I Have My Reasons with H. John Oechsle

I recently received the below story of a software tech CEO who is in Honolulu this week for the marathon. It's a powerful account of individual strength and will—and definitely worth a read!

From H. John Oechsle, CEO and President of Swiftpage and runner in this weekend's Honolulu Marathon:

A colleague of mine asked me the other day what I was doing this weekend. I quickly replied, “I’m doing one of my long runs.” “What?” this individual exclaimed. “I’m training for a Marathon and this weekend is one of my long training runs,” I stated. “Why are you running a Marathon?” they asked. As I thought about my answer, it all began to come back to me . . .

I awoke on Sunday morning in November 1992 as I did every morning with my head in a fog from the sleeping pills I had taken the night before. As I struggled to swing my feet over the side of the bed, I began to take an inventory of what was wrong with my body today. My feet were completely numb except for the constant pins and needles. My ankles, knees and hips ached. The pain in my groin was so severe that whether I stood, sat or was lying down I could not get comfortable. The pain and cramps in my stomach were present as usual from the medication burning a hole in my stomach lining. The joints in my jaw hurt so bad that I could barely open my mouth.

I struggled to my feet and looked at myself in the mirror. I did not have a follicle of hair from the top of my head to the tips of my toes. My skin had turned yellow and the usual dark circles were present around my eyes. Yes, it was a typical morning. I was in the sixth cycle of chemotherapy. Eight months prior I had been diagnosed with stage 3A Hodgkins Disease.

It was Sunday morning and, as usual, I enlisted the assistance of my wife to help me achieve one of the two big goals for the day—making it down the stairs and to the couch in the family room. The other, of course, was to make it back up the stairs to go to bed.

As I lay on the couch watching television, I began to think that I was not going to make it. I thought I was going to succumb to what the doctors told me eight months ago, that I had less than a 30 percent chance of surviving. They told me the chemo was doing its job, but the pain and the side effects were getting the best of me. I was getting to the point where I wanted to give up and I just wanted to die.

I had been an athlete most of my life, playing football all the way up through college. Throughout that entire period of my life, the one thing I could always count on was my body. I had asked it to do some pretty amazing things for me over the years, and it had always responded. In fact, it had done things that I never would have thought I was capable of doing. Now I could not accomplish a simple task like going up a flight of stairs without assistance. My body was letting me down and no matter how many times I asked it to try, there was no response. Things were looking pretty grim.

For the first time in eight months, I began to plan for my death. In my head I was going over key items. Was the life insurance in place? Was my Will up to date? I began to make deals with myself in my mind. I began to break my life into hour by hour slots telling myself if I can make it to 9:00 AM I’ll be okay. When 9:00 AM came, I would say if I can make it to 10:00 AM I’ll be okay. Like I said, things were looking pretty grim.

During the hour, I would flick through the channels on television. As I did, I came across the broadcast of the New York City Marathon. As I watched the runners, I felt an intense feeling deep within me. In my mind, I began to say to myself, “I’m not going to die. I’m going to beat this thing called cancer, and when I do my body is going to take me through one of the ultimate physical tests. I’m going to run the New York City Marathon.”

Well, I did beat cancer, and I started the year 1993 with the slogan: “Cancer Free in 93”. The first year was a struggle with a couple of close calls with reoccurrences, but I managed to pull through. I did not lose sight of the promise I had made to myself back in November of 1992 and I slowly began to get my body back into shape. The combination of the cancer and the chemotherapy had taken their toll on me.

It took me four years to get to a point where I thought I was ready to train for the marathon. In November 1997, my good friend Pete and I along with thirty thousand other people, stood at the foot of the Verrazano Bridge. Five hours and twenty minutes later, with tears of joy in our eyes, we crossed the finish line in Central Park, keeping the promise I had made five years prior. My body, although slower than I had asked it, had come through for me once again. It was a life changing experience, and on that day I vowed to celebrate every five years of being cancer free by running a marathon

Since then, I have run the 2003 New York City Marathon to celebrate 10 years of being cancer free and my wife and I ran the 2008 Disney Marathon to celebrate 15 years of being cancer free. In 2013, our oldest daughter Britney and I ran the San Diego Rock “n” Roll marathon to celebrate 20 years of being cancer free. I joke with everyone now that the reason I run the marathon every five years is because it takes me a year to train and four years to recover!

I have set my sites on the Honolulu Marathon in December 2018 to celebrate being cancer free for 25 years. With the slogan “Cancer Free Since 93,” running beside our second to oldest daughter, Mallory, and with the support of friends and family, I will once again cross the finish line, look cancer in the eye and say, “You messed with the wrong person!”

As I contemplate the answer to the question my colleague asked of “Why?” I realize that I need to continue to ensure that I have control over my body and I can count on it to do whatever I ask it to do. The one thing I hope I never have to ask it to do again is to do battle with cancer. But, if the day comes where I do have to, both my body and I will be ready. . .

“Why are you running a marathon?” they asked. I take a deep breath and a huge smile comes over my face as I say, “I have my reasons.”