Amy Lu's View

My race Bib says that I’m running for “My dad” but I really ran the Foxtrot Half Marathon for me. 

I ran for 10-year-old Amy whose family learned, after weeks and weeks of time at Marshfield Clinic, that dad had Parkinson’s. Um, okay, whatever that is…so he’s going to move more slowly? That doesn’t sound so bad. Are we going to be going to Marshfield less often? Definitely won’t miss hospital visits, but the mall in Marshfield is way cool and has the best Empire Strikes Back cards. 

(And my dad was only FIFTY when he was diagnosed with Parkinson’s–super early, and younger than I am now, #HolyShit. And who knows how long he had it before being diagnosed?)

I ran for high school Amy who was completely freaked out when dad totally froze at Hardees, as in he literally could not move or get out of the booth, so we had to call an ambulance. But dad and I sat in the booth and casually chatted while mom took care of things because that’s what we did. 

I ran for Amy at all ages who thought it was pretty damn funny (even though I felt guilty about it) when my brother did an excellent impersonation of my dad’s jerky movements (caused by meds and not actually Parkinson’s, I think. And to be fair, my brother did an excellent job of making fun of all of the family). 

I ran for 23-year-old Amy who was terrified that dad was going to fall when my parents came to visit me when I had moved to Cedar Rapids and I was showing them the mall where I worked and it was the first time I saw dad really not be able to walk. 

I ran for Amy in her late twenties who worried about how mom and dad were going to survive living out in the middle of nowhere with dad’s Parkinsons getting worse. 

I ran for 30-year-old Amy who was so grateful (and amused) that my brother was able to pull my dad up by his suspenders when he started sliding down out of the pew at mom’s funeral. 

I ran for 30-year-old Amy constantly stressed and wracked with guilt that dad was going to fall at home all alone now that mom was dead and he was living out in the middle of nowhere all by himself.  

I ran for Amy in her early 30’s learning that her dad had hallucinations caused by his Parkinson’s meds that made him experience a whole plethora of things including the dog talking to him. 

Of course, I just centered myself in my dad’s story of life with Parkinson’s. Besides these moments I specifically remember (or think I remember, I make no claims of accuracy) I wonder how much my dad’s having Parkinson’s through much of my childhood shaped me. Is it one of the reasons I’m so anxious? 

I know it affected my mother and significantly contributed to her stress. I’m guessing it affected my brother and sister, and my niece, Kate, too, but #NotMyStory. (I’m also running for my current friends who have Parkinson’s but I don’t feel it’s my right to name them). 

My family didn’t try to keep my dad’s Parkinson’s a secret–in fact, we probably talked about it too much. We definitely adopted my mom’s “radical honesty” approach: Our dad has Parkinson’s, we live in a shack, mom and dad can’t stand each other, etc. etc. (editing here for and not delving into the “etc.” out of respect for other family members. Let’s just say mom was NOT reticent about telling the world about family problems. I would relish telling you about those problems in person/via Zoom, etc). 

BUT, I’m not sure that how we talked about my dad’s Parkinson’s was very helpful. I also don’t know what we could have done differently. In the eighties and nineties, we didn’t have the interwebs to learn about diseases like Parkinson’s. We didn’t have support groups (real or virtual) and probably wouldn’t have participated even if we could. We didn’t think about diet or physical therapy. We got through the best we could, and I don’t fault us for that. 

So I’m super grateful for everyone who has contributed money to my fundraiser to support research to end Parkinson’s. Because it sucks, not only for the person who has it but all of their loved ones and/or family members (which may not be the same). 

And I ran for Amy Today, grateful I had a good reason to do a virtual Half Marathon that let me channel my narcissism in a positive way. So yeah, now it’s time for Running Talk: I was super stressed about this run, mainly because I’ve been having blister issues. I probably should NOT have done this run because now I’m going to continue to battle blisters for days/weeks but it wasn’t too uncomfortable during the run. 

My biggest issue during the run was an extremely runny nose. Sorry, not something you probably want to read about but the truth. My constantly running nose is also nostalgic as I think about my brother saying he has never NOT seen me without a kleenex. 

My ego is definitely taking a hit because this was probably my worst Half Marathon ever as far as time goes, but it also wasn’t as bad as I feared it could be. I haven’t really trained and blister, see above. 

I am proud that I creatively dealt with a wardrobe issue. Per usual, I underestimated how hot I was going to get and two miles in wanted to ditch my arm warmers. But, of course, that is environmentally sucky and I like these arms warmer. So, I TIED THEM INTO MY BUN! And they stayed there for the entire 11 subsequent miles and looked festive!

And the run was ridiculously beautiful. So green. And I’m  still amazed by those flowering purple and pink and white trees we didn’t have on the tundra where I grew up. 

I miss my dad. More than I thought I ever would (he died in 2013). But I’m relieved I don’t have to worry about him anymore, and that my biggest Parkinson’s related concerns these days are blisters.