This week's Comedy Around the World remembers Memorial Day--in Bermuda.  Memorial day marks the remembrance of our military men and women and the sacrifices they have made for our freedoms.  But it's also a day where we can remember people who have helped us become who we are.  The ones who have helped us to accomplish certain goals.   

The person I remember today is Gus P.  He was a member of our Pittsburgh/Erie/West Virginia Team In Training Marathon program with the Leukemia Society.  Our team traveled to Bermuda one February to run in either the half or the full marathon.  In Bermuda that means you ran around the island either once or twice. 

It was one of those winters where the snow was piled high along the streets (people in Pennsylvania are asking, "Which winter was that?" Or perhaps they are asking, "Which winter wasn't that?").  One of our team members from Pittsburgh had to train on treadmills; the streets were too full of snow for both cars and runners to coexist. 

I had an easier time of it, running on country roads, packed snow, and snowmobile tracks.  And nice, cool, 30 degree weather.  It was paradise.  But Bermuda was deadly:  First of all, it was sunny.  And it was humid.  And it was in the 80's.  Most (read: normal) people would think this was a paradise.  For marathon runners it spells disaster.    

After my first lap around the island, I was completely exhausted.  Yes, I realize this was a marathon and that's what is supposed to happen to people.  But it was beyond that--I was barely hanging on to consciousness.  I had to actually stop and walk.  First time in over ten years of running every day, that I had to stop during a run.  

Gus P. saw what was happening.  Even though he was a veteran of ultramarathons (50+ mile races), he wasn't being competitive here.  He was being a team member.  He stayed with me during the whole race, and when I was forced to walk, he walked with me.  And--he took my hand when I was crying in shame at having to walk, having another lap around the island yet to go, having blisters on my feet and salt in my eyes (from the sweat, not the ocean), having heat exhaustion, having dehydration, and having a generally bad time of it.  

He walked with me, holding my hand, until we crossed the finish line, many, many hours later.  I think of Gus P. today and hope that I can measure up to that type of character.  Who do you remember today?  Share your comments www.yourshiningexample.com