TRIBAL MEMBER NEWS
Yell Completes L.A. Marathon, Reaches Goal Despite Injury
Hello, my name is Tyler Yell. I
am 17 years old, a junior at McNary
High School (in Salem, Ore.), and a 2003
L.A. Marathon finisher.
Let’s start at the beginning, shall we?
After the marathon on March 3, I’ve
been asked the burning question of,
“Why did you run the marathon?”
For one, I’m not built for any of
those contact sports the school provides
for us, standing at a towering height of
5’6” and tipping the scales at a weight
of 130, who would be? But now when
I’m asked, I say, “I did it for my family.”
To me, at least lately, it seems that
I’m not one to really be noticed around
my family. I have my moments, of course,
but nothing special seems to stand out and
now, after my run, I can say, “I ran a
marathon.” To me, that’s more im
pressive then winning a million dollars.
I also did it to show all of them that
I could accomplish something I’ve
worked hard to do. We all have our
accomplishments. This is mine, and it’s
something that not even ’/ of 1 percent
of the population will ever do.
At the beginning of the year, I signed
up on the marathon team with 28 other
students. While running the marathon
was our goal, Mr. (Paul) Shuirman, our
coach, wanted to instill the importance
of school with those goals.
We were required to keep our grades
at a passing level and if they weren’t, he
would inform our teacher and the student
that he would give us three weeks to show
improvement, or a will to improve, or
we were cut from the team.
The team was a great source of
confidence. Each one of them had their
own unique trait that they brought to the
marathon team. Sadly, personal life,
schoolwork, or a lack of dedication
pulled out 20 members of the team,
leaving only eight, or maybe seven. I was
the shaky last member.
You sec, I’ve always had a problem
with math. No matter what I do, the
numbers just don’t seem to click and I
hadn’t been putting much effort into
math this year. Another requirement to
participate in the marathon was to have
passing grades at the semester. My math
grade was a very low D; the final exam
would decide my fate. If I didn’t get a 61
percent or higher, I wouldn’t be going
to the marathon.
I pulled together this great study
guide and stayed up late the night before
the exam in a desperate attempt to cram
the last information into my noggin. I did
everything possible to eat a good break
fast and get enough sleep, but even now
I don’t remember if I did or not.
My alarm rang that morning and I
was up like a bullet, throwing clothes on,
eating whatever was at hand, and rushing
to school. I got my friends to pump me
up before the first-period bell rang.
“You’re so going to pass this test. That
marathon is waiting,” they told me.
To make a long story short, I went
to class, took the test, and came back
after school to see if I had passed. My
teacher told me that I passed with a 68
percent. I could hardly stand. I had a
chance to go to the marathon. But the
qualifying 18-miler stood in my way.
We had about 5-7 races during the
year. The last one was the Cascade Half
Marathon, a 13.1-mile run through the
farmlands about 13 miles outside of
Salem I felt good that day, aside from a
slight kink in my knee. I was ready to
run and I did, quite well actually, until
the turnaround. The kink had grown
from an annoyance to a problem.
“You’re running too fast,” my body
was telling me. “Slow down!” I didn’t. I
ignored my knee and ran a continuous
four miles with two 30-second stops. I
got a good time, but my knee, or IT band
as I found out later, was in shambles. I
could hardly walk.
I went to the personal trainer the
next day and she advised me to do a
stretch that would loosen up my IT band
so that I could run without pain. I did
this stretch as much as I could. If I was
talking to someone, I was stretching. If
I was watching TV, I was stretching. It
was an obsession.
By now, a bad throat cold was going
around at school and I got it. It was three
davs before the 18-miler. I was para-noid,
drinking water, taking every medi-cine
known to man, sleeping well, eating. It
wasn’t good enough, I was just too sick.
By Sunday, the cold had let up some
and I got up early to run. I ate something
hot to maybe burn the virus out of my
throat, but it didn’t work. When I met
up with the team, I was feel-ing okay and
when the run began, I was actually
keeping the pace I had before.
The run went on and the stretching
proved to do nothing. My knee started
hurting, my sides ached from my
breakfast, and 1 was limping at the back
Tyler Yell (third from left) and the McNary High School marathon team members
who completed the NA. Marathon, plus Coach Paul Shuirman
of the team, trying to keep an upbeat
tone. One thing I learned from this
marathon is don’t push your body. It’ll
stop when it wants to stop.
I sat down on a bench to have some
thing to eat and try to do a stretch or
two so that my knee could keep the pace
I was at. When I tried to get up, I couldn’t.
My knee was tense and it wouldn’t
straighten out. I tried more stretches, but
I couldn’t walk, let alone stand.
That meant I couldn’t finish. Now,
if you didn’t finish this race, you weren’t
allowed to go to the marathon. I had
worked so hard to get so far and then to
be shut down by a knee injury — I was
crushed. I couldn’t even look at my
fellow team members as I passed them
by in the car going home. I cried like I
had just lost someone, like I was all alone
now. Until then, I didn’t know how much
it meant to be on that team.
Later that night after I had finished
my long cry, my coach called. I figured
that he wanted to tell me he still had my
clothes and to pick them up on Monday,
but he surprised me with two options.
“You can either try the 18-miler
again,” he said “Or you can come to L.A.
to be the manager of our team and keep
the kids in high spirits.” He told me that
1 was the heart of the marathon team,
that I was the “special one” wrho came
along every once in aw’hile, plus the team,
and his wife, convinced him to drop the
rules and let me go.
I said 1 would gladly be the manager
and I would try the 18 again. I never did,
though. He said that it would be better
for my knee if I just tried my best at the
marathon than to risk further injury.
So to make a longer story shorter
again, I went to the marathon. This time,
my other knee started to give me
problems and from mile seven on, I
walked. Since you use different muscles
for walking and running, I was aching. I
had never walked so far in my life.
But when 1 rounded the corner and
could see the finish line, my eyes filled
with big goopy tears and I saw my mom
and my grandma standing on the
sidelines, screaming for me to go, to go
and finish the marathon. My knee
stopped hurting and I ran to the finish
and let them put a medal around my
neck. There I was, standing in the mid
dle of L.A. w'ith a gold medal around
my neck, wondering how I did it.
People ask me now, “What vras your
time?” and I reply, “I finished, that’s all
that matters.” What 1 enjoyed most about
the past six months is the strong bond I
had with my team. Each one of them
gave me a big hug after they saw me in
the lobby, trying to stand up. I w*as proud
of each of them. They helped me finish
and I hope I helped them some way too.
I can’t tell you much about w7hat I
learned afterward, except that 1 can do
anything now. What do you think you
might learn after you’ve finished a
marathon? Try it, then get back to me.
Believe me, you can do it.
June 2003 □
Siletz News
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