Today, Kayle and I are running the Chicago Marathon. We’re running in honor of her father, Scott, and to pay forward the seemingly endless love and support that our family and friends have provided over the past few years. I hope you’ll find something motivating from our story that can influence you to help pay it forward to someone in your life(time).
Last fall, Kayle spent an extended period of time back home in Minneapolis to help care for Scott. While Kayle was away, it was unseasonably warm in Chicago (except for the snow on Halloween), so I began running around our neighborhood. One evening while running, I pondered the idea of a marathon as it had just taken place. I’d never voluntarily ran more than three miles and the 26.2 mile endeavor seemed outlandish. The combination of these two functions made it an easy choice, so I signed up. Kayle joined me this year, and we’ve been training together, which has been a lot of fun. I wouldn’t be able to do this without Kayle.
Scott was diagnosed with Melanoma in June of 2020, just months after retiring. There were mets to his liver, lungs, and brain-an unsettling prognosis. Kayle spent time living in Minneapolis, which became relatively frequent and difficult. Fortunately, Scott received incredible healthcare, and complemented that with his own passion for diet and exercise.
He lived a normal life until needing two brain surgeries: one in September of 2022, the other in March of 2023. The first surgery was conquered, but the second came out of necessity. Scott was in bad shape-his surgery was high-risk, met with many upfront conversations about paralysis or not surviving. Scott didn’t have a choice, he had too much to live for.
At the Mayo Clinic, a white-board listing patient information hung in Scott’s room. Under a section titled Goals, “To walk Kayle down the aisle at her wedding” was emphatically written. You quickly realize what’s important to people in what could be their last moments. Physically speaking, he was lightyears from achieving that goal at the time, but he had to take the first step. It so was depressingly cold and dark that week in Rochester, the time of year when you question living in the Midwest. On the day of surgery, it was perfectly sunny, and he was paraded into the OR by his family.
Scott survived. He spent considerable time in Rochester, aggressively rehabilitating his body as surgery left him with limited mobility on one side. Each day was a gift, and we prayed that he’d at least be there for our wedding. Being present wasn’t good enough.
On the afternoon of August 26th, 2023, Scott miraculously walked Kayle down the aisle. You always picture what that moment will be like, but it’s impossible to articulate after it occurs. What you don’t see is the process, the mundanity of excellence, the little things Scott did each day to propel him towards that goal. It was truly special, and they kept it going later that evening with an unforgettable father daughter dance.
A few months later, Scott passed away. We had just visited him: Taking the first boat ride of 2024 on Lake Minnetonka, staying up late and talking by the fire. Living in the moment, how life should be lived.
Many of you know this story from start to finish-you lived it with us. The reason I revisit it is to emphasize that as much as this is about Scott, it’s more about the people who stood alongside us, and what we learned along the way. There will be 50,000 people running this marathon with circumstances similar to ours. Everyone has a story, we all face adversity at some point in our life.
We’re running and fundraising in reciprocity for those who helped when they didn’t have to: Who called when it was hard to make words, cooked meals, gave gift cards, donated money, road-tripped across the country to visit, hosted surprise fundraisers, traveled to and from The Mayo Clinic, prayed, checked-in, did anything to make life easier. You know who you are, we will be there when your time of need comes.
The reason I write (which Kayle isn’t aware of), is to express our sincerest gratitude to those that helped us along the way. While the money we raise may not directly go to you, we hope that someone on the receiving end of our fundraising is able to feel the same love, comfort and healthcare that we were afforded. Thank you.
Love,
Reed & Kayle Schlesner
Reed- American Brain Tumor Association
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