The New Health Dialogue

This past Sunday we ran in the 33rd annual Marine Corps Marathon. We can't say we thought much about health reform on the course. After grabbing a beer at mile 23, we can't say we really did much thinking at all. But having followed the triple-T path to recovery—time, TV, and twenty-five-cent wings—we had a chance to reflect on some of the similarities between running a marathon and trying to reform health care.

Like the more than 70 million Americans who are either uninsured or underinsured, you start off cold and nervous, wishing you had more coverage. During the first few miles, you look enviously at those smart enough to be wearing gloves, hats and long sleeve shirts (The equivalent of "gold-plated Cadillac" health coverage?). But like health care premiums, the temperature rises quickly. Soon, the once-cozy runners around you begin shedding coverage faster than small businesses during annual enrollment.

After about four miles, you cross state lines hoping things will improve. Unfortunately, they also have hills in Georgetown, and your decline into D.C. continues even after the course has flattened out.

Undeterred by the pop duo DHT's suggestion to "Listen to Your Heart," you reach the halfway mark of Hains Point, where, in years past, you would have had an Awakening and think "Hey, we might actually do this." But the real work is still ahead.

The conservative in you worries about the public crowd out, but the fans are amazing, inspiring, and considerably helpful. When one hands you a tub of Vaseline (name-brand, not generic), you're skeptical. Yet after a generous application you realize that, like an individual mandate, Vaseline seems to make everything run smoother.

Finally, right when you're having your biggest moments of self-doubt, wondering if you should have taken this more incrementally, maybe done a few 10Ks and Halfs, you pass a man holding a Team in Training sign. It's the program you're running for, the one that trained you to run this marathon as part of a fundraising program that has raised hundreds of millions of dollars for the research and patient services provided by the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society.

He tells you "Thank you. I'm in remission. Thank you." In that instant, you remember exactly why you're running. The rest isn't easy, but when you cross that finish line, and everyone's covered in some combination of sweat, family and Mylar blankets, it's completely and utterly worth it.

So, thank you to everyone who helped us along this path.

• Thank you to our lovely and amazing girlfriend, Julie, who got us started in all of this, and who also crossed the finish line with Team in Training on Sunday.
• Thank you to Coaches Rich and Charlie, and all the Team in Training staff, for your hard work and commitment to a wonderful cause.
• Thank you to Tim "The Captain" Leahy, Rebecca, Ben, Devon, Devin, Bryan, Matt, John, Erica, and everyone else who we were fortunate enough to run with.
• Thank you to men and women of the United States Marine Corps, for putting on this great race and for your service to this great country.
• Thank you to our friends, family, and co-workers, who helped us reach and surpass our fundraising goal for Team in Training. Special shout outs to Marc, part of our frequent-milestone donor club; to our Parents, part of our freak-out "there's a deadline?!" donor club; and to the staff of New America, who were among the "too-numerous-to-list" donors club.
• Finally, thank you to all those who have battled and are battling leukemia, lymphoma, Hodgkins disease, myeloma and other blood cancers. Your courage and commitment was our inspiration every step of the way.