The only reason I try to train to run marathons is because I love running the Boston Marathon every year. Now, I run for three other reasons that are more important.

First, there’s health. I used to very overweight and it was a legitimate fear of my wife’s that I wouldn’t be around long enough for my kids. That’s not an issue any more and living (fairly) healthy is something I do now. There’s the charity aspect of things. I’ve used my running to create Operation Jack and the Operation Jack Marathon, which together have grossed about $185,000 to fight autism in honor of my son Jack, who’s severely autistic. That’s a huge, huge passion of mine. Also, I love the quiet time I get when I run. It always sets me up for a good day, puts me in a good mood and gets my thoughts together. [Read more…]

A year ago this past weekend, I went to my 20th high school reunion in California. There were a lot of familiar faces, a lot of somewhat familiar faces, and some people I kind of vaguely remembered their name but that was about it. I had a good time chatting with everybody, whether or not I talked to them back in high school, and often enough my son Jack’s autism came up in conversation. I don’t walk up to people and shout, “HEY! MY SON HAS AUTISM!” but it consumes every aspect of my life. Ask me what my kids like to do and you’ll find out that Jack likes to punch himself in the head, you know?

Anyways, I was talking to somebody named Joann about him and she brought me over to talk to somebody else named Jeanine. Jeanine didn’t graduate with us, but she went to junior high with us. I remembered the name, but I didn’t know her back in the day. She’s an autism mom, though, which is why Joann made the introduction. We chatted for a while and found that we have a lot in common in our approach to dealing with autism and have stayed in touch through Facebook since then.

That introduction out of the way, I get Lisa Ackerman’s blog in my email (Lisa is the founder of TACA and has been a huge, huge help to us over the years). I took a quick glance because I was just getting to work, but I didn’t put 2+2 together. Later that night, Jeanine sent me a link and I realized Lisa’s blog was her story. It also got posted on the Autism Speaks site.

While all kids with autism are different, I found the story encouraging because it goes to show that there’s a lot going in their minds — probably more than we realize. I don’t know what Jack knows or understands, but things like this give me hope. Also, I’m guilty of frequently saying that I don’t expect my son to amount to much because of the severity of his autism, but these types of incidents are a reminder than you can have an impact in ways other than having a good job.

Anyways, I asked Jeanine if I could run her post here and she said no problem. So here you go …

I wanted to share what happened last week because as the mother of a child who has been diagnosed with Autism, I would want to hear this.

Last week, I was in the kitchen preparing lunch for my kids. One therapist had just left and I was expecting another one to arrive in about 20 minutes. I heard my 5 year old son Liam, who has been diagnosed with Autism, scream out for me with the most urgency ever, ” MOMMY! MOMMY! MOMMY! MOMMY!!!” It was very concerning to me because I had never before heard him like that.

I rushed out to the playroom and he had a look of pain on his face but I couldn’t see what was wrong. It was then that I saw what will haunt me for the rest of my life….my 3 year old daughter Eloise had the cord to the blinds wrapped around her neck so tight and she was purple! Very panicked, I ran to her as fast as I could while wondering if I could make it to her in time. I had to lift her up to pull the cord off of her and after all was said and done, she was ok! Liam had saved her life!

She had been climbing on the back of the couch, reached up and put the cord over her head and must have slipped down into a seated position on the top of the couch. I know how very close we were to having a very different and tragic ending….I couldn’t hear a thing from the kitchen. My husband and I both know that God used my son to save his little sister’s life.

We are stunned that our son even knew that the situation was urgent and called out like that for me. If you had asked us prior to this happening what we thought he would have done, seeing this happen to his sister, we would have said we are convinced he would not have known anything was happening and he would have remained silent.

Our son has always been verbal, but he has always struggled with his language as well as understanding things going on around him. We have learned so much from him, and now we realize he understands more than we thought…..there is a treasure buried in there that we did not know exists. He has always been our special blessing but on this day he also became our little Hero!

You never know what your child is capable of until times like this. We are truly thankful. By the way, all of the window coverings have been completely removed!

That’s all for today. Thanks for letting me post this, Jeanine![subscribe2]

On July 1, 2009, I launched this blog and my foundation and Operation Jack. What is Operation Jack? It was my attempt to try to do some good. My middle child, Jack, is severely autistic and realistically isn’t ever going to amount to much in this world. I didn’t want him to go through this world and just be a random person who just took up space and resources. I wanted him to make a difference.

I had this idea that I would run 60 marathons in a single year as an attempt to raise awareness and money in my fight against autism. I ended up running 61 marathons in 2010, grossing just south of $90,000 and creating the Operation Jack Marathon in the process. In the final mile of that 61st marathon, I told my good friend Ben Delaney, who was running with me step for step at that point, that I was so glad it was over. He told me that really, it was just the beginning.

That was a cool thing to hear and it motivated me. I decided to keep pushing forward with Operation Jack, just like I did when I launched it about 18 months before that day. I’d just take it day to day without a plan and something good would happen. I took a break and ran a race for me and finally broke three hours in a marathon. Then I ran as a charity chaser for the San Francisco Marathon, raising more than $4,000 to fight cancer. Then I put on a six-hour timed race to raise money to support the families of wounded soldiers. Then there was the second Operation Jack Marathon. And the third. And now the fourth.

But I’m really starting to think that I’m done. I cling to my 61 marathons in 2010 like I’m Al Bundy talking about his four touchdowns in a single game.

I’m totally Al Bundy. I’m beat up, I’m aging in a hurry, I fight for my family, I accept the fact that life kicks me in the teeth on a daily basis, and I once ran 61 marathons in a single year.

I’m totally exhausted, partially from biting off more than I can chew, partially from being so emotionally attached to this, partially from not being able to let go and I’m sure also for two relocations in 13 months and an absolute nightmare of a year in Colorado, which destroyed my wife and my son.

I don’t know what to do or how to do it any more. I think about it all the time when I run, that maybe it’s just time to let go and let this be a thing of the past. My wife Tiffany told me when I asked her in April 2009 about running all those marathons to try to make something happen, “Don’t not do it and always wonder, what if?”

So, I did it. I tried my best. I didn’t just talk about it — I got out there and gave it a try. I’ll never wonder, what if. And I’ll be forever grateful for the memories and experiences. Maybe I’ll find a second (well probably third or fourth by this point) wind. But mentally, I’m going to spend the next four months preparing myself to let Operation Jack become a memory.

Cheesy plug: I say four months because that’s how long it is until the Operation Jack Marathon. Check out the site at operationjack.org/marathon … we have our race in Los Angeles, our race in Kansas City and our race in Portland, Oreg., plus our satellite runs. Also trying to work on some other things. If you want to participate, email me at sam@operationjack.org and let me know![subscribe2]

My wife Tiffany’s life has been hell for quite a while now. Our son Jack’s autism is destroying her bit-by-bit. We moved from California to Colorado in March 2012 seeking a better life, but it got even worse. There wasn’t a school there for him that was safe and he stayed at home starting in May 2012.

After failing in our attempt to resolve his school situation, we decided to relocate to Pennsylvania. I got a job and had to leave the family 10 weeks early. She had to take care of all three of our kids and pack our house while I was gone. She’d frequently function on 4-6 hours of sleep max because she’d have to wait until Jack was in bed before getting her work done.

When school ended, she headed down to California with the kids to stay with her family while we purchased a house in Pennsylvania. Those temporary arrangements made things even worse for Jack, as he developed a severe dependency issue with her. The family got out here a month ago and he’s been glued to her hip ever since. Within a minute of the time I was with them at the airport, he got upset when I tried to walk next to him instead of Tiff walking next to him.

He now gets separation anxiety so bad that if he wakes up in the middle of the night, he’ll have meltdowns until she’s in his room, sleeping on the floor. She spends all day chasing him around as he gets bored and frustrated. No activity is good enough for him and she doesn’t have any help. She can’t step away from him, or else he’s a danger to himself and everything in our house. He just broke his iPad over the weekend, probably the 10th or so time this has happened. We get the screens repaired and Apple has been really good to help us for free, but enough is enough with this.

Unfortunately, he’s going stir crazy even worse and Tiff has virtually no existence of her own. She broke down crying last night, telling me that she was sorry she didn’t get anything done around the house and sorry that she had snapped at me. I told her I didn’t mind, that I know she’s going through hell and she has been for quite a while and she will be until he starts school on September 3.

I feel bad for her. I feel terrible for her. But you know who I really feel terrible for?

Jack.

He was having another meltdown last night and I was looking at him as he was sitting at a table in the kitchen. Tiff was sobbing pretty badly, talking about how bad she feels for him. And I totally agree. I look at him, an innocent 9-year-old (turning 10 next month). He’s still wearing diapers. He’s still wearing a padded helmet because he’s still injuring himself when he gets upset. He’s still not talking

I look at him and see a ruined body, a ruined mind, a ruined life. He has pain with his leaky gut every day. I can’t imagine what it’s like to always be in pain, when every meal makes you hurt. I can’t imagine what he must think when he looks at the world through his little eyes. Does he have any happiness? Does he hate dragging through every day? And never mind what could have been or should have been.

I can get selfish and get upset about what his autism does to my life. I often sit and think about what it does to her life. But then I look at what it does to his life. He’s the biggest loser in all of this. Hopefully that changes someday.

Unrelated quick plugs: See what Operation Jack is, aka why I even have this site. Check out the Operation Jack Marathon or just register! Great race, great price, great cause! And check out our satellite race in Kansas City. Also, I blame this on Operation Jack supporter Jake Rome, but … I guess I’m for sale.[subscribe2]