This man might be the most positive person Ash and I have ever come across. He's always smiling (my cheeks actually hurt from smiling and laughing after hanging out with him), he's always there to lend a hand, and he always makes you see the light at the end of the tunnel. (If there isn't one, there will be by the time he's done with you!)
I met him at JetBlue, and we worked closely together for a number of years. He took the time to get to know Ash, so much so that Ash didn't want to miss hanging out with him. (If you only saw the two of them break it down at our wedding...) His energy is contagious--he believes in people, and takes his role as a friend very seriously. (Who calls others just to tell them how much they love and value their friendship? He does. Numerous times. And we appreciate it and are touched every single time.)
He took people who could barely run a mile, and in a number of months had them finish a full marathon. The most amazing part? He would run with one of them, lead them to the finish line, and then run backwards to accompany the next person. He refused to cross the finish line until every single one of his friends had finished. If you're lucky enough to call him a friend, this isn't the least bit surprising. Leaving you when you're vulnerable just isn't his style.
We caught up with him a few weeks ago in Manhattan, as he was passing through for work. He told us he'd decided to run another 100 mile ultramarathon, so I put the date into my calendar so we could track him. (Yes, I said 100 miles. Straight. By yourself, not a relay. No stopping.) After all, running vicariously through him was the only way I'd even get close to such a feat. The only way I'd even run 1 mile is if you put a gigantic cupcake at the end. And let's face it, Crumbs is less than a mile from my apartment, so...
As Saturday morning rolled around, I sent him a text wishing him good luck, and we set up my laptop on the dining table for the next 30ish hours to track his exact location.
With every friendship, there is often an event that reminds you how much that friend means to you. The next 30 hours did exactly that. This is how our weekend went...
Saturday morning:
Everything looked good, and we'd check the screen as we'd walk by. We sent him a text once he started. Ash was getting ready for work, I was watching TV and doing some stuff around the apartment.
Saturday afternoon:
Something starts to seem off. His pace just doesn't seem right. I'm now sitting at the table, over-analyzing and checking the screen every few minutes. Ash has called from work to check on his status, and agrees that it seems a bit odd. But both of us figure it might be a fluke, and perhaps everything is fine.
Saturday afternoon--a few hours later:
I am now hitting refresh on the laptop while sitting at the table, since the auto-refresh every 5 minutes seems too slow. I'm almost certain something is wrong, as people who started after him are now passing him. Ash's calls and texts get more frequent. All we can do is text him good thoughts, so we do.
Saturday afternoon--even later:
I'm cursing whoever created this tracker system. Refreshes every 5 minutes? Seriously? That's terrible. It should refresh every 30 seconds. Or every second. That would induce far less stress. Stupid system.
Saturday evening:
Ash comes back home, and we constantly keep our eyes on the tracker. The little yellow runner icon is still moving, so relief has started to set in. We occasionally check the drop list and keep our fingers crossed, as we know he'd only quit if there was a serious problem. Every time he's not on there, we breathe a sigh of relief. However, it doesn't help to see the ever-increasing list of runners who have had to stop and call it quits. I vow to stop checking the drop list. Another text sent his way.
Saturday night:
I keep thinking about how he must be feeling. He's been running all day. All day. And I'm fairly certain that something went wrong in the afternoon. It's now dark out, and he's running through wooded paths with nothing but a small light on his head. As if that's not terrifying enough, he may not see anyone for miles. (Let's face it--how many people do you know that run 100 mile ultramarathons?) That drop list is getting longer by the hour. (Couldn't keep my vow to not check it.) Ash doesn't say much, but I can tell from how often he is checking the tracker (especially when he put it on his computer as well) that he is thinking about him too. This is no easy task, running 100 miles. This is crazy. Human bodies are not made for this. We are both recalling the stories he told us about what can go wrong. It helps a bit to know that he's done this before, but the relief is only temporary. I selfishly vow to hit him the next time I see him.
Saturday late night:
Neither one of us can pull ourselves away from the tracker. (This poor guy is still running, and I'm supposed to go to sleep?) Ash has to work on Sunday, so he gets in bed, but keeps asking about his status. I set an alarm for 2:00 am to wake up and ensure he's still moving.
Sunday, around 2 am:
Still moving. Another text sent. A bit of relief.
Sunday morning:
Looking good. Another text. Now we're just waiting for him to finish so we can turn off the tracker and find out how it went. Wish we were in CA so we could see him cross the finish line.
Sunday afternoon:
He crossed the finish line! Relief! I'm happy to finally close the laptop, though the rest of the day seems empty without the tracker. ;-)
Turns out he had stomach issues for 20 miles. 20 miles. After he battled through those 20 miles, he continued to run 50 more miles. If my stomach hurts, I barely want to take 10 steps. Talk about putting us "normal" people to shame. ;-) Though I can't even imagine it, the fact that he did it doesn't surprise me in the slightest. If anyone can push through and prevail, he can.
You're an inspiration, Michael Murphy. I'm not only talking about the running. You take any challenge thrown your way and look at it as a learning opportunity. It never ceases to amaze me. We both are so glad we'll be able to spend years learning from you and calling you a dear friend.
We are so proud of you! We don't tell you enough how honored we are to be friends with you, and it's weekends like this that make us realize how much we value your friendship. We love you more than all the shimmies, jump straddles and squids on earth! :-)
I am keeping my vow to hit you though. This was ridiculous. Running 100 miles, whose bright idea was that? Sheesh.
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