Super Sam and the Iron Man

Before you judge my title, rest assured I didn't come up with the phrase during a caffeine induced, coffee stimulated, state of mom euphoria. Sam's good friend, Thomas, referred to my athletic son as Super Sam when we discussed the upcoming event a few weeks ago at church. 

Since it didn't evolve from a corny mom moment, I feel free to use it. 

Because right now, my son and his wife are driving around Wilmington, NC, making final preparations for Sam's Iron Man race tomorrow. Thankfully, a sage green sofa holds my frame in a house only a block from the sand. So while I've battled stress on many fronts as the day has drawn near, our toes enjoyed the waves this morning.  A fringe benefit, indeed.

 

"Why am I stressed?" you ask, "What's the big deal?"

Sam was diagnosed with mitochondrial disease before me. A muscle biopsy marked his fifteenth birthday and he woke in the hospital on Christmas Eve morning just over a year later due to a spinal tap bleed. I watched him swim a state meet his senior year after sitting through rounds of doctors appointments that included a lot of antibiotics and breathing treatments. 

It wasn't easy. And it still isn't.

But my youngest child's intrigue in sports began before he started elementary school and never let up. I could explain more, but honestly I've already struggled to put feelings into words. Because this last foray includes a 2.4 mile swim followed by a 112 mile bike ride topped off by a 26.2 mile marathon run.

I remember the day a mitochondrial disease specialist looked at us and said something like, "With this kind of disease, you don't run a marathon. Your body doesn't have the extra energy kick to handle long distance sports."

And yet just over a year ago, my son decided he wanted to face his disease head on by tackling an Iron Man. 

I tried telling him he was crazy. But it didn't work. He knows my past. 

I married a man with a brain tumor. Got pregnant after he started having double vision. And then decided to smuggle Bible's into China four months later - to grow our faith.

While Sammy's determination may be somewhat explained by surging testosterone, just last week he reminded me that he wants to live in a hut someday and spread the Gospel in the middle of nowhere. Testing his limits now prepares him to fulfill his dreams later. 

It's a lot easier to be the child full of wanderlust than the mom looking on from the sidelines. So will you pray with me tomorrow? Will you pray for Sam? For strength, energy, endurance, and God's presence in the midst of the journey.

It means a lot to him and to Courtney. And so it means a lot to me.