The Long Walk Back

The photo is really hard to see. Sorry. It’s me walking with my mom. On the surface a photo of me walking with my mom wouldn’t be a big deal. This one is. You see, last May 5th my mom had what the surgeon described as a “lethal” stroke. The only reason she survived was because she was in the hospital recovering from open heart surgery.

At that point, the morning after, no one knew anything. She could barely move her left hand. Her speech was gone. The prognosis was not very optimistic. The past 9 months have been a classic story of hope, struggle, frustration, and ultimately the miracle of the strength of personal will in the face of near complete devastation.

A little background. My mom was a very good high school track athlete. But, in those days, there wasn’t anywhere for a women of modest means to go beyond high school to pursue athletics. So, she married, had children, worked for nearly 50 years, and retired. She then, at 65 years-old, returned to athletics. She found race-walking, trained hard, qualified 5 times for the Senior Olympics, and missed setting a new Illinois state record in her age group at 1,500 meters by 1 second.

I should also say that she did NOT get the “penguin” philosophy at all. The idea that you would enjoy a race no matter what didn’t make sense to her. Her life approach was that you either did all you could to win. And if you didn’t win, you failed. It wasn’t always pleasant to be in the eye of that storm.

When she had the stroke, we took the approach that she was an athlete with a brain injury. The medical system wanted to treat her like an 81 woman. Their goal was getting her home to watch the soap operas in her wheel chair. OUR goal was getting her back out on the track competing. THEY said she had made all the progress she would make last August. WE said they didn’t know Roselyn Bingham.

I have been lucky enough to participate in much of her physical therapy. The professionals have done a great job of doing what they know how to do and her progress has surprised everyone. But the lesson for them, for me, and for us, is that NO ONE knows what our potential is. No one.

I have watched my mom learn to control her right leg. I’ve watched her overcome debilitating frustration. It’s been slow improvements. It’s been painful advances. It’s been heart-wrenching to watch. But it has also been the greatest gift I could have been given.

We still don’t know what the future holds. But, I know that whatever IS possible for her, she will achieve it. She will drive herself – a good thing – and everyone around her – not always a good thing – until there is no further to go.

One thing for sure. Wherever that is, I’ll be there walking with her.

Waddle on,

John “the Penguin” Bingham, Competitor Magazine columnist Author, The Courage to Start, No Need for Speed, Marathoning for Mortals and Running for Mortals.

Have a question for John? E-mail it to thepenguin@johnbingham.com.

“The miracle isn’t that I finished.

The miracle is that I had the courage to start”