By Heather Mahnken
On April 19, 2017 my youngest son was diagnosed with a brain tumor. It was one of my scariest and
saddest days and I didn’t think it could get any worse. Until June 22, 2017 when we were told my son
had a cancer that did not respond to treatment and we had no options. I held my 2-year-old son and
felt completely helpless. How can there be no hope! The reason is pediatric brain cancer research is so
underfunded this is the story for many families. We turned to research to give us an unconventional
treatment path. The gift of research gave our family time to create precious memories.
Eli lived another 5.5 years- traveling to 33 different states, hiking, reading, skiing, playing soccer, and
being a Pokémon master. Through his hard work and determination, he learned to run. Maybe
because running was so difficult for his body, or maybe it just felt good, Eli loved to run. He ran
everywhere! You would see him running most days to school just to be the first in line to learn
something new. After learning about Wilma Rudolph, he wanted to run in the Olympics. In October
2021 thanks to my co-workers, the Eli Olympic event took place to honor that wish. In August 2022 he
was told that his tumors had significantly grown. Chemotherapies were no longer able to maintain his
disease. Eli’s response? “I want to run the mile at school and make it onto the wall of fame.” Eli did that. Eli ran with his heart, through the growing cancer, despite taking 3 different chemotherapies. He
was seventh fastest 1st grade boy in his school. Our warrior, runner, kindest hearted Eli died in October 2022.
Loss changes you. It is not a choice; it is thrust upon you. Losing a child is losing an extension of who
you are. Eli grew in my belly, he was the little caboose to complete our family, and through life
circumstances beyond our control made me the mom I always wanted to be. He brought a special light
to our family’s life. Now his earthly presence is gone. The world continues marching forward; and I am
left to make a choice. I could let this horrific and unfair situation rot inside of me and pretend that I am
the same person, or I can honor that I am forever a changed person. I have picked option two.
Training for a marathon is hard. It is a physical act of pushing your body past its comfort zone and
allowing you to see the potential within yourself. Through this experience of training, listening to my
body, giving my mind moments to be present, that I realize how much I have to celebrate. I can
celebrate my family. I can celebrate my friends and my faith. Above all I can celebrate myself. I run to
give life back to me. Finding that level of resilience is priceless, and this experience is something I will
always cherish.
Why did I choose the New York City Marathon? When Eli was told that medicine could no longer control his cancer, we asked him what his 3 wishes were for life. We had planned to go as a family to New York City, Spiderman’s City, in October of 2022. He said that he would rather go ride roller coasters than go to New York. However, in true Eli style, his hand grabbed mine and he placed it on my heart and said, “Don’t worry mom you can take me to New York City in your heart.” Between Eli’s love of running, the opportunity to visit all the boroughs of New York City, and the life I feel coming back to me as I run, I jumped at the chance to run the New York City Marathon on behalf of the Children’s Brain Tumor Foundation.
Eli ran his last mile with me the day before he earned his angel wings. When we finished (and yes he beat me), he told me, “Mom you really need to start training.” Every time I want to quit and give up; I remember the hours he put in on treadmill, doing box jumps, and all his therapy home programs. We all can do hard things, we are all warriors, and in November I will run and celebrate all 26 miles because I can.