AS IF I NEEDED another reminder of the ephemeral nature of human life, I got one this week.

My friend Michael Parker, runner, trainer, and all around good guy, passed away a few days ago from cancer. The same cancer that ended the life of my wife in June. The news hit me pretty hard because he has two young kids, who deserved to have a father like him around a lot longer.

What is there to say? Thoughts and prayers? How about, cancer sucks, life isn’t fair, and all we can do is acknowledge that and move on. And remember the good they brought to my life, and to others. I’m looking forward to sharing stories about Joyce at her life celebration in November. And because Michael was a positive influence in my life, I’d like to share a few stories about him here.

I met Michael, appropriately, during a Saturday club run. Near its end we ended up running together, and had a casual conversation. I learned he had been a smoker earlier in life, until he decided to turn his lifestyle around. He told me the way he quit. “Whenever I felt the need for a cigarette,” he said, “I drank a glass of water and went for a walk.” And now he was running marathons. He said his finish time was around 3:30.

“I wish I could run a 3:30 marathon,” I said. I had run just two at the time, neither of them close to that. “Oh, you could,” he said. “Definitely.” I had to wait a bit to test that, as ultras called me away from the 26.2, but in 2016, I ran the Martian Marathon in 3:26, qualifying for Boston in 2017, which I ran in 3:27. He was right!

Yep, that’s snow! Cold on Mars, you know. And April in Michigan.

And as things turned out, he was part of my athletic pursuits in other ways. In 2014, for whatever twisted reason, I decided to do the entire slate of races put on by RF Events. That was 23 events, running 5Ks to ultras (6!), a snowshoe race – and three sprint triathlons, which I was most nervous about, as I hadn’t swum any distance for many years. His wife Chrissy helped me with my swimming form, while I attended a triathlon clinic he put on. The result? Three solid, if not spectacular, finishes. That didn’t matter. I was a triathlete!

And in December 2015, I signed up for a gait analysis at Eastern Michigan University’s Running Science Lab. Basically, they stuck sensors all over me and put me on the treadmill, evaluating every aspect of my body when it ran. They also did chemical analysis of my exhalations to determine how I was using the oxygen I took in. And guess who was part of the team doing my examinations? Yep.

The result? My VO2 max, which measures how much oxygen gets to my muscles, was nothing extraordinary. But my running economy, which measures how well my muscles use the oxygen they do get, was off the charts good. Literally. “I’ve never seen a number like this,” the professor said. This was consistent with my performance. VO2 max wins short races, but it’s running economy that gets one through ultras.

Well, Jeff, your form looks fine, but maybe you should gain a little weight…

As for my gait, they noticed a little bouncing, and according to the data my ankles were highly susceptible to injury. When I told the professor I ran ultras without trouble, he shrugged and said, “In that case, don’t change a thing.” So I haven’t. But I do ankle strengthening and flexibility work every time I’m at the gym.

Michael was initially diagnosed with colon cancer around the same time my wife received her diagnosis in 2017. Both of them underwent successful surgeries, and we all hoped both were cured. Unfortunately it was not to be. Joyce’s cancer reappeared in 2021 in her liver. For a while it responded well to chemo, and in late 2023 we were hoping a new treatment would keep things under control. Which is when I ran into Michael for what proved to be the last time.

Early last November I went to work the Bonfyre Trail Fest, and on a whim I decided to run the 10-mile race. And just a couple hundred yards down the trail, I saw Michael ahead of me. I caught up and asked him how things were going, expecting all to be well. I was not prepared for his answer.

“This could be my last run,” he said.

His cancer had also returned, and in a few days he would have surgery to find out how bad it was. While it was not his last run, I believe it was his last race. For a while he continued to train his athletes and post beautiful nature photos on Facebook. But he also confessed that the cancer was slowly eroding his life. “Cancer is a thief,” he wrote. I couldn’t agree more.

Our last correspondence was regarding an experimental treatment he was trying. Joyce had run out of options, and he gave me the name of the drug he was on. I forwarded it to her oncologist, who said it would not help her, and she passed a couple weeks later, but I really hoped it would work for him. I am so sorry it did not. My sadness for Chrissy and their kids is tempered by the strength she showed in her announcement of his passing. They’ll be okay.

Live every day, my friends. Fiercely, and with purpose. And never let those you love forget that you love them.