Why I Run: Debbie Safran by jen on July 18, 2011 · 0 comments in Why I Run Why do I run? Funny you should ask. I don’t consider myself to be a runner. At all. Last year, a friend of mine who is a marathoner decided (for reasons I do not know, as she was planning—and ran—the full marathon herself) that our office should enter the lottery for a KBVCM relay team. After she heard we got a slot, she needed to assemble a team. I’ve watched the marathon for years, and thought it would be fun to see it from the “other side”. And though I’ve never run before in my life (unless you count running after one of my dogs!), I figured, “Hey – I can do 5.5 miles!” And surprisingly, it was fun. A lot of fun. I wasn’t sure if I’d do it again, however, until I started talking about it with a friend who had started running around the same time I began training last year. But I didn’t want to just run. I wanted to make it personal. Meaningful. Ellie In November 2006, my husband and I got the news most Greyhound owners fear: Ellie had osteosarcoma. I had adopted her 7 years earlier as a companion to my first Greyhound, Katie. While they looked like a set (two little red brindle girls), their personalities couldn’t have been more different. Katie was as sassy—a troublemaker if I ever saw one—as Ellie was sweet. I never had to worry about Ellie. Until now. Confused and frightened by the horrible options that lay before us, I reached out to the greater Greyhound community. The response was overwhelming. One woman told me about her 10-year old Greyhound who lived three years post-diagnosis. A local veterinarian offered her Greyhound as a blood donor, should Ellie need it. An out-of-state veterinarian was able to answer specific questions from personal experience. But one name kept coming up, over and over again: Dr. Guillermo Couto, from the Department of Veterinary Clinical Sciences College of Veterinary Medicine at The Ohio State University. So I called his staff at the Greyhound Health and Wellness Center and emailed Dr. Couto himself. They were amazing. I always got my questions answered and concerns addressed, even though we live over 700 miles away and Ellie was not one of their patients. I cannot put into words what it meant to me, to have the help and support from his staff as we went through this ordeal. Ellie’s surgeon was fantastic. So was her team of oncologists. She was worth the best care possible, and that’s exactly what she got. Knowing that we also had Dr. Couto in our corner gave us an added sense of comfort. I soon realized that at some point, I’d want to give back to the Greyhound community. This disease is too awful—and too prevalent—to not let others learn from our experiences. But I also wanted to have a bit of fun. Aha! I found the inspiration for a relay team: The OSU Greyhound Health and Wellness Program. Of course, a relay team needs members—who, fortunately for me, were easy to find. In addition to my one running friend, who also has Greyhounds, I had another Greyhound friend who had once trained for the New York City marathon. And another Greyhound friend who happened to be looking for a relay team to join. And another (non-Greyhound) friend who also wanted to join a relay team. “Team BiPawds (aka Greyt Gals Running)” was born. We created a logo and fundraising message, set a fundraising goal, and started to train. Winter was hard—cold, snowy, and seemed to go on forever. Spring was late and very, very wet. Nearly constant rainfall caused Lake Champlain to reach record highs, and it remained at flood stage for weeks. We had to train in the wind, rain, and cold. It killed our confidence and left us feeling frustrated and unprepared. But as donations came in, our spirits lifted. This wasn’t about how fast we could run. This was about hope. Race day started off rainy, and ended hot and humid. Not a perfect day to run 26.2 miles, and I was glad to have broken it up among four wonderful friends. At the end of the day, five “Greyt Gals Running” had given it their all, sporting their matching bright orange shirts. Like most of the greyhounds we had adopted, we didn’t come anywhere near first place. But we had a lot of fun, and we had over $900 in donations. Though we may have finished 91st in our category, Team BiPawds won something more important than a medal: A second chance for someone’s very special Greyhound. Note: The 2011 Vermont City Marathon took place 7 months after Ellie died. A 4-year cancer survivor, she lived to nearly 14—a long, happy life by any Greyhound standards. She beat all the odds, but she couldn’t beat old age.
My wife--second from the left.
