Spotlight - Mary Knight

"Why do you run?" Gasp! How do I respond? 

After reading countless spotlights of the beautiful stories my running friends have shared, I feel a greater connection to them, their stories and to the NYC roads we will share together on November 1st. 

Yep, I guess that's it. I run because I'm inspired. I'm inspired by all of the people who put away their daily pains and hit the road running.

Around 2010, my Grams was diagnosed with Alzheimer's. Instead of thinking of the last few years we had with her and how she wasn't truly herself I force myself to remember the good times we had together. I remember when she use to pick us up from school and take us to Baskin Robbins. Mom would never let us have more than a kiddie size. Grams let us have two scoops. She brought me on her shopping trips to Neiman Marcus where all the sales assistants knew her name, where she would request purple eyeshadow, sparkly outfits and the best designers. She was one of a kind. 

However, my running inspiration changed last minute as my father unexpectedly passed two months ago. Even writing those words tears stream down my eyes. I was lucky to have one of those relationships with a Dad where the daughter could do no wrong. My heart has been heavy and in immense pain the last few weeks, but I have found strength through remembering his hilariously contagious spirit. He did the quirkiest things. If you know me at all, you know shy is the last word that comes to mind. It was a trait I received from my Dad. The guy never left a building without his presence being known. The stories to share about him are lengthy in nature and will leave you with a smile on your face. One of the favorites my friends like to share is his wonderful night owl quality which allowed them to name him Mr. Makie's taxi service. He was truly the best in every aspect of his life. Although I didn't know it would be our second to last conversation I was lucky enough to tell him he was my inspiration and that has made all the difference in grieving his goodbye. 

When I'm running and wanna give up, I channel his voice and can still hear him signing my praise in the nickname he made up for me: "Good going, Gou!" 

Spotlight - Malcolm Williams

My Mom, Peggy Williams, was an accomplished musician. She graduated from Hart School of Music with a degree in voice. Mom had a beautiful soprano voice expressed through opera, theater and church to name a few.  Also, she played six instruments and acted in many plays. She was a huge patron of the arts.

Unfortunately, our story is not unique. Alzheimer's robs us all of strong, talented and intelligent family members. I don't know exactly what David meant in the 23rd Psalm when he said, "though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death", but I feel that sums up the effect of Alzheimer's. I see the light in my Mom slowly dim. It is so heartbreaking.

I read that a lot of the ATEA team are running their first marathon on behalf of their loved one. What a significant beginning in a World Class marathon for a fantastic cause. I, on the other hand, will probably run my last marathon. After many dozens of marathons, I can think of no better marathon to finish my marathon career. This will be my greatest marathon!  This one's for you Mom.

(I'll still keep running half marathons and my favorite the 15k)

Spotlight - Caroline Evans

I fully admit to all who ask that I signed up for the New York City Marathon on an emotional whim, it was March of this year and I was alone in my apartment a few weeks after losing my grandmother.  I was at a loss for how I was “supposed” to be reacting. I felt completely alone, even though I was surrounded by a multitude of supportive friends and family.  I felt the need to do something cause the emptiness was eating at my core.  After clicking submit on my submission, I forgot about it.  I felt accomplished, I had done something and at least it was a step forward. This reprieve lasted till the day I opened my email to read the one subject line I was not emotionally or physically equipped for “Congratulations! Welcome to Athletes to End Alzheimer’s New York City Marathon Team.”

I am now five months into my marathon training and 27 days away from race day.  I am still intimidated by the number 26.2, but the key difference between now and when I applied is I believe I am going to cross the finish line.  I am going to run 26.2 miles for my Nana!

My grandmother, Nana was true New Englander who married a wonderful Southern gentleman and never quite fit in down South.  The issue was she would always let you know her opinion.  Whether it was popular or not, she spoke her mind outright and that is not really the Southern way.  But her heart was huge!! Everyone who crossed path with

Nana has heard her brag about her children or grandchildren; we were her greatest accomplishment in life!  She was always happiest up in Nantucket surrounded by family every summer.  She would take walks down the same road super early every morning, so she could be back by the time all of us kids were awake.  She would spend hours sunning her in the yard, so she could be right in thick it.  She never wanted to miss a beat. She hosted Sunday morning pancake breakfast for all us grandchildren every week, originally she would make the pancake batter where all you added was water and it kind of tasted like cardboard.  Though if you added enough syrup it was totally edible. As we grew old enough we began to cook with her (or at least us girls did) and Sunday pancakes improved first to the boxed pancakes where eggs and oil are required and finally to making them from scratch.  It was a tradition! 

When I was in middle school, she had dial up Internet installed into her house and bought a computer, so she could teach herself how to use it.  She knew that the world was changing and the best way to keep up with her grandkids was through the Internet, so she determined to learn.  For months, I would receive emails with only a single word or sentence cause she had pressed send to fast, but she determined if it took her 10+ emails to get her story across she would send them all.  Eventually she got the hang of it and really did keep up!  She still loved sending us grandkids snail mail and you always knew it was from her, because she would never write anything or sign the card.  Sometimes there would be a smiley face and other times it would be completely blank, it wasn’t because she forgot.  She always wanted to leave the possibility for you to share this card with someone else and make him or her smile too. 

I could go on with endless stories about her quirky, loving nature like the butter and sugar sandwiches she used to send to school as lunch for my mom (yes, you read that right just butter and sugar) or her lifesaver game, but I should probably stop as I’m starting to cry.  I miss her often and I still can’t process all the future milestones in my life that she won’t be a part of.  Nana, thank you for teaching me to speak my mind, live life with passion and love your family with all your heart (even when they drive you crazy)!! I love you Nana!

Spotlight - Matthew Baier

A person can change a lot in two years, especially when that person is suffering from dementia as in my mother’s case. In 2013, I completed my first marathon; it was a truly amazing experience made even more memorable because I ran with Athletes to End Alzheimer’s.

At that point my mom was just beginning to need a home health aide – mostly to keep her company, but also to prevent her from taking long walks with her dog for fear she may not be able to find her way home. My father was still working full-time though spending less and less time at the office.

Fast forward two years… my father has since retired yet instead of spending his golden years golfing, visiting children and grandchildren, and vacationing with my mother, he spends his days making sure she remembers to eat, takes her medication, and is being properly cared for. In the beginning, we were very fortunate that the disease progressed fairly slowly. However, the past few years have been marked by a steady decline. She can longer be left alone and needs assistance with even the most basic tasks that many of us take for granted. Although this dreaded disease is robbing my family of a wife, mother, grandmother, sister, aunt, and friend, it has not been able to take away her love of people.  My mother may not know our names or how we are related to her, but she does know that we belong in her life and finds comfort being around her family.

When I finished that marathon back in 2013, I thought that was it -- mission accomplished. I had raised nearly $10,000 for an amazing cause while completing a personal goal. However, when I saw that the 2015 TCS NYC Marathon was being held on November 1st, I knew I had to lace up my running shoes one more time. On Marathon Sunday both of my parents will be celebrating their 78th birthdays. What could be more perfect than to honor my parents by running and raising awareness for this terrible disease that has had such a tremendous impact on us all.

I can’t tell you how excited I am to once again accept the challenge of running 26.2 miles through the five boroughs of New York City as a member of Athletes to End Alzheimer's and completing the marathon in honor of my mother Hattie.

Spotlight - Courtney Correnti

On November 1st, I will cross my fourth marathon finish line, this time for a charity with profound personal meaning.

I am running the 2015 TCS New York City Marathon with the Athletes to End Alzheimer's to honor my mother, Charlene, who was diagnosed with Alzheimer's Disease in 2013.  My mother has Alzheimer's.  Yep. Still sounds surreal to even say it.  But, I say it, and I say it without hesitation.  

There is no shame in it; and, the more the disease is given a face, the more it will be talked about.

If you're one of the people reading this, you already know the numbers. They're staggering.  So, from both a quantifiable and emotional place, I am running for my mother, and for my whole family, because it could be any of us.  We don't have a family history.  The unknown has come along, and believe me, it's schooled me in all things Alzheimer's.

Without seeking the root of the problem and figuring out how to prevent it, everything else is really a band-aid. I was taught that if I saw people  falling off of a mountain, I wouldn't send an ambulance to the bottom.  I'd run to the top to see what the hell was going on.  Well, we're there.  People are falling off of that mountain left and right, and I run so that our resources can be used to prevent this. 

I run because The Alzheimer's Association has been an immense support network for me.  The 24-hour hotline is always there, and my support group has been an incredibly centering force in my life.  Through the connections I've made there, I was referred to a wonderful licensed clinical social worker.  The chapter asks nothing in return.  So, I really do want to give back to an organization that does so much for me and my family.

I run because my mother's a funny woman, and I am consistently moved that she's still self-aware of her comedic ability--sometimes even laughing hysterically at her own jokes.  Sometimes, when the mother I know stops and the mother I'm starting to know begins, I reminisce with her about one of her various sitcom-worthy stunts, and BOOM.  She's back.  I run because I want her, and others like her, to maintain what makes them smile.

I run because things have changed, and I don't know what else to do about how unfair that is.  I know now I have to keep my telephone conversations with my mother concise.  My mother, the same woman who used to proof-read my papers in high school and insist I compete with her on crossword puzzles (otherwise, she swore my SAT verbal would suffer) has changed. 

So, there you have it.  I have no control here, and I hate that.  But, I can help.  I can love my mother; I can give her great care; and, I can raise money for this incredibly worthy cause.

An old friend told me that running this marathon was my version of making lemonade from life's lemons.  And, that pretty much sums it all up.  Running this marathon will be 26.2 miles worth of what's been some incredibly rewarding lemonade.

Spotlight - Caitlyn Cardetti

Throughout high school and college, I worked as a nursing assistant in a nursing home where I took care of many residents with various ailments but the ones who stood out the most to me were those suffering from Alzheimer’s disease. Watching this disease was absolutely devastating - not only for the resident but also for their family. The hurt look in the daughter’s eyes when her mother was unable to recognize her. The family’s guilt that the nurse can soothe grandma when they, her family, had failed to do so. For five years, I helplessly watched this disease wreak its havoc on so many - I was ecstatic when I moved on to my position at a hospital where I was actually able to save people. Alzheimer’s and its inevitable demise were finally out of my life. That is until my late grandfather was diagnosed with the disease a few years ago. The sad truth is that Alzheimer’s is not going anywhere. In fact, as our aging population increases so will the prevalence of this disease. It cannot be avoided. So let’s fight it head on.

 

That’s why I’ve dedicated both my personal and professional life to the fight. I'm currently a research assistant at Columbia University working on a study looking at the effects of aerobic exercise on cognitive function and brain structure. Also I’m in the process for applying to neurobiology programs to pursue research more specifically targeted to AD itself.

I’m running this race in honor of my grandfather, Rodolfo Cardetti. And I’m doing my research with the hope that one day others will not have to witness or suffer from this disease.

Spotlight - Mary Brower

Since I am running on behalf of my mom, you may think she was a great runner who participated in lots of events, including perhaps a marathon. And you would be wrong. She occasionally swam, but never ran. I, however, am the opposite I run, but I don't swim. Well, I can swim enough so I won't drown in the pool or anything, but dump my ass out in the middle of the ocean and I am shark kibble.

My mom was one of those awesome moms that all my friends wished they had. She was fun loving, mischievous (in a good way), caring, and very open. I could talk to her about anything and everything without a problem. Even the dreaded S-E-X was acceptable. (To discus, not act upon--don't want to give you the wrong idea here!) She was not only my mom, but also my friend.

Throughout my entire childhood, mom was always a bit forgetful and easily confused. She would always play it off with a laugh or a joke. Sometime at her own expense. My brother and I grew up thinking--that's just mom, you know how she is. We never thought twice about it. Perhaps we should have.

In 1993 my dad had his first heart attack and it was also at this time we discovered that he was a type 2 diabetic. My mom became his primary caregiver while working full time. So any mix-ups about times or dates, etc. were chalked up to her having too many balls in the air. Again, we didn't think anything of it, it was just mom being mom.

After my dad passed away in 2004, we noticed changes in mom, but chalked it up to her losing her partner and being on her own for the first time in her life. Mom had gone straight from her father's house to her husband’s. There were days and times when she was aware, she called both my brother and I to ask what she should do now that she was alone. Hobbies? Outings? Trips? There were also times when she tried to pretend all was fine and she was doing well. Maybe she was protecting us?

A few months before my wedding in 2006 things came to a head and we realized something was really wrong and this wasn't normal "mom" stuff. She called me one night to tell me that she had picked out her dress for the wedding and to let me know the color. However, what she told me was "The adults have finished having breakfast and now the kids can come eat." I was completely confused. Thinking I must have heard her wrong, I asked to repeat what she said. She said the same thing. I asked her again and she repeated it very slowly and all I could think of was go as slow as you want I'm still not gonna get it.

After explaining the odd call to my husband, Scott, we called my brother Shawn to discuss. Somehow Shawn was able to talk mom into giving us medical proxy, so we could talk and work with her doctors. After several tests, she was diagnosed with mid to late stage Alzheimer's. Apparently, she had become adept at hiding her condition from us.  After a few events which included a $200 cab ride and disappearing on a trip for seniors it was deemed she couldn't live alone anymore.

We found an assisted living facility that both my brother and I loved. We arranged for mom to get a tour and speak to the head of the facility about possibly moving in. Mom loved it and when we left she was soooo excited to be moving. She even told all her friends that she was leaving. However, moving day turned out to be completely different.

Everyone else had to work, so I helped mom pack a few boxes and took her over to her new home. She was happy and excited. When we got there she told the head of the facility that she wanted to be there and was looking forward to it. After the paperwork and a visit with the facility's medical department to go over her medicine regime we were unpacking in her new room. She began to get ancy and said she wanted to unpack later. She told me she was hungry, so we went downstairs where they distracted mom by getting her a snack and then got her involved in an activity. They said it might be easier if I left while she was distracted.

An hour later I received a phone call that she had tried to leave the building three times to go home. Since they are an assisted living facility and the folks who live there want to be there, they are not equipped to be chasing escapees. Never thought my mom would be trying to make a break for it. I had visions of Steve McQueen going over the wall. So I came back and had a discussion with the head of the facility. It seemed that the best option would be to have mom taken to the hospital for an evaluation, if it was determined that she couldn't live alone, or in an assisted facility the hospital would place her. It was one of the hardest decisions I ever had to make, but I knew something had to be done because this assisted living facility was the only one Shawn and I could find that would take an Alzheimer's patient with no insurance. We were out of ideas.

The paramedics insisted on putter her on a stretcher and taking her out to the ambulance through the front door. This took her past the dining room where dinner was being held. Everyone turned to look--not that I could blame them. Like mom I use humor when stressed, so I turned to the room and said "This ends the floor show portion of the evening." and just kept going. The folks at the facility gave me directions--which included the phrase “you can't miss it” (which anyone who has been on a run with me knows I will in fact miss it and will become lost). Apparently, I would come to an intersection and I’m to make a right, afterwards I will follow the bend in the road until I see the large Jesus statue marking the hospital entrance.

Of course once alone in the car, I began to cry as I drove (always a good combo). When I came around the aforementioned bend in the road I yelled, “JESUS!!” at the top of my lungs. For there on my left was the little brother of the Jesus statue in Brazil. This thing was huge and had a bright spotlight pointed right at. You would have to be blind to miss statue. Now, I grew up in a very religious household so it was a very comforting sight. It also meant I didn't get lost. Miracle!

To make a long story short, the hospital placed mom in a facility where she resided until we were able to find her a much better place in Montrose, NY. Thanks to Natalie, my brother’s sister-in-law and a nursing assistant. She lived in Montrose until her death in February, 2012.

I still miss her and every now and then I catch myself using one of her expressions or mannerisms. It both frightens and pleases me. I have also caught myself crying on a couple of training runs. However, one thing is definite--I love my mom!