Marie Fitzherbert Award for Perseverance

Marie Fitzherbert ran the Tufts Health Plan 10K for Women for 27 consecutive years, never missing a race from 1977 to 2003. In 2003, even while undergoing chemotherapy for lung cancer, she persevered to cross the finish line one last time. In honor of Marie’s determination and perseverance, this award singles out a runner each year for that same commitment to health, fitness, family, involvement in the community, and most importantly, perseverance through adversity.

Below please find the story submitted by Terri Butler, the 2008 winner of the Marie Fitzherbert Award for Perseverance.

I never heard of the Tufts 10k for Women until last week and until about six months ago, I'm not sure I knew how to spell Massachusetts correctly, but here's my story.

On Jan 9, 2004, I had a great life - a wonderful husband, beautiful children, great friends and a gorgeous home in the foothills of the Rocky Mountains in Fort Collins, Colorado. That day, I also had a small bone spur removed from the top of my big toe joint. It had been hurting more and more over the last couple of years during various workouts especially running and kickboxing. I chose this date because I was keeping my workouts easy after having my fourth child five weeks prior on November 29.

It was a good time to have my foot up, take some time off and enjoy the new addition to our family or so we thought. One week later, I had my first post-op appointment. Everything looked great. Three days later, I knew something was wrong. On January 19, I checked into our local hospital with an aggressive strep infection and it was attacking fast. I handed my 5 week old baby to my husband and was wheeled into immediate surgery. That night, the doctors didn't know if I was going to make it. I kept thinking about my poor husband - 4 kids including a brand new baby who never had formula or a bottle. My dad drove from Ohio through the night to get to Colorado to help Joe and the kids. (One of these days, I'm going to write a book titled, 'Two Men, 3 Kids and a New Baby')

The next day, I had my third surgery and they cut away more of my foot. They knew I was going to survive, but didn't know if my leg would. I spent the next 10 days in the hospital slowly fighting the infection. The antibiotics were working, but I still couldn't nurse my baby. I had to pump and dump my milk every 3 hours. I was in the orthopedic section of the hospital, not the maternity ward, so most of the nurses thought I was crazy, but most of them weren't moms yet. On January 30, I left the hospital with open wounds covered by a vacuum seal attached to a pump that ran 24 hours a day, sucking out any infection left. I spent the next three months going to the hospital everyday to spend time in the hyperbaric chamber and receive antibiotics through my pic line. I had a home care nurse every other day. I received countless meals from friends and had a full time nanny. Many people would think that a nanny would be a great thing to have. I was absolutely miserable. My kids were miserable. Our nanny was awesome. She was warm and caring, but she couldn't replace me to the kids and I didn't want her to replace me. I gave up my career to stay home. I chose to stay home after having my first child. I didn't want another woman to take my place now. I didn't want another woman to have control over my family. I didn't want to lose control. I didn't want my family to lose me. I didn't want to lose me, but gradually it was happening and I wanted to quit.

Over time, my open wounds healed. I did eventually resume nursing after getting the ok from Children's Hospital in Denver about which antibiotics I could take. Things were ok, but the pain in my foot never went away. With each step I took, and with four kids you take a lot of them, it got worse every day. I eventually could not take another day. I was so tired of the pain, tired of not being able to do things with my kids, forget the biking I loved to do with my husband, forget the running I wanted to get back to. I was just so tired of not being the person that used to be able to do anything. I was tired of no longer being the old me. I cried for that person every night. My physical therapist told me to say good bye to that person. He said I wasn't going to get better soon so I should quit thinking about running again and move on to something else. Biking, he said maybe in time, but running, to forget it.

One year later, I found a new orthopedic surgeon and literally asked him to cut my foot off. I couldn't deal with this any longer. I quit. He determined I had no cartilage left in the joint and that is why I was in so much pain. On March 30, 2005, I had my fourth foot surgery, two beautiful, shiny screws inserted, fusing my big toe forever. No more high heels or walking barefoot for me, but at least I was pain free. Three months later, everything was going great. I was slowly getting back in shape and doing more things with my kids everyday. We decided to take our first vacation together as a family of six and in August, I stepped in a hole and broke my big toe just above the fusion screws. I was so furious, sad and embarrassed. Why me? I can't deal with this. I quit.

Another year goes by, and I'm slowly getting back into bike shape. I rode the Triple Bypass, a difficult century ride in Colorado, for my sixth time, but my first time in 3 years. I finished the entire ride in the rain, but I was so happy to be on a bike again that it didn't matter what Mother Nature threw at me. And then in August of 2006, it happened again. I broke a little bone at the bottom of my foot along with a small tear in my tendon. Why me? I can't deal with this again. I quit. I am suffering, my kids are suffering, my husband is suffering, I quit, I just quit.

After another year of pain, in April of 2007, I again made an appointment with my orthopedic surgeon. I asked him what would happen if he cut off a couple of my toes, specifically my big toe and the long one next to it. Could I walk? Could I hike? Could I bike? Could I run? To all, he said no. It would mess up my balance. He said let's try a different approach and sent me to a partner of his. His partner created an orthotic with a little custom job to compensate for my fused foot. This helped tremendously, not only for my entire foot, but also for my knee and hip problems that were happening from walking with a fused foot.

With most of my physical problems behind me, I couldn't wait for the summer of 2007. This summer, I was going to get back to the old me. I am going to do so many fun things with my kids, my husband and my friends. I was completely shocked when my husband came home from work one day and asked, what do I think about Massachusetts? I replied with something like, "what do you mean what do I think about Massachusetts? It's a state somewhere on the east coast that I'm not sure how to spell." He asked, "What do you think about moving there?" I'm not sure exactly what I said, but I knew without a doubt that there was no way I wanted to move anywhere outside of Colorado. On December 22, 2007, the kids, the dog and I flew across the United States, landed in Boston and joined my husband in Massachusetts for our latest adventure. I thought all of my hard days were behind me. It never occurred to me how lonely someone could be when you don't know a single person in the entire state you are living in. I fought physical problems for over four years and now I find myself fighting an inner battle much harder than all of those years combined. I'm battling for four children who cry at night for their friends back home and me trying to encourage them to make new ones in their new schools. I'm battling for a husband who is busy at work trying to adjust to his new job and still trying to be a good daddy and husband. I'm battling an extremely cold winter and the urge to pack up and go home. And I am battling for me, the mom who is supposed to be the glue of the family, but who so desperately wanted to get back to that old me and now is the loneliest of people. I can't do this anymore. I just want to quit.

Summer is here. It happened quickly, but gradually. Gradually, my kids had friends. Gradually, my husband felt more comfortable with his job. Gradually, we unpacked our boxes and settled into our new house. Gradually, I put my GPS away when I drove around town. Gradually, I joined a health club, started working out and meeting people. And gradually, I started finding me. I put on a 'Livestrong' bracelet the day I checked out of the hospital over four years ago. To this day, it is still on my wrist. It reminds me of hard times, good times, and the old me in Colorado. I am not the old me and I will never be that person again, but I'm ok with that now. I started strong five years ago, but I am much stronger now.

Thank you to my new friends who I bike and run with, who show me which road to turn on so I don't get lost, who always greet me with a smile when they see me or my children and who told me about the Tufts 10k for Women. I can't wait to run with 7000 women. No matter what mile I'm on, no matter what the weather is like and no matter how much pain I am in, I will never quit and I will be smiling the entire time.

Thank you Massachusetts for welcoming us!

Sincerely from a new New Englander,
Terri Butler (which is now pronounced Butlah!)
Westborough, MA
Wife of Joe for 21 years
Mother to Christine 15, Rob, 13, Ashley 11 and Josh almost 5