According to the professionals, Aran Gordon’s expiration date is almost up. In spring of 2001, he was told he had about five years to live. At the four-year mark in spring of 2005, he wanted to prove them wrong so he ran 150 miles in a 6-day marathon. How does he plan to hallmark the five-year anniversary of his death sentence this spring? He’s decided to run it again.
This may sound harsh, but sometimes harsh is the only reality. And if one word can describe Aran Gordon, it’s “real.” He gets it, he knows, he’s enlightened. He’s a husband, a son, a friend, an employee, a coffee-drinker, and a dog-owner. He’s you, and he’s me. He’s a normal, ordinary person.
But can one be both ordinary and extraordinary? Ask those that know Aran, and the answer is a definitive and firm “yes.”
Ordinary: Commonly encountered, of no exceptional ability
As a 45-year-old fixed-income portfolio specialist at T. Rowe Price, Aran is comfortable with the cards he’s been dealt. In fact, he happily states that he has been lucky enough to win the “wrong” lottery in life, and is appreciative of all he’s been through.
Aran grew up as an avid swimmer, hooked on the discipline of the demanding sport and the unconscious need to aspire to the greatness of his older brother, an award-winning athlete. He always idolized those up on that podium, and would be frustrated that what came naturally to some, was twice as hard for him. With a reminiscent stare Aran remembers thinking many years ago, “Why doesn’t my hand produce the same pull through the water as my brother’s?” He always felt he had an uphill battle, no matter what the fight.
With the encouragement of his father, Aran began his running career in 1984 with the New York Marathon. He shyly admits it’s a funny story, as he did it just to impress a girl he had met at a party the week before. But back then it was a very painful introduction (he could not walk very well for two weeks afterwards) to another love affair – the marathon. Aran so enjoyed the feeling of going “somewhere else” in his mind as he ran such a long distance, that he decided he would do one every year. And he did just that, for the next fifteen years.
But in 1998, something began to go wrong with Aran’s body, and he literally felt it in his bones. He became noticeably fatigued and found it very difficult to run; he had physical pain in his joints and became depressed. In 1999, he ran the Marine Corps Marathon, was barely able to finish, and it became blatantly aware to him that his body was physically shutting down.
He began what would turn out to be a few frustrating years of a battery of tests, during which time his symptoms worsened and Aran could feel himself “dying.” The distention of his liver was visible in his stomach. But he smiles now as he remembers that doctors thought they had a “crazy drunk” on their hands, as depression and an extremely high level of liver enzymes were the two tangible elements on which they were basing diagnosis Finally, in summer of 2001 he was diagnosed with hemochromatosis (HHC), a genetic disorder of metabolism.
A very complicated and under-diagnosed disease, hemochromatosis is known as “The Silent Killer.” It causes the body to absorb too much iron, and since this excess cannot be excreted it builds up to toxic levels in tissues of the major organs such as the liver, heart, thyroid, pancreas, lungs and joints. These organs then fail to function properly, which can lead to liver disease, heart trouble, diabetes, arthritis, depression, neurological problems, impotence, infertility and cancer.
Aran was told that if he did not begin blood treatments, he would have about five years to live. For the next year, he went through primitive blood-letting therapy that left his body so anemic and weakened he contracted pneumonia three times during 2002-2003. Then, near the end of 2003, Aran “woke up.”
And that is where this ordinary man’s extraordinary story really begins.
Extraordinary: Beyond what is ordinary, remarkable
Can one recover from something, yet always be in recovery? According to Aran, recovery is not just something to attain – it is a constant state of mind.
Not exercising for over four years and a disease-related thyroid malfunction left Aran almost sixty pounds heavier than before his diagnosis and in no condition to even take a stroll around the block. However, Aran began to focus on competing in the Marathon Des Sables in order to raise money for the Iron Disorders Institute (IDI), a non-profit group committed to education and awareness about iron out-of-balance disorders.
It was on this path to his goal that Aran learned the real obstacles to surviving his disease, and that they could be overcome by the very characteristics that he believed his whole life had made him ordinary. He now clearly understands that the adversity and mediocrity that once had challenged and frustrated him, made him better equipped to do what he had to do to survive his disease.
It is a natural desire for people who have survived a life-threatening illness or disease to feel well and normal again, and usually they are able to measure and quantify this by a physical accomplishment. However, Aran points out that it is the spiritual element of the accomplishment that provides the foundation for growth; understanding that no one is ever 100% fit and/or recovered and that every survivor’s recovery is distinct is paramount to reaching whatever goals are set.
He also believes that it is after surviving an illness that depression sets in for so many people; he explains that you spend so much time in survival mode, that when you realize you are going to live, you are not sure what to do or how to handle this “new” situation. But he made sure to surround himself with supportive people – he joined a gym and became inspired by those around him, who also had their own survival stories. Aran says, “I looked around me and decided to do the best with what I had. I decided not to take anything for granted, and to recognize that there are others that don’t even have what I have. I learned to be appreciative.”
Set the goal, plan the goal, execute the goal – Aran knew that he wasn’t going to feel better by sitting around. So in 2004 he enlisted the help of Lisa Smith-Batchen, fitness coach (dreamchasersevents.com), elite ultra-marathoner, and former winner of the Marathon Des Sables. She began to train Aran, from his first walk around the block to his first post-recovery marathon, encouraging him and informing him about everything from fitness schedules to diet to running shoes.
It was with her preparation that Aran was able to complete his goal of finishing the Marathon Des Sables in 2005, which also allowed him to raise awareness and money to help others surviving with HCC. But Lisa gives full credit to Aran, stating that despite the fact that he will always be sick, he has the most amazing spirit, and that is what being a survivor is about. Her admiration is more than evident as she remembers, “Aran was a scared little duck out there. But I think running the Marathon Des Sables gave him some peace, understanding and gratitude for life and for all the people around him. Watching Aran cross the finish line gave me goose bumps. I felt his joy. I felt his pain.”
Referred to as the most grueling footrace on earth for over two decades, the Marathon Des Sables (Marathon of the Sands) is a 150-mile competition divided into six stages in which runners carry all their provisions in a 20-25 pound backpack through the Sahara Desert. In Aran’s backpack? Food (freeze dried spaghetti, chicken and rice, ground pretzels, power bars, hydration powder and electrolyte tablets), a pair of shorts, one shirt, a painter’s suit for sandstorm protection, an anti-venom pump, a sleeping bag, and a daily ration of nine liters of water.
Temperatures during the day can be as high as 120 degrees; night ushers in 30-degree weather. Sand dunes reach 1000 feet high, with a 90% grade. Sandstorms blow down the makeshift tents at night; during the afternoon, dinner can be “cooked” directly on the hot sand. The entry fee covers $150 for a body bag, and perhaps some assistance with your feet when they swell up to twice their normal size, which is often the case. And the prize for being the first one to make it through all of this? About six thousand dollars.
But it wasn’t about the money for Aran; it was about accomplishing something he set out to do, and helping others while achieving that goal. This spring, when he competes in the marathon again alongside his coach and friend Lisa Smith-Batchen, he is doing it to better himself. He is doing it to maintain what he has already recovered, and to push himself further in his recovery process. And he is doing it because he wants to continue to prove that he did not and will not accept the five-year plan diagnosed for him.
Today, Aran has control over his disease. Every eight to ten weeks he goes to the National Institutes of Health in Bethesda, Maryland for blood treatments. He will need blood therapy for the rest of his life. However, Aran doesn’t feel sorry for himself. But he does often ask “why.” He remembers thinking to himself when he was first diagnosed, “Why am I always trying to climb out of a hole? Oh well… here we go again!” And then, he says, he just had to wrap his head around it and embrace what he was going to do, and what he had to do.
And he did that again in the 50-mile leg (in one day) of the Marathon Des Sables, in the middle of the night, in total darkness and quiet. He laughs now as he describes the night as a “metaphor” for his whole ordeal – Aran had a good old-fashioned meltdown in the middle of the Sahara Desert. After yelling in anguish, pain and fear words that only absorbed into the soft sand like dull thuds, Aran picked himself up of the ground and thought, “Let’s get this done!” He says he ran to the checkpoint happy, singing along with his iPod.
Aran did not once accept his five-year fate. He has learned a lot, and others have learned from him. He quotes American writer Richard Bach, affirming, “You teach best what you most need to learn.” Perhaps another quote from Bach best sums up the “real” lesson that Aran’s story teaches: “Argue for your limitations, and sure enough they’re yours.”
With a knowing smile on his face, Aran says, “Keep rolling forward and look out over the horizon, and do not look at how choppy the water is or you’ll get sick.”
Ordinary, without a doubt, is definitely found within extraordinary.
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