Some things are more important than sports

I'd like to use my blog to publish a very moving account of the Marathon Olympic Trials this past Saturday. My brother-in-law Eric Post was in the race and witnessed the tragic death of fellow competitor Ryan Shay. I can definitely relate as I witnessed a friend die during a pick-up game of basketball just a few years ago. Like Shay, my friend Brad Becker was only in his twenties.

Eric Post:

It is an image that I hope stays with me forever – Ryan Shay, lying face down on the
asphalt, arms at his side.

As morbid as this may sound, I mean it in the least-morbid way.

The cliche that anything can be taken from us in an instant went from being simply a line that I had heard a thousand times to being as real as the race I was currently running.

We were just a touch over five miles into a twenty-six plus mile event when I saw a runner down on the asphalt. I could tell it was a Saucony-sponsored runner by the singlet and shorts. At first I thought it was another Saucony-sponsored runner whom I had run against in high school and college.

Man, he must have been tripped from behind and hit his head on the pavement on the
downhill, I thought.

What else could it have been? We had barely begun running. Five miles into the marathon – with the first few miles at a crawl – our bodies were just beginning to warm up, let alone be stressed.

No blood. That’s weird. How could someone fall on the asphalt, hit their head and not be bleeding?

That’s when I knew it was something far worse. Heart. Lungs. Something serious...real
serious.

The focus in a marathon is so intense that I didn’t think anything more about it for the remaining twenty-odd miles. Soon after crossing the line I saw Jacob Frey, the runner who I thought had fallen earlier in the race. Then I was really confused.

Didn’t he...wait...how did he finish ahead...

I guess the marathon does put your mind in a bit of a fog.

After a couple of minutes I saw a colleague and she said quietly, “Did you hear someone died?”

Holy shit.

Saucony does not sponsor too many athletes, so the list of people it could have been was small.

A short time later I ran into a college teammate, Mike Smith, and I asked him if he knew what happened. He said, “Dude, Ryan Shay is dead. He died, man.” Mike’s eyes were visibly red and watery. Ryan Shay had been living in Flagstaff, Arizona, where Mike currently lived.

I recalled riding in the elevator that morning with Mike and Shay. I thought about how Shay seemed very upbeat and in a good mood, ready to have a good day – like all of us. As we went into Rockefeller Center prior to the race, Mike, Shay and I put our belongings three in a row along one of the pillars on the bottom level of the building.

He had no idea he was going to die in less than two hours.

I cannot help but repeat the above statement in my mind.

I have never been so close to someone near death before. Not close from a relationship perspective – I had never spoken to Shay before – but close from a literal perspective.

The eeriness, the sadness, the reality is something that has rocked me to the core. Could I have died Saturday? Could I die today? Tomorrow?

Essentially, Ryan and I are one in the same. We were both born in 1979, both married, both ran collegiately, both qualified for the Trials, both fit and ready to run fast.

So, why him? Was it the enlarged heart? Maybe, maybe not. The preliminary autopsy
proved inconclusive. Either way, he had been cleared to run by a variety of doctors –
doctors who know running. We trust doctors. But, who ultimately can we trust?

I recall that as the start of the race approached on Saturday I was unintentionally praying the Our Father while listening to my iPod. You would think that if a song was playing in your headphones you would be reciting the lyrics. But, faith shines through when emotions are at an ultimate high – before a major competition, at a wedding, a funeral. We draw on faith when we know we need the help of someone much bigger than ourselves to get through a difficult or life changing time.

A good friend could tell that the events of Saturday were weighing on me. He asked, “Is this going to make you not want to run?” I didn’t have an answer. I fear what could happen if I repeatedly give the kind of effort that competitive distance running requires. Is it the repeated effort that ended Shay’s life?

Now, being a few days removed from the race, I have gained a new perspective on life and running. As a catholic, I know that God has a plan for me, my family and my friends. If I continue to put my faith in God and live everyday in an honest and faithful way, I will find comfort in knowing that whatever happens will happen for a reason. Perhaps we will struggle to find the “why” in life’s events, but in time we will know.

What I can say as I think back to that morning and look back at the pictures of Ryan Shay the morning of the race, is that we truly never know when it is our time to leave this world and we must be ready because I can unequivocally say that he had no idea that at 8:46 on Saturday, November 3rd, he would collapse and pass away doing something that he was undoubtedly trained to do.

From this day forward, I will think of Ryan Shay – even if it’s for just a split second – on every run, every workout, and every race and ask God to safely get me through what lies ahead.

I want that image of Ryan Shay to serve as my reminder to appreciate life, to be thankful for the people in my life and to never take for granted the gifts that God has given me.