“Never underestimate the impact that your mere existence can have on another human being.” –Fred Rogers

Last weekend, a volunteer-led team pulled off the 8th Annual San Diego Half Marathon & Padres 5K. I have been privileged enough to be a part of this team since the beginning and have been reflecting back on how much has happened in the last eight years. Of course there was my divorce, but also the too-soon deaths of parents and other loved ones, serious health diagnoses and treatments, babies born, kids growing up, careers shifting, moves across the country and back, and more. Eight years of triumphs, heartbreaks, pain, joy, suffering, and celebration. Eight years of life happening and stories being written.

And our team’s stories aren’t the only ones that touch me profoundly. During registration for the event, people have the option of sharing why they run and the reasons we get back are beautiful and messy and raw. Our team member, Patti, sifts through the stories one by one each year, writing personalized cards to many of them. She writes to those who are running to honor people they’ve lost, or who have survived a health scare of their own. She writes to grieving parents who have lost children, cancer survivors, and kidney transplant patients. There are birthdays, engagements, and anniversaries she helps celebrate with cupcakes. And before and after each race, she shares a few of the stories with our team. Here’s one I had to share…

Two friends pushed their third friend in a (running) wheelchair in our 5K event. The wheelchair-bound friend had suffered four cardiac arrests and a massive pulmonary/cerebral embolism in 2017, and his friends and family were told that if he survived, it would be unlikely that he would have any meaningful neurological recovery. He is working hard to gain back his mobility and more. When his friends pushed him across the finish line, he couldn’t verbalize what he felt, but Patti greeted him to “twinkling eyes and a little crooked smile,” and he even said her name. She had written him a card to let him know what an inspiration he is to our team, and his friends had delivered the message.

When I read Patti’s email, something inside me burst open. Maybe it was the courage of the man who let his story be shared. Maybe it was the dedication, love, and loyalty of his two friends who pushed him 3.1 miles to let him experience life in a new way in his current reality. And undoubtedly, there was an immense sense of gratitude for the opportunity to be part of something that touches so many lives.

Regardless of the why, it reminded me how important it is to share our stories. You never know who it will touch. You never know who it could help heal.

Don’t underestimate the power of your voice when it’s laced with vulnerability.

So if you’re wondering if you should…you should. Show up, tell your truth, and see how it changes the world.

[Photo: Patti kneeling down next to Denny (in the wheelchair) and his friends Dale and Bob after they crossed the finish line.]