Taylor’s Story Featured in Friday FITspiration Series

Published: August 23, 2013 ~ 0

By Laura Edwards

Head over to www.runladylike.com, where Jesica – an ordinary runner on a mission to find her extraordinary – shares her “uncensored and often unladylike adventures of running and triathlon training.” Today, she featured Taylor’s incredible story of courage and my plan to run a half marathon blindfolded in her honor on her “Friday FITspiration” series.

I’m grateful to Jesica for sharing our story in such a beautiful way. I’m grateful we connected, and I can’t wait to continue following her running adventures. Later today, she’ll start a journey of her own as she takes part in the famous Hood to Coast race in Oregon, a state that enchanted me with its beauty when I visited it during the week of Taylor’s surgery 11 months before that first 5K in 2008. Best of luck to Jesica, and happy trails to all of my running readers! Don’t forget, you can join the Taylor’s Tale team at Thunder Road on Nov. 16. We’d love to have you!

Read the story

My Birthday Wish for Taylor

Published: August 18, 2013 ~ 3

By Laura Edwards

My sister, Taylor, will turn 15 on Monday. Taylor’s less than half my age, but she’s my hero. She’s done some pretty incredible things in her short life – like run two 5K races despite the fact that she’s blind and suffers from Batten disease, which is pretty much the worst disease on the face of the earth. That’s why, in three months, I’ll run Charlotte’s Thunder Road Half Marathon blindfolded to honor her and help find a treatment for Batten disease.

I’ve had the same birthday wish for Taylor every year since her diagnosis in 2006. I want a world where people like my sister can dream of growing old. I believe in that world. Tomorrow, in honor of my sister’s birthday, you can do one of three things to help Taylor’s Tale achieve that dream:

Sign up to run for Taylor at Thunder Road on Saturday, Nov. 16, and help us turn the course purple for Taylor’s Tale. You can run the marathon, half marathon or 5K. Note: blindfold not required. 🙂 Be sure to join our team during the registration process. On the second page of registration, under “Event Groups/Teams, select “Taylor’s Tale” from the list under “Choose an Existing Group.” Run for us to honor Taylor and help raise awareness of Batten disease on race day. In return, you’ll receive a moisture-wicking team shirt and an invitation to an optional post-race get-together. Stay tuned for more details! Click here to register now.

Make a gift to Taylor’s Tale in honor of Taylor’s birthday and help support our fight against Batten disease and other rare and genetic diseases. All donations are 100 percent tax-deductible. We fund research that has the potential to lead to treatments for human beings. We’ve supported work at top institutions in the United States and Europe. Today, we’re co-funding work at the University of North Carolina that could lead to life-saving gene therapy for Batten disease and many other genetic diseases. To make a donation, click here.

Run 3.1 miles – or a 5K – for Taylor on her birthday, Aug. 19. Visit our Facebook page and share a post about your run. Be creative – share a photo or a description of your run, or just tell us that you did it! You can also connect with us on Twitter. Share your run with us on Facebook and Twitter.

Thank you for helping us write the happy ending to Taylor’s Tale!

Blood, Sweat, No Tears

Published: August 16, 2013 ~ 4

By Laura Edwards

When I set my sights on running a half marathon blindfolded to honor my little sister and support the fight against Batten disease, most people called me dedicated. Some people called me crazy.

My friend and sighted guide, Andrew, talked to fellow runners before we began training together in early June. Friends told him to be prepared for falls. It’s not easy for someone with two functioning eyes to learn to function as a blind person, and it’s even harder for a sighted person in a blindfold to learn to run at a fast clip while tethered to another person.

But through seven training runs, I didn’t fall. In fact, after a few shaky minutes on a middle school track near our neighborhood, we learned to navigate speed bumps, hills, 90-degree turns, cul-de-sacs, parked cars and cars with drivers behind the wheel. I twisted my left ankle the first night when I got a little cocky and tried to jump a curb, but I kept my balance, and I kept on running.

So that track record over the course of seven runs pretty much makes me the master of the blindfolded running universe, right?

WRONG.

A few minutes into our run last night – our first in three weeks after my sports medicine doctor mandated time off for my still-ailing left ankle – the high-cushioned Brooks shoe on my right foot caught a sliver of asphalt on the side of the road that sat a centimeter higher than the curb. My good ankle went right, then left, then right again. In my world of darkness, I felt my ankle go but didn’t have any idea what sat in my path. My body crashed into the black void in front of me as my ankle gave out. I didn’t have time to rip off the blindfold, so instinct took over, and I threw out my right hand – the hand on the side of the curb that took my ankle.

A millisecond later, Andrew helped me up from my sprawled position on the side of the dark street. I still had the blindfold on, but I already felt warm blood trickling down my left knee, and my right palm burned.

I had a gaping hole in my left knee where skin used to be. I scraped up my right knee, too. My right wrist hurt from breaking my fall. The blood trickled down my left leg, almost to my shoe. I yanked my blindfold the rest of the way over my ponytail and made a makeshift tourniquet. But I didn’t tie it over the wound; instead, I tied it around my ankle to protect my shoe. Brooks Glycerins cost $150, and mine only have 100 miles on them! Andrew got a good laugh out of that as he helped me back to my house, where I washed the asphalt out of my wound and…got a fresh blindfold.

We ran close to 0.3 miles before my fall. After I cleaned up, we ran another 2.8 for a total of 3.1, or a 5K. When Andrew delivered me back to my house for the second time, I remembered how, when Taylor ran her first 5K race in 2008, she fell and scraped up her knees, but when her running buddy asked her if she wanted to pull out, she said no, she wanted to cross that finish line. And that’s what she did.

I already had a broken body when I started this gig. I might have a few more broken pieces before I get through. But I’ll cross that finish line on Nov. 16 for my sister.

I will run the Thunder Road Half Marathon blindfolded to support gene therapy co-funded by Taylor’s Tale at the University of North Carolina Gene Therapy Center. Donations to this cause are 100 percent tax-deductible. To support my run and our fight to develop treatments for Batten disease and other genetic diseases, click here.

Join the Taylor’s Tale team at Thunder Road! Click here to register for the marathon, half marathon or 5K. On the second page of registration, under “Event Groups/Teams,” select “Taylor’s Tale” from the list under “Choose an Existing Group.” Run for us to help raise awareness on race day. Stay tuned for more details, including special shirts for team members and an informal post-race event!

Carrying the Torch

Published: August 7, 2013 ~ 0

By Laura Edwards

I’m past the halfway point of the two-week rehab period prescribed by my sports medicine doctor, and I’m ready to get back on the road for Taylor. I don’t have any swelling in my sprained ankle, and the pain is much better this week than last. I’ve practiced the art of icing with a frozen cup of water; I kick off my shoes to do this at the office at least once a day, so I’m grateful for understanding coworkers. Barring any new setbacks, I should be back in a blindfold by sometime next week, just in time for the three-month countdown to Thunder Road.

Meanwhile, my mom’s carrying the torch for both of us. I thought I’d be able to publish a new post for each of her training sessions, but I’d never sleep. By my count, Mom’s made it to the track or the treadmill three times since her coach went down last week. She even went to Run For Your Life and bought new running shoes! Last night, I joined her at the Y near our house and lifted weights while she ran laps. Once, I crept to the corner of the stretching area with my phone and hid behind a weight machine until she came down the straightaway. I jumped out just in time to capture a photo of her. Mom didn’t stop, but the next time she came around, she tried to sneak a peek at my camera roll and get me to agree to approval rights.

Mom will be ready for Nov. 16, and so will I. You can join us and help save kids like Taylor. Just visit the Thunder Road website to sign up for the 5K, half marathon or marathon. If you run for the Taylor’s Tale team (available in the list of groups/teams), we’ll provide a moisture-wicking shirt and a fun post-race get-together. More details to come! In the meantime, please consider supporting our cause with a donation (see how below). All gifts are 100 percent tax-deductible and will support gene therapy at the University of North Carolina.

See you on the road…soon!

Someone has to Run for T

Published: July 30, 2013 ~ 2

By Laura Edwards

I run races year-round. Twenty years on the soccer field did a lot of damage, and I deal with injuries all the time. But on Nov. 16, I’ll run the most important race of my life, and I’m not taking any chances. Early that morning, I’ll pull a blindfold over my eyes and honor the five-year anniversary of my little sister’s first 5K at Charlotte’s Thunder Road Half Marathon. So this morning – the start of my third day with an obvious limp – I took my balky ankle to see my sports medicine doctor for an exam and X-rays.

The good news is that I don’t have any broken bones, and the weird stuff my doctor saw was already there on an X-ray from 2010 (which doesn’t say much for my long-term joint health but bodes well, I suppose, for THIS race). I went home with a prescription for two weeks’ off from weight-bearing activities, running included, and frequent icing.

I’m one of the world’s worst patients, because I can’t stand to sit still. But this time, I’ll listen. I’m on a mission, and I won’t do anything to threaten it.

After my appointment, I sent a message to my mom, who has never run a race of any distance but will run the Thunder Road 5K for Taylor’s Tale. I promised to coach her to her goal of running 3.1 miles this fall, and in my message, I offered to meet her at the indoor track tonight to lift weights and provide instruction from the sideline.

Nine minutes later, she responded:

“On the treadmill right now. Someone has to run for T!”

Mom on treadmill

What does a go-getter like my mom need with a gimpy coach like me, anyway? Sans instruction, Mom logged 30 minutes on the treadmill, alternating two minutes of walking with three minutes of running at 5.2 miles per hour. One week ago tonight, Mom ran for the first time; as she took her first strides, she told me she didn’t know if she could run 3.1 miles without stopping. When she hits the open road on race day and breathes in the clear, cool November air, she won’t remember saying those words.

Besides, she didn’t really mean them. Because she’s my mom. And my mom ALWAYS believes.

I believe, too. I believe in my mom; I believe that my ankle will heal; I believe in Taylor’s courage; I believe that we can achieve our dream.

You can join my mom, my sighted guide and me on the Taylor’s Tale team at the Thunder Road races on Nov. 16. Scroll down to learn how, and stay tuned for more details!

I will run the Thunder Road Half Marathon blindfolded to support gene therapy co-funded by Taylor’s Tale at the University of North Carolina Gene Therapy Center. Donations to this cause are 100 percent tax-deductible. To support my run and our fight to develop treatments for Batten disease and other genetic diseases, click here.

When to Fold a Hand

Published: July 28, 2013 ~ 0

By Laura Edwards

In case you haven’t heard, I’ll run Charlotte’s Thunder Road Half Marathon blindfolded to honor my sister and support the fight against Batten disease and other rare diseases on Nov. 16. I’m a seasoned runner with a drawer full of half marathon and 10-miler race medals. But I’ve never run a race of any distance without my vision, so my training for this race is unlike anything I’ve ever done before.

I returned from a long weekend in the North Carolina mountains this afternoon and made plans for a late-night run with Andrew Swistak, a good friend and my sighted guide for Thunder Road.

But just an hour after I messaged Andrew, I aggravated the still-weak ankle I injured on our first training run, all the way back on June 5. I don’t have any idea how I hurt it; I felt a sharp pain walking from my back door to my kitchen. In any case, I’ll be brushing up on my R.I.C.E. skills (rest-ice-compression-elevation) right about the time that Andrew and I would have met at my mailbox for blindfolded run number eight.

I’m frustrated about this latest setback, which may end up being nothing more than a one-day punishment – perhaps my body’s gentle way of telling me that I wore the wrong shoes to traipse around downtown Asheville, NC for two days. I’m sorry I won’t squeeze in a practice run tonight but am grateful, really, that logic won out in the end. Because the last thing I need is an injury I can’t overcome.

My sister’s fight against Batten disease has its ups and downs, too. She has good days and bad days. She has a heck of a lot of courage – far more than I’ll ever have – but even so, some days, the disease still gets the best of her. For her sake, we have to know when to fight back with everything we’ve got, and when it makes sense to fold a hand so we don’t lose all our chips in the end.

I might be taking tonight off, but I’ll drag my body – bum ankle and all – back out on the road as soon as I can. And I’ll cross that finish line for Taylor on race day, even if I have to crawl. You’d better believe I’ll fight for my dream – to save the lives of people like her – until we win.

I will run the Thunder Road Half Marathon blindfolded to support gene therapy co-funded by Taylor’s Tale at the University of North Carolina Gene Therapy Center. Donations to this cause are 100 percent tax-deductible. To support my run and our fight to develop treatments for Batten disease and other genetic diseases, click here.

Just a Little Rain

Published: July 25, 2013 ~ 0

By Laura Edwards

Summer always flies after the Independence Day fireworks. August will be here next week, it will be a blur, and autumn will arrive. On Nov. 16, I’ll run Charlotte’s Thunder Road Half Marathon blindfolded to honor the five-year anniversary of my little sister’s first 5K race and support the fight against Batten disease. But I’m not ready to run that race today, which is why, as the last full month of summer drew near, I became concerned that my sighted guide and I last ran together on July 1.

storm quote

But Andrew is as committed to this cause as he is skilled at guiding a sighted person wearing a blindfold on the run. So, despite a steady, warm rain, he climbed up my mountainous driveway at 10 last night, took one end of the three-foot bungee cord that is my lifeline and led me down the hill into my dark, wet world.

We ran approximately 3.1 miles – or a 5K – in the rain. I didn’t take my phone, and I heard a beep that told me my Garmin had died about five minutes after we left, but Andrew told me we averaged about an eight-minute mile or just a little over.

My first six blindfolded runs opened my eyes to a whole new world of sensory experiences. My seventh introduced me to an entirely different one; because I didn’t see the raindrops as they fell from the sky, I felt as if I discovered something new each time one made contact with my skin. I never knew exactly how to describe the way a raindrop feels; I still can’t put it into words, and yet, I understand it on a whole new level.

I would never want to give up my vision. At the end of all of our runs, when Andrew announces that we’ve arrived at my mailbox, I respond by taking off my blindfold. I’ve never tried to say goodbye or climb my driveway or walk inside without my eyes. But a long time ago, Taylor taught me that life is about taking what you have (or don’t have) and making the best of it. It’s about finding beauty in tragedy. It’s about learning to dance (and run) in the rain.

I will run the Thunder Road Half Marathon blindfolded to support gene therapy co-funded by Taylor’s Tale at the University of North Carolina Gene Therapy Center. Donations to this cause are 100 percent tax-deductible. To support my run and our fight to develop treatments for Batten disease and other genetic diseases, click here.

Just the Beginning

Published: July 23, 2013 ~ 2

By Laura Edwards

My mom, Sharon King, has never run a race. But on Nov. 16, she’ll be in the 5K field when thousands of runners fill the streets of uptown Charlotte, NC for the Thunder Road Marathon, Half Marathon and 5K.

My mom can do anything she puts her mind to, whether or not she believes it. She doesn’t need my help. But I agreed to coach her to her first 3.1-mile finish and look forward to spending the next few months “on the road” together even as I work toward my own goal of running the half marathon blindfolded in my little sister’s honor.

Mom running

We hit the indoor track for our first training session tonight. I thought we’d average 12-minute-plus miles, but as soon as I hit the “start” button on my Garmin, Mom took off. I don’t like to do anything halfway, but I come by it honest.

We alternated 0.2-mile jogs with two-lap walks on the 1/12-mile track. Toward the end of our run, Mom picked up speed and sharpened her focus, and I fell back to snap a secret photo of her in stride.

We hung it up after a mile; I know the dangers of overdoing exercise as well as anyone and want to warm Mom’s joints up to the idea of this whole running thing. But while we didn’t break any distance records, we got off to a great start. My mom, the non-runner, averaged a 10:28 mile and would have gone faster had she not had me in her ear telling her to slow down on some laps.

I might be able to convince Mom to take it easy on the track, but in the real fight, there’s no room for that. Tomorrow is the seven-year anniversary of Taylor’s Batten disease diagnosis. We’re not slowing down any time soon, and we’ll never, ever give up for kids like my sister. I can’t tell you what the clock will say when we cross our respective finish lines on Nov. 16, but you can count on us to keep fighting.

The Thunder Road Marathon, Thunder Road Half Marathon and Thunder Road 5K have plenty of room for other Taylor’s Tale supporters. If you’re interested in running to honor Taylor and support Taylor’s Tale, the 501(c)3 non-profit organization we founded to fight Batten disease and other rare diseases, please contact us.

Uneven Ground

Published: July 14, 2013 ~ 0

By Laura Edwards

On Nov. 16, I’ll run the Thunder Road Half Marathon blindfolded to honor my little sister’s fight against Batten disease and raise money for gene therapy at the University of North Carolina. Since early June, I’ve gone on six training runs with my sighted guide, Andrew Swistak, and we made more progress in those first six runs than I ever dreamed possible.

But I haven’t run in darkness since July 1. I’ve been on vacation for a week, and our schedules don’t jive in the coming week. I’ll keep my fitness level; running is part of my life, whether or not I’m training for a race. But I’m not blind, and running without my eyes isn’t like riding a bike without training wheels. It takes practice. So I expect to be a little rusty the next time I pull a blindfold over my eyes and grab hold of my lifeline, a three-foot bungee cord.

I’ve been on the South Carolina coast for the past week, and I laced up my third-string Brooks Glycerin shoes – the ones that have about 800 miles on them – for a couple of runs on the beach. On a late afternoon run at low tide, I thought about my long stretch without any practice runs with Andrew and wondered if I could survive a near-deserted, flat area of the beach with my eyes closed.

I started my experiment on the part of the beach between the powdery dry sand that the waves never reach – ankle-breaking sand – and the damp sand that just hours before had been underwater. I scanned the beach ahead of me for tidal pools and child-dug holes, saw none, said a silent prayer and closed my eyes.

Ten seconds later, the surf filled my tired Brooks shoes. The tide didn’t change; I just veered off course by seven or eight feet in those 10 seconds.

I kept my eyes open the rest of the way.

My self-imposed lesson brought back a memory of a hot summer afternoon at the same beach six years ago. Taylor’s vision had already begun to fail her, but otherwise, she was still the happy, vibrant, healthy kid we knew.

Despite her vision loss, Taylor could run from our chairs to the ocean and back again, low tide or not. She had one hell of an internal compass, and she had no fear.

I’ve never been as fearless as my little sister. Even in that 10-second experiment on the same beach Taylor once ruled in summers that are now only a memory, I feared that I might re-injure my ankle or trip over a child running out of nowhere to chase a seagull or catch a wave.

Like it or not, those smooth, wide beaches are in our past. The path ahead is uneven ground. I’ll need at least an ounce of my sister’s courage to keep going. And whether I run one blindfolded race or one hundred, I’ll need to keep my eyes wide open for the real fight.

I will run the Thunder Road Half Marathon blindfolded to support gene therapy co-funded by Taylor’s Tale at the University of North Carolina Gene Therapy Center. Donations to this cause are 100 percent tax-deductible. To support my run and our fight to develop treatments for Batten disease and other genetic diseases, click here.