Second Chances

My name is Tim Bentley and this is a story about second chances and running. This story begins with my left big toe…

You know at the shoe store, when they ask you to move your toe up and down, to see if the shoe fits? Well, I can’t move my left big toe (you just tried it didn’t you?). So did I. I still can’t do it.

But this big toe starts me on a journey, a journey to my second chance. A place that I wouldn’t be, if it wasn’t for my first chance.

Because my first chance happened when I was in high school. When I was a nervous freshman, trying out for the golf team. My friend Mike and I practiced all summer in hopes of making the team. I tell people we got cut from the team, but in reality, we didn’t even make the team to get cut. Like any nervous, 14-year-old boys, Mike and I panicked. Oh no, we’ll have to take PE in 3rd period. We’ll be sweaty in school!

But my friend Mike is smart and knows that cross country is a no-cut sport! We find the coach, Mr. Brooks and shyly ask if we can join the team. I’m so nervous, worrying that he’d say no. I’d learn later as an adult, and HS cross country coach, that XC takes everybody – if two boys show up begging to be on the team, you take them!

And here, here is my first chance for running to save my life.

You know that teacher you have in HS that’s your favorite? The one you can remember to this day? Mr. Brooks is that for me. Not only was he a coach, but he was a teacher of life lessons. He taught us to:

• Be tough
• Push yourself
• Be competitive, but gracious
• Be curious
• Be kind
• Be great everyday

I began to look forward to those daily practices. To find myself, to define myself as a runner. I had some success in HS. I was the #1 runner for three years. I led the first boy's team in HS history to the state championship meet, and I was an all-state and all-region runner. But my favorite thing about cross country was Mr. Brooks. Each day and after each race I came to look forward to Mr. Brooks, who with a quiet, “good job, Timothy” was all it took to fill my chest with pride.

My senior year I had the top time in the state in the mile, and along with some teammates set the school record in the distance medley. A record that still stands to this day and is third fastest in Tucson history. I looked it up :) I was even inducted into the Sabino HS Hall of fame last month for my exploits as a runner among other things.

I was a good runner and a good student. Not only did I earn an athletic scholarship, but I earned an academic one too. I was lucky enough to earn a few bucks to offset college expenses.

But just three years later, I‘d let this first chance slip away.

You see, I’d talk myself out of running after a few years in college. Chasing girls and drinking beers would be much more fun I thought. But along with those pursuits, came bad grades, failing classes and quitting the team. Most regrettably, I’d forgotten the lessons that Mr. Brooks taught me.

Fast forward 17 years and I’m sitting on the couch trying to wiggle my big toe. But I can’t. That non-wiggle starts me on a journey to find out why. A succession of doctors try and diagnose me. Did I injure my foot? Break my leg, wear funny shoes? No. No. My wife thought I did, but no.

But at each doctor I ask questions that help me narrow it down. A local Gastroenterologist tells me that low B-12 can cause nerve damage. Aha! It’s solved. He is concerned about a small mass in my stomach. He thinks I have Chrohn’s disease – a B-12 sucking disease that he is confident is the culprit. But after two years of treatment, we come to realize that it’s not.

Let’s try one more test he says. A biopsy on that mass in my stomach. A biopsy in April of 2009 that comes back positive for Non-Hodgkin’s Lymphoma.

Here it is 2009 –

• 28 years after I met Mr. Brooks
• 22 years after I stopped running
• and 2 years after my big toe

Diagnosed with Non Hodgkin’s Follicular Lymphoma Stage IV (out of V) and I'm screwed.

They hustled me into treatment, because if I didn’t, I could die.

I didn’t know what I could do, I didn’t know what I should do – my life is in shambles, chasing girls and drinking beer will do that. And now I have cancer. I. just. didn’t. know...

I sat down and had a think. I did know what to do. I’m a runner and Mr. Brooks taught me these things to be true:

• Be tough
• Push yourself
• Be competitive, but gracious
• Be curious
• Be kind
• Be great everyday

I decided to run a race against chemo, kick the crap out of cancer. I would apply the lessons I learned from Mr. Brooks, and spoiler alert – I won. But that’s a story for another day. Another Odyssey.

I will tell you this - I went through four years of kick your ass, ‘punch you in the face’ chemotherapy, radiation and other drugs. And every step along the way, doctors, nurses, and other medical staff tell you just how good you are at ‘getting punched in the face.’

My story ends, or maybe it begins again after my treatment ends. I called up my friend Mike, the one that was cut from the golf team with me and asked him to go for a run. Lacing up my shoes that day, I realize I still can’t move my big toe, but I don’t really care, I’m just excited to get out.

Mike and I head out on the path, and no joke, the first person we see when we make the turn is Mr. Brooks walking with his wife Carol. I hadn’t seen him in years, this man that played such a big role in my life, influencing me tremendously. I quickly told him my story. Chemo, radiation, remission. Two minutes tops. We visited for just for a few more minutes after that. As we get ready to say our good byes, he turns to me and says, ‘Good job, Timothy,' and my chest fills with pride.

You see, it was Mr. Brooks that had given me my second chance. But he gave it to me in 1981. I just didn’t know it.