Run for Conor

While searching for 5K races the other day, I stumbled across a webpage that stopped me in my tracks.

It is the story of Conor Lynch.

A model student and high school athlete, Conor Lynch was running with his cross country track team in the Los Angeles suburb of Sherman Oaks last October when he was hit and killed by a car. Only 16 years old and a junior in high school, he died at the scene.

A story like this is so unspeakable, as a human being it's difficult to find words to do it justice.

While reading Conor's story, I was reminded of the dire statistic that 9 out of 10 people who get hit by a car as a pedestrian do not survive.

And although our outcomes were different, the story is eerily familar.

I was hit by a car as a pedestrian 3 1/2 years ago around the same time in the afternoon, at a similar time of year, on a similarly idyllic neighborhood street, and likewise, by a similarly distracted driver.  After reading about Conor and, I admit sobbing for some time, I realized something profound. I felt a connection with this young man not only because we both got hit by cars. But because we were both Runners.

There's something about the running community that bonds us all together. If one of us goes down, we all feel the pain. If one gets left behind, we wait for the person at the next corner to catch up. Yes, even if we'd rather be selfishly training for time. It's just what we do. Therefore, it pains me there is nothing that any of us can do now for this young man.

Or is there?

A visit to Conor's public memorial Facebook page shows that he was so loved by his parents, brothers, aunties, teachers, coaches and many friends (more than 7,000 of them!), one gets the sense that his death has left a gaping hole that may never be filled. But by all accounts, I also get the sense he would want us to lace up our shoes and take the first step and at least try.

So, for starters: I'd like to encourage my friends in Southern California to join me in running (or at least supporting) the Conor Lynch 5K this October 16th to honor this young man and the winning spirit he embodied.

Beyond race day, I'd like to make a personal plea on behalf of Conor, myself, and the more than 500,000 people who are killed or seriously injured each year by distracted drivers:

Those of you who still text and drive, or who have friends who still text and drive (or Facebook and drive, Tweet and drive, check your e-mail and drive, or simply cellphone and drive), please share this story. Tell your friends. Post it on your Wall. Tweet it. (When you're not driving, of course). Put a face with the name. Look at this picture. Then ask yourself: could you live with yourself if you took the life of a young person like this with so much promise? Don't think it couldn't happen. It's exactly what could happen. It happens every day in our communities. It could happen tomorrow on your way to work. It could happen tonight on your way home. On your next conference call in the car. Believe me when I say, it can happen in the blink of an eye.

Hang up and drive. Because the truth is that other than participating in this inaugural run, sparing another human life is the best way you can honor the life and memory of this champion, who is no doubt running across the finish line in Heaven. 

Rest in peace, Conor.