By Staff
Niles, a small town in southwestern Michigan, just north of the Indiana state line.
This was the gist of the research I did when I first heard of the managing editor position at the Daily Star.
Now, two months and a near-sleepless move from North Carolina later, I am finding that coming here has been one of the best decisions I have made.
The people are friendly, the area is beautiful and dynamic and the job is proving to be challenging – just the type of thing I was looking for.
Now, this piece isn't going to be about my impressions of the greater Niles area. Y'all are from here, I'm not. However, I am going to talk about a great experience that I had over the weekend.
Up in Dowagiac each year – for the last 32 years – an event meant to honor Steven Briegel, a 1988 Southwestern Michigan College graduate who lost the battle with cancer in 1990, is held.
Steve's Run, the 5K/10K race in his name, kicked off on Front Street at 9 Saturday morning.
More than 1,200 runners and walkers filled the downtown, and once the starting bells rang all that could be seen for a quarter-mile was a moving sea of people.
Having a friend who is a cancer survivor has made me more aware of events such as this, and hearing about the enthusiasm that goes into the planning of this annual event prompted me to dust off my running shoes and step up to the challenge.
To be totally honest, I haven't ran a 5K in nigh on 10 years.
Therefore, I didn't know what to expect as to my performance. As runner number 281, I set my goal to simply finish the race.
Everyone who was there ran or walked for their own reasons.
Some were obviously experienced, competitive runners, and this race was one more on the competitive running circuit.
Others wanted to challenge themselves to see if they could finish what turned out to be a rather grueling run – I partially fell into this camp.
What was most touching, though, was to see those runners and walkers who were pounding the pavement and slipping through the grass in honor of Steve and all those who have fought and lost the battle with cancer.
Midway through the 5K course, after swimming through the suffocating humidity on the golf course and climbing a hill that felt much steeper than it actually was, the running path brought us through the town cemetery.
By this point in the run, the conditions of the course had, so to speak, separated the wheat from the chaff, stretching the undulating mob into a widely-spaced string of runners more than two miles long.
This is the first run that has taken me through quiet headstones on monuments of a place of eternal rest. The relative quiet I found on the top of this hill, coupled with the Fire Up signs placed as encouragement to runners made this race more than just a physical challenge. It became, for me, a moment of quiet contemplation.
I managed to make it through the run, even though meeting the 10K runners on the downhill leg just before the finish line let me know there were runners there that were much better than myself.
Frankly, I was happy to finish the run and finish it in less time than I expected. I picked up my T-shirt, had some of the complementary drinks and watermelon provided, cheered on the runners still finishing and simply wandered into the crowd to meet the other runners and walkers.
However, one thing that stuck through me the entire weekend was that quiet moment on top of the hill. I realized the throbbing I felt in my legs was nothing compared to the pain felt by those battling cancer.
The momentary pride I allowed myself for making it through the run was dismissed by the humbling thought that I can still do what so many – too many – cannot do anymore.
Until a cure is found, I would hope that there are more such events like this, and that more of the people taking part are touched in the way that this run touched me. The battle against cancer may not be won for some time, but it is a battle in which we can all take part.
I'll see everyone next year at Steve's Run.