By Scot DeDeo
Running, for me, like many others here, is a lifestyle. It is a major part of my everyday life and is my go to activity for stress relief, building discipline, achieving goals, and finding purpose. The communities I have been a part of have been essential to everything I have done in running from big PRs to big fundraisers. Running has also been my constant during this unprecedented pandemic.
Team sports were fun as a child, but it wasn't until my senior year indoor track season that I learned how a team supports you and pushes you. I was a member of our 4 X 800 meter relay team. We had been chasing our school record all season. At what we thought would be the final meet of the season, we missed the school record by four seconds. We were devastated. In an unexpected turn of events, our time was fast enough to get the last spot at All-States, which garnered us one more shot at besting the school record. It was our last shot, and we all needed to bring our A Game if we were going to shave four seconds off our collective time. After a long, hard fought run, we emerged victorious, finishing in a time of 8:21.02, breaking our school record by a mere 0.18 seconds. With our arms locked together, jumping up and down, it was clear I would never have run that hard or that fast if I had not had this group pushing and depending on me.
Reggie Lewis Center, Massachusetts All-State Meet, Winter, 1999
In 2011, after reading the book Born to Run, I signed up for my first ultramarathon, a 50K in Brooksville, Florida, called the Croom Fools Run. At this point, I had never run over 16 miles. I like to do things in an unorthodox way. My first half marathon was part of a triathlon, so I figured going from 16 miles straight to 31, skipping over the marathon, was a logical step. Additionally, I have always been intrigued by how hard I could push myself. You can get pretty far in life by simply outworking those around you. For most of the training cycle, I ran with the Somerville Road Runners, and if not for those runners who dragged me along and made sure I didn't skip out during our track workouts, I probably never would have made it through the 50K.
Over the following years, my speed improved, and I increased my distance. I ran my first 50 miler and qualified for Boston in the same year. In 2015, my second child, Nathaniel (Nat), was born, and little did I know how much I would need my community moving forward.
My son, Nat, has a genetic disorder named Neurofibromatosis, which is a condition that can cause tumors to grow on nerve endings. It is a spectrum disorder meaning some go through life mostly unaffected while others are not as fortunate. Since this diagnosis, my whole outlook on running has changed completely. Instead of being solely focused on how to get faster and go farther, I decided to use running as a way to give back.
“Since this diagnosis, my whole outlook on running has changed completely. Instead of being solely focused on how to get faster and go farther, I decided to use running as a way to give back.”
In 2016, I learned about the organization Neurofibromatosis Northeast, and showed up at their charity bike ride, Coast to the Cure NF, with a pair of sneakers and ran the 25 mile route. From then on, I have become deeply involved with this group, running the Boston Marathon representing them in 2017 and 2019 (running a double in 2019), coaching their Falmouth Road Race team for the past four years, and returning to that same charity bike ride again, and again running 66 miles, 40 miles, and then 60 miles.
Coast to the Cure NF with Keith and Patrick, mile 30 (of 66), 2017
I found that the less I made running about me, the better a runner I became. I went on to run my first 100 miler, the Hennepin Hundred, in 2017 while raising over $16,000 for NF Northeast. Like that relay race 18 years earlier, I truly felt failure was not an option knowing others were depending on me. Over the past year and a half, I had become part of a community much larger than myself. I now knew a number of families affected by NF, and together we made a commitment to fight this disease until a cure is found.
For the last few years, this has continued to hold true. Whether it was running races, tagging mountains, or simply going out and exploring, my community has been there to support me, as running partners, crew members, and donors to my fundraisers.
The Double Boston, Mile 44, April 15th, 2019
2020 has brought unique challenges. In March, as we transitioned to social distancing, all of a sudden, the community was silent. I found myself at home running the same routes again and again. The monotony made it harder to push myself. The loss of daylight in recent months made it even harder to hit the trails in the morning. Again, my community was there to support and challenge me. Whether we are running together or simply running the same routes at different times, it's the simple words of encouragement that make all the difference. My favorite activity lately has been our weekly SHOP runs (Scot's Hills of Pain). Each week we run circuits together and seek out the best sunrise.
View of the Boston skyline at Robbins Farm Park, 2020
If it wasn't for all those who I have met, who have pushed me, supported me, and simply showed up along the way, none of this, my progression in running, my exploring, and my fundraising, would have been possible, and with that, I simply say, “Thank you."
About the Author
Scot lives in Belmont, Massachusetts with his wife Amy, two sons, Neil and Nat, and their cat, Callie. He has run at least a mile every day since January 1st, 2014, has run his age on his birthday for the past six years, and, with the support of his community, has raised over $46,000 for Neurofibromatosis research in the name of his son Nat (who is currently a healthy five year old).
