A young man hoping to fix his flaws
A Comeback Story
Last Sunday, I ran in Yad Leah’s Dash for Dignity 5K charity run. The organization provides clothing to Israeli families in need. The community-wide event featured families and dogs of all ages. It also had music, raffles and two hype guys. But for me, the race meant something more. It marked my first race in eight years.
During March of 2017, I improperly trained for the Jerusalem Marathon and contracted plantar fasciitis, a foot condition known to affect runners and the older adult population. Primary symptoms of this condition include sharp pain in one’s heel while walking or standing. The pain can be felt on your first step out of bed in the morning. Most people contract this condition for a few weeks or months and it eventually goes away with time, whereas others get this condition for years on end. I was part of the latter group.
Over the last eight years, I have purchased various pairs of custom orthotics and gone for treatment and physical therapy. I have seen pain management and sports medicine doctors. When my condition persisted I also went for acupuncture. And most important of all, I asked Hashem, the ultimate medical professional, for help. After seven years of treatment and prayers, I decided to give running another go last March. It took a few weeks to reacquaint my body with this demanding activity. My pace fell minutes behind my 20-year-old self. But my spirit was higher than ever.
Moments before Sunday’s race began, adrenaline pumped through my veins. A family friend of mine named Yossi Rubin ran the New York City Marathon and relayed a similar pre-race feeling. Once the race announcer said, “Go,” I nearly jumped out of my shoes running at full speed along the grass. Like a deer galloping in the fresh meadows. The sounds of nature and views of fall filled my eyes and ears. A close friend of mine and former Israeli soldier named Max told me last week, “My commander from the army would always tell us that running with music—zeh chalash—is weak. So I ran music-free. But boy, do I wish I had some for the last mile.
Moments away from the finish line, the announcers called my number. I may not have won the race, but I finished. Ricky Bobby may have famously said, “If you ain’t first, you’re last.” But sometimes, even when you’re last it can feel like you’re first.
After crossing the finish line, I dropped to my knees and, well, got sick, in front of my father, George; good friend Noam Montag; and everyone else at Yad Leah. My heart rate and breathing remained sky high. Hatzalah arrived to offer help and support. Before the race I thought, “Why does there need to be Hatzalah? It’s just a three-mile race.” Then I was the one who needed it.
Following 20 minutes of sitting and drinking with the aid of Esther Katz, I recovered. Suddenly in that moment, tears began to rush down my eyes. It had been eight years since my last race. It had been eight years of appointments and waiting, eight years since I crossed the finish line. And finally, I had the chance once again to cross the finish line in front of my father, in front of my close friend. What could be more special than that?
Some of the most meaningful moments in life can happen, and we forget about them the next day or week or month. I wanted to share this story so that I won’t forget that moment. Not getting sick or Hatzalah, but the tears of joy, the joy of knowing I had finally made a comeback.
No matter what your doctor, physical therapist or family and friends say, always ask Hashem to be healed. No matter the condition or diagnosis, with God in our corner, there’s always a chance.
