Waterford tomorrow. Great excitement here as this has come out of the blue, basically he is the first ALD patient to get such a response from a bone marrow transplant operation. The results of tests are showing that his quality of life may be extended beyond any previous estimate due to this response.

“Both Cian and I are meeting the boys with their parents next week sometime, it feels like I know them very well at this stage but we have not actually met as Ryan has been receiving treatment in Minnesota since last December. I cannot wait to meet him and I will keep everyone posted on his recovery.

“Thank you GRT and Thank You Boston for such a great few days. David”

An e-mail from Erica, one of the patient partners, to the Boston Marathon Team:

“I know I didn‟t meet everyone on this email but for the many that I did I am so thankful to have spent a glorious weekend with families and individuals who “just get it” and who I just didn‟t have to explain myself or really my disorder to! THANK YOU! You guys are my family, my friends, the ones who get what rare represents and who get that we both are and we are not our rare disorders; they are a part of us but not who we are. There is nothing that beats being w others who “just get it”!

“I hope to be able to come next year to cheer “our team, our family” and to remember so many who gave so much on Monday during such sad events. Thank you, Erica”


Links to other blog entries about the Boston Marathon Team experience:


How do I get involved?


See the photos from the dinner, breakfast and Mile 14

Thank you to photographers David Parnes and Doug Levy, who took photographs at all of the events around Marathon weekend. Visit http://davidparnes.zenfolio.com/marathon, and the password is: gzmarathon You can download any or all photos: click on any image to view it large, then mouseover, one of the boxes will say “download”. Then just choose “original” or “all available” and your download should begin automatically.

Posted in Patient Stories, Running Stories | 1 Comment

#Boston Strong

It has been ten days since the horrific events that occurred at the Boston Marathon. On the morning of the marathon as a member of the Running for Rare Diseases Team I was feeling excited about the new connections that we had made with the rare disease community. Many of the patient partners had flown in to watch the marathon and to participate in events in and around the Boston Area. It was amazing to witness the interactions between runner, patient partners and employees that were occurring throughout the weekend.

As I watched the dramatic events of the past week unfold, it made me think what can we do to help those who were most effected by the tragic events surrounding the Boston Marathon? As a member of the Running for Rare Diseases Marathon Team I wanted to remember those that were victims of the evil acts but also help this city heal from this tragedy that unfolded in front of our eyes seemingly on a daily basis. This Friday, along with Amy, another member of the marathon team we are having an event to pay tribute to the victims of the Boston Marathon explosions, while raising funds for the One Boston Fund.

From 6-8 p.m. on Friday April 26 at Towne Stove and Spirits please join us for an evening of remembrance. Towne has generously donated space for this event along with complimentary appetizers (as long as they last). We are asking for a suggested donation of 10 dollars and we will also be having a raffle. Raffle items include 2 tickets to Kenny Chesney at Gillette Stadium, One night stay at the DoubleTree, restaurant gift certificates and more!

For more information and to RSVP please check out https://www.facebook.com/events/506496606080685/

Andrew

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Habits and Opportunities

There are 3 elements of a habit: a trigger, a routine and a reward. For example, my morning starts at 4:15 AM when my alarm goes off – the trigger.  Having planned the previous evening to meet a co-worker at 5:45, there starts the routine; a 5.5 mile run along the Charles River.  The reward follows at 6:30 when I complete the run and that is my accomplishment.  Some mornings external factors such as weather and lack of sleep make the accomplishment (reward) that much more significant and I am sure to give just recognition to that daily accomplishment; another habit.

On Monday, maybe unbeknownst to any of us, a habit was formed in the wake of the tragedy. The trigger is the press, email, the word marathon, John Hancock, NORD, the word partner, bomb … and the routine is to think about the horror that took place on the afternoon of April 15, 2013.  Unfortunately, the reward is the sadness that our bodies exhibit as the defense mechanism to cope with the horrifying thoughts of the day.

None of us will be able to completely eliminate the trigger.  We will just not be able to forget the day as there will always be a reminder.  The thing that we can impact is the routine and ultimately the reward.  I am committing myself to force this habit to not immediately think about the tragedy.  It is important that we never forget those truly impacted by this devastating event but I am going to control when I choose to think about the tragedy.

The routine I am going to develop is to think about Friday night’s dinner with my wife, Ann, and my patient partner’s family, Shannon  and Alexa.  I will think about Saturday, going to the Expo and spending time with all of the marathon runners picking up my bib and feeling the excitement of race day.  I will  think of the dinner; sharing one of the most special evenings in my life with all of the runners, families and rare disease community families in attendance.  I will think about the race day breakfast and Shannon putting on my warrior paint and again seeing all of the patient families and runners and connecting with everyone again after the wonderful Saturday dinner. I will think about the ride to Hopkinton with the team and the preparation for the race. I will think about 14 miles of running on that glorious course, high fiving kids and spectators  and recognizing friends along the way.  I will think about the 4-minute stop at mile 14.5; touching, hugging, and embracing all of the community members and family in their warrior paint (that was a magical 4 minutes!!).  I will think about the next 12 miles, nearly effortlessly tackling the 4 Newton Hills and high fiving  nearly everyone for 3 straight miles with Shane as spectators chanted “Go Genzyme.”  Finally, I will think about Tuesday, spending closure time with Shannon and Alexa, having lunch and taking them to the airport to return to Arizona.

The reward speaks for itself. This community will forever be tied to the events of April 15, 2013.  Let us all use this tie to stay connected with each other and remember the wonderful relationships formed over the last few months.  Use the triggers that we can’t control to inspire each of us to do what we can control; reach out to our team members and partners and say “hey, I was thinking about you today.”  Let’s use this tragedy as a positive means to build our community.

There lies the opportunity!

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Right on Hereford, Left on Boylston

To those denied the opportunity to go right on Hereford, left on Boylston in the 117th Boston Marathon and to those whose lives were irrevocably altered by doing so. This is for you.

It was a Saturday in mid-January, and the snow-lined carriage road on Commonwealth Avenue was alive with runners training for the Boston Marathon. I was with fellow Genzyme runners Kyle and Andrew, excited for our first long run of the training season on the marathon course. It was only my third or fourth run after a three-week running hiatus inflicted on me when I had to get a mole removed from my foot. On my previous shorter runs, I’d felt sluggish and had almost forgotten that I used to love running.

But this run was different. On this run, the magic returned in full force and it felt like my feet barely touched the ground. As Kyle, Andrew, and I took off, we were greeted by dozens of other smiling, hopeful, excited faces. Everyone had that Boston Marathon glow of determination, anticipation, and pure joy. Even on this early winter training run, many runners sported jerseys expressing why they were running, jerseys with logos for Children’s Hospital or the National MS Society, jerseys with phrases handwritten in Sharpie like “Running for Mickey – miss you and love you always!”

Hailing from the close-knit Boston running community, we knew several of the runners we saw that morning. But even those we didn’t personally know felt like friends and teammates, and we acknowledged each other with the understanding that we shared the same goal: to make it to the finish line of the Boston Marathon. Though we were running in the same race, we weren’t competitors. We were all fighting against our own limitations and fighting for the causes we believed in.

And we were fighting fiercely. Many of these runners were first-time marathoners who would have to struggle against pain, exhaustion, crowded schedules, and a host of other barriers to train successfully for the grueling race. In addition, those running for charity would have to appeal to everyone they knew to raise thousands of dollars for their causes. For months – and often even longer – we worked for every mile, every dollar. We got up early, we stayed up late, we went out in the cold, we went out on a limb to ask for support. But always, we had our goal in mind. After putting in the miles, after raising a meaningful sum of money, we would eventually make it from Hopkinton to Copley Square in Boston.

When I first found out I would be able to run in the Boston Marathon, the only piece of related paraphernalia I allowed myself to buy was a magnet that said, “Right on Hereford, Left on Boylston,” indicating the final two turns of the course before the finish line. I put it on my refrigerator so that I would see it every day and be reminded of my goal. If I didn’t feel like going for a six-mile run that day or I wasn’t sure when I’d fit in the time to plan my next fundraiser, I would look at that magnet for inspiration. As in a marathon, every step covered only a minuscule fraction of the distance to the finish line, but every step was necessary to get there.

That phrase and that final part of the course became symbolic, representing the moment of truth when all the hours, emails, sweat, and blood would come to fruition and I would feel the joy of a job well done.

The Boston Marathon is more than a race; it’s a beacon of hope, a personal narrative of overcoming obstacles, a vehicle for giving everything we have for a cause greater than ourselves. There’s a reason the Boston Marathon’s slogan is “all in.” Runners usually take it easy in lesser races if they’re injured; there’s no sense in making it worse and missing crucial weeks of training. Not so for Boston. When we run Boston, we run like nothing matters so long as we reach the finish line.

We run with faces set like flint toward the finish line. Nothing short of the horrific events of this year’s marathon would stop us from pushing through that last mile to make it to Hereford and then to Boylston.

Many runners who were hindered by the explosion continued on to the finish line, such as Bill Iffrig, a 78-year-old man who was knocked to the ground by the bomb but got up and finished his race.

This is what the marathon spirit is: We fight the good fight; we finish the race; we keep the faith. Even now, events such as The Last 5 and The Last Mile are being organized to give the runners who were stopped prematurely an opportunity to finish the course and to allow the city of Boston to stand up and declare that no one can ruin our marathon. We will finish the race we set out to run.

We will finish it together. Though all 27,000 of us had our own reasons for entering the Boston Marathon this year, from now on, we will also have a common cause – remembering those affected by this tragedy and fighting evil not with more violence but with the perseverance and hope that characterize marathon running – and that will be a force to be reckoned with. To everyone affected by these events, every step from here until the finish line of next year’s Boston Marathon and beyond is for you.

To everyone who didn’t get to finish the marathon on Monday, please know that this doesn’t diminish your accomplishments. Wear your marathon jacket with pride and as a statement that no one can take away the significance and beauty of this event. Find your own way to go right on Hereford, left on Boylston, and cross the finish line in victory.

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Marathon Update

A belated note to the blog to let you know that all the team runners and patient families are safe. Each of us was overwhelmed when we returned home by the concerned calls and messages reaching out to us from across the country.

What began as a beautiful day, through an evil act, became surreal, chaotic, and unbearably tragic.

Going off at 2:50 PM, the bombs specifically targeted charity runners as they finished. The race clock had even been toggled to show the elapsed time since the 10:40 AM wave 3 start. Family members at the finish were the primary victims.

Many of our team members were safely past the finished area at the time of the blast, while others finished their runs at 25.7 miles; just short of the Mass Ave underpass.

Our thoughts are with the families who have lost loved ones and are with the many seriously injured.

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Follow the Runners on Race Day

If you plan on watching the Boston Marathon on Monday, April 15, be sure to cheer for the 17 members of the “Running for Rare Diseases” team who are running for the National Organization for Rare Disorders (NORD). Runners have spent the past several months training together (through a snowy Boston winter!), building relationships with their rare disease patient partners, organizing fundraising events, and supporting each other through training & fundraising advice, group runs, and attending each other’s events.

The team is extremely grateful to its supporters and would love to see as many of you out on the marathon course as possible!

Join Team Running for Rare Diseases Team Supporters at Mile 14 in Wellesley

Many co-workers and patient partners will be stationed at mile 14 in Wellesley to cheer for the runners and hand out water and Gatorade. People will begin congregating at the meeting spot at the Unitarian Universalist Society of Wellesley (309 Washington Street, Wellesley) around 9 a.m. and will stay until the final team runner has passed (approximately 1 p.m.). The meeting spot is located steps away from the Wellesley Hills commuter rail stop; given the road closures on Marathon Monday, this is the recommended method of transportation.

All co-workers and their friends and family are more than welcome to join this group. Please email Shay Zukowski if you need additional information.

Tracking Runners

No matter where you plan to watch the race or if you’d like to keep track of it virtually, you can sign up to receive text message alerts when runners cross the following points: 10K (6.2 miles), halfway mark (13.1 miles), 30K (18.6 miles – in the midst of the infamous Newton hills), and finish line. Just text RUNNER to 345678 to sign up for these notifications. The BAA website will also have a place where you can put in runners’ bib numbers and see their progress, but this tracking system does not show up until race day.

Most the runners are in Wave 3, Corral 6, and will be starting around 10:40 a.m. They will be wearing blue running bibs and white tank tops. Sharon will be starting at 10:20 a.m. in Wave 2, wearing white running bibs.

Runners & Bib Numbers

Jessi Colund 23934
Sharon Cotnam 17394
David Cunningham 23938
Colleen Dalton-Petillo 25306
James Drob 13592
Kyle Kellinghaus 23942
John Koltvedt 23937
Phil Maderia 11242
Sean McShera 23932
Cian O’Brien 23939
Jack Prior 23930
Kristin Rapp 23941
Andrew Scholte 23933
Kai Simon 23931
Jen Tedstone 23940
Lisa Valaika 23936
Dan Wilkens 23935

10:02 Wheelchairs pass Wellesley
10:49Lead Women pass Wellesley
11:08 Lead Men pass Wellesley location
1:00 Several team runners pass Wellesley

Getting to 1/2 way point
Supporters and patient families will gather at half way point in front yard of Unitarian church at 309 Washington Street, Wellesley. You should be able to park in Route 9-accessible neighborhood off clark street or in neighborhood to right just after route 9 goes under route 16.

Useful Links:

RunningForRareDiseases.org

Spectator Guide

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The Starting Line

Race Director Dave McGillivray runs the Boston Marathon every year after all the other runners have finished.

Race Director Dave McGillivray runs the Boston Marathon every year after all the other runners have finished.

Every year after tens of thousands of runners have finished the Boston Marathon, Race Director Dave McGillivray stands at the starting line in Hopkinton, ready to run the course. His day started before dawn and was filled with making harried phone calls to town officials and police, handling the logistics of everything from disaster preparedness to water stations and port-a-potties, and generally dealing with higher-than-normal blood pressure. He spent the entire day on his feet, not eating, not hydrating, not getting into a pre-marathon “Zen” mindset. Yet as the sun dips toward the horizon and the crowds of spectators disperse, leaving the course littered with pieces of trash like breadcrumbs leading toward Copley Square, McGillivray finds peace at the start of his journey.

McGillivray has stood at the starting line every year since 1973. He’s made it to the finish line every year except that first year, when he was sixteen years old and ran the race as a “bandit” (unofficial, unregistered runner). His grandfather waited for him in vain until 7 p.m. at Coolidge Corner, 23 miles into the race, and then finally gave up and went home. When he saw his grandson that night, he told McGillivray to train and run the race again next year; he’d be waiting once again at Coolidge Corner to cheer him on to the finish. But he passed away a few months later and never saw McGillivray cross the finish line. McGillivray vowed to run every year in memory of his grandfather. When he was offered a position as Technical Director of the Boston Marathon in 1988, with duties that would occupy him during the race, he started his personal tradition of running the course after all the other runners had finished.

Kathrine Switzer, the first officially registered woman to run the Boston Marathon, is grabbed by race official Jock Semple.

Race official Jock Semple tries to force Kathrine Switzer, the first officially registered woman to run the Boston Marathon, out of the race.

Just a few years earlier, in 1967, another prominent figure of Boston Marathon lore made her way to the starting line for the first time. Because women weren’t officially allowed to run the Boston Marathon until 1972, Kathrine Switzer, registered as “K.V. Switzer,” was the only woman at the starting line that year.  A few miles in, Race Director Jock Semple noticed Switzer. Infuriated by the ribbing he was getting from spectators and other race officials about a “girl running in ‘his’ race,” Semple ran onto the course, grabbed Switzer by the shoulders, and tried to tear her race number off her sweatshirt. Switzer recalls that the look on his face was terrifying. Her boyfriend, who was also running the marathon, shoved Semple off the course, allowing Switzer to keep running. She became the first officially registered woman to cross the finish line of the Boston Marathon.

During the remainder of her journey, Switzer let the long miles work their magic and untangle her thoughts and emotions surrounding this experience. She says she went from feeling humiliated to feeling angry to letting it go.  She accepted that Semple was acting on the biases he had been taught. She also recognized that her own confidence in her ability to run a marathon was a gift, one that most women couldn’t enjoy until they were given the opportunity to try long-distance running. In the final miles of the race, she decided that she would fight for those opportunities for all women. This decision shaped the rest of her life. Among her many accomplishments for women runners, she was instrumental in getting a women’s marathon instituted at the Olympics, and many elite women runners today credit Switzer with making their successes possible.

The Boston Marathon starts in the town of Hopkinton.

The Boston Marathon starts in the town of Hopkinton.

Let’s raise the curtain one final time on Hopkinton, on a much more recent Marathon Monday. A Mecca for runners from all over the world, Hopkinton seems to require more public restrooms, hotel rooms, and other necessities on this one day than on the rest of the year combined. According to the April 11, 2013, issue of The Hopkinton Independent, several local families open up their homes every year to meet some of the runners’ basic needs like food, sunscreen, bandages, and a clean restroom. Such simple gestures can make the difference between starting the marathon uncomfortably – and continuing it in ever-increasing pain – and starting it relaxed, refreshed, and ready to go.

One young runner asked for a special favor from his Hopkinton host, Nanda Barker-Hook. Presenting her with a Sharpie marker, he asked her to write “Will you marry me?” on his chest so that, after running his race, he could pull off his sweat-soaked jersey and propose to his girlfriend. Barker-Hook, of course, was more than willing to help him out.

Though I do not know the name or the face of this runner, I can imagine what was in his mind every step of the way from Hopkinton to Boston. I can feel the purposefulness of his stride, the excitement singing in his heart, as he concentrated on the knowledge that every sore muscle and every gasping breath were bringing him closer to the woman he loves.

What does it mean to stand at the starting line of the Boston Marathon?

It’s the beginning of an unknown story, a potentially life-changing journey. It’s a race where a bandit runner who didn’t even finish can become the race director, where a woman whom race officials tried to physically force out of the event can become a heroine for a generation, and where an unnamed runner can win his true love after completing his quest.

Like McGillivray, Switzer, and the romantic runner, all of us running the Boston Marathon have lived unique stories that brought us to the starting line. But standing there in Hopkinton, we all turn to a blank page. None of us knows the words, themes, and metaphors that will emerge in our story, but we believe that both the highs and the lows will make it beautiful. We all know the geographical destination of our journey is Copley Square, but none of us knows what we’ll find on the way there or whether the real journey will continue for years or a lifetime.

Genzyme's 2008 Boston Marathon Team and a group of supporters

Genzyme’s 2008 Boston Marathon Team and a group of supporters

In 2008, four runners from Genzyme’s Allston site stood at the Boston Marathon starting line. Through fundraising for the National Organization for Rare Disorders (NORD), the men had chosen to run this race for a cause they all cared about: improving the lives of those living with rare diseases. At the starting line that day, none of them could have foreseen the explosive growth of the Running for Rare Diseases team.

The explosive growth of the Genzyme Running Team

The explosive growth of the Genzyme Running Team

Two years later, in addition to raising funds for NORD, Genzyme’s runners began partnering with individual patients, creating meaningful connections and relationships that seem too perfect to be coincidences. (Just read other posts and patient stories on this blog to see what I mean!) This year, the team has expanded to 17 members from across the country and around the world, and the Genzyme Running Team now participates in races besides the Boston Marathon, regular training runs, and the Rare Disease Day Relay as well.

Shortly after last year’s Boston Marathon, I was at a Japanese Society of Boston dinner with a few Genzyme Boston Marathoners because our Sanofi colleague Wakako Tsuchida, five-time winner of the women’s wheelchair division of the Boston Marathon, was speaking at the event. At that point, I had barely started running distances between 5 and 8 miles. My colleagues had already convinced me to sign up for a half-marathon at the end of the summer, a distance that was pretty intimidating to me.

Japanese Daruma Doll: Color one eye when you set a goal and the other eye when you accomplish it.

Japanese Daruma Doll: Color one eye when you set a goal and the other eye when you accomplish it.

That night, they started trying to convince me to run the Newport Marathon in October. I told them they were crazy and I would never be a marathoner, but the thought took hold in me that very night.

Later in the evening, all the dinner attendees were given a little Japanese Daruma doll. We were supposed to color in one of the doll’s eyes when we set a goal (and they told us it had to be a big goal that really mattered) and then color in the other eye when we accomplished the goal.

As I colored in one eye, I promised myself, “I am going to run the Boston Marathon. Because things happen when you run the Boston Marathon.”

There will be 17 of us standing at the starting line this year, each eagerly anticipating our own journey. I can smell the fragrance of new parchment, and I can’t wait to begin writing.

The starting line of the 117th Boston Marathon

The starting line of the 117th Boston Marathon

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Warrior Paint Campaign

Marathon Monday is almost here!!  As you know Phil Madera will be running in honor of our little Wylder James who battled Niemann Pick A disease.  This is a beautiful reminder the GOODNESS in the World that Wylder taught us is out there everyday.  And this is continuing to help bring our Rare Disease community together … uniting more and more to raise awareness to make a difference for kiddos like yours battling rare genetic disease.

teamgenzyme

To show the team our love and support for there efforts, and to remind Phil our Warrior Wylder James will be with him in spirit every step of the way … we have come up with a Warrior Paint Campaign. The goal is to receive 1,000 photos of YOU in your WARRIOR paint by next Monday!!!

It’s simple.  Dabble a bit of Warrior Paint (aka. face paint, or sunscreen) onto your cheeks and the cheeks of those you love and send them our way.  Send to me at shannon@wyldernation.org or post to the WN FB Page at https://www.facebook.com/Wylderjames  As the photos start to come in, I am going to create a “PAGE”" on Wylder’s website (HERE) where I will archive all the photos we receive of you loveies in your paint.

After sending Phil a few photos of Wylder months back he selected Wylder’s famous Warrior Paint photo to wear over his heart on this very special upcoming Marathon Monday.  I will be on the sidelines with my mom, some genzyme friends, Phil’s family, and many of you who are coming out to show your support.  We will be draped on our Wylder Nation gear with our painted faces for a day of cheering!

warriorbabypict

Let us come together and paint the town WARRIOR style!  Over the next week please get together with your friends, family, co-workers, church groups, neighborhood kids  and show Phil and the team some LOVE …. WARRIOR Style. Get together, have some laughs, paint those beautiful faces and show your support for them and the WARRIORS in your lives.   We are starting the campaign off right now with Wylder’s dog Maddie ….

maddie
tee hee hee

The goal is 1,000 pictures in one week!   Please share, share, share that your care. Include pictures of YOUR rare disease Warrior’s and those who love them most.  May we all be reminded how many very special Warriors there are battling rare disease and how loved they all are.  Please share this post and this campaign and your picts on facebook, twitter, instagram all week.  Let us all come together… reminding Phil and the team  the strength of our Warrior Wylder James and the support system around them and bring on the photos!!!  Thank you, thank you, thank you to everyone who donated and continues to donate to Phil and his amazing cause for NORD (HERE) and all of you that are going to send Warrior paint photos are way.

The team will most certainly feel our strength, love and support through our photos to him and  I know you, our sweet Wylder, will be smiling down on us when you see these photos coming in and Phil on his run thinking of YOU.  Wylder we know all things are possible because of you.  You are loved little one, so loved!  See you in our dreams Warrior.  xoxo

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Our Story — Ryan and Ethan – Adrenoleukodystrophy (ALD)

[David and Cian are traveling from Waterford Ireland to run the Boston Marathon for their patient partners Ryan and Ethan.]

Ryan and Ethan Caulfield McCormack from Tramore, Co.Waterford, were recently diagnosed with Adrenoleukodystrophy (ALD).  ALD, is a deadly genetic disease that affects 1 in 18 000 people. It most severely affects boys and men. This brain disorder destroys myelin, the protective sheath that surrounds the brain’s neurons — the nerve cells that allow us to think and to control our muscles. ALD causes relentless progressive deterioration to a vegetative state or death, usually within five years. It knows no racial, ethnic or geographic barriers.

The prognosis for patients with childhood cerebral X-ALD is generally poor due to progressive neurological deterioration unless bone marrow transplantation is performed early.

Ryan is currently in the US in rehabilitation after undergoing the process for a bone marrow transplant which was performed on the 26th December 2012.

Ethan is currently asymptomatic due to his age (childhood ALD only becomes symptomatic from age 5 generally) and will become a candidate for a bone marrow transplant when his myelin sheath begins to deteriorate. There is presently no cure for ALD.

Currently the people of Waterford and the surrounding areas are on a campaign to raise funds to cover the remaining costs of the transplants (estimated at 3 million euros, some of which is being paid by medical insurance). We, as a community have vowed not to have either boy denied treatment due to lack of funds. Any donations, big or small are appreciated.

Please take the time to read the story from their mother, Caroline, below. 

David and Cian

Our Story

ryan-bige-jack
Ryan, Big E and Jack.

 

Life was pretty normal until a short while ago.

In 2006, I gave birth to twins, two beautiful boys, Ryan and Jack. They were both perfect, healthy and happy in every way and meeting all their milestones with ease. As a mum, I couldn’t have been happier. It got even better two years later when another bundle of joy arrived in the form of Ethan, whom we affectionately call “Big E”. I was blessed with three beautiful boys & life was rosy.

In August 2010, Ryan and Jack started in the local primary school and Big E started in playschool. Everything was as it should be, hectic but fun!

Suddenly, in August 2012, I noticed that Ryan was exhibiting some unusual symptoms. I wasn’t at all sure what was wrong but I was very concerned. He had become a little clumsy and his attention span seemed a bit short. When Ryan went back to school in September, his teacher also noticed that something was amiss and thought maybe that there was something wrong with his hearing but a hearing and eye test confirmed that all was normal. I was still very concerned, so I got Ryan referred to our local hospital where he underwent a full examination.

The consultant assured me that everything was fine and referred Ryan to a psychologist. Any mum out there will understand when I say that I just knew that something was desperately wrong even though all his tests were coming up clear. A visit with a fantastic speech and language therapist who agreed that something was not right, I decided to seek a second opinion.

I put Ryan in the car that evening and brought him to Dublin. This time, I insisted that an MRI scan be carried out. The next morning, my whole world fell to pieces, literally. Ryan was diagnosed with hereditary ALD, a disease I remembered seeing in the film “Lorenzo’s Oil” about 25 years before. Following extensive research online, we found a hospital in Minnesota that deals with ALD and there, Ryan began his journey on the 26th November 2012. A bone marrow transplant was the only hope for Ryan. This procedure carried with it huge risks that I don’t like to dwell on but it was the only option available to us at the time.

As ALD is a hereditary, primary a male disease and even though the chances were only one in 2 million, we decided to get Jack, Ryan’s twin and Big E tested. It turned out that, despite the odds, Big E also has ALD.

As of today Saturday April 6th, Ryan is continuing his rehab at a Ronald McDonald house in the US, he is getting his lines out and we were making plans to come home to Tramore but unfortunately, he’s back in hospital. It’s a suspected case of pneumonia and our fingers are all crossed that’s all it is.

The good news for Ryan is that the disease has not spread in the last two months (results of MRI) so the transplant seems to have done its job, it will never repair the damage that was done and he still has a long road ahead but has come very far since September.

As for Ethan, the results of his MRI scan came back and he is all good for another 6 months as there is no change in his condition.

We need to make more parents and consultants aware of the symptoms this deadly, silent HORRIBLE disease. Thanks for reading this and for the overwhelming support that my family have received over the last few weeks.

Caroline McCormack

On behalf of Jimmy, Ryan, Jack and Big E xxx
rje-family

 

 

 

 

 

Adrenoleukodystrophy Awareness

A short video explanation of the effects of ALD and possible treatments available to the effected patient:

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