"The Big Climb"

By Jerry Zezima

As a geezer who can barely make it up the dozen steps in my house without getting winded, I never thought I would make it up and down 2,500 steps at a baseball stadium without keeling over, being carted off the field and finishing the season on the disabled list.

But I somehow survived the big climb — and got a medal for my efforts — as the oldest guy to complete the Big Climb, a fundraiser for the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society, the world’s largest nonprofit funding organization for blood cancer research.

The event, which featured about 1,100 participants, was held at Citi Field, home of the New York Mets, who should bring me back for Old-Timers’ Day.

When I told Big Climb Metro New York organizer Gabriella Cowlan that I’m 70, she exclaimed, “Wow! You’re an inspiration.”

“You mean a perspiration,” I replied. “But I know I can sweat this one out.”

Gabriella, who’s 26, smiled and said, “Have fun. And stay hydrated.”

The first inkling I had that the Big Climb would be a big challenge was when I got my official number, 9489, which was printed on a large tag.

The guy at the sign-up table said, “Write the name of an emergency contact on the back.”

“In case I need an ambulance?” I stammered.

“I’m sure that won’t be necessary,” he said pleasantly. “Good luck!”

Up in the stadium plaza, I saw throngs of people waiting for their turn to climb. Groups went at 15-minute intervals beginning at 8:45 a.m. and ending at 12:15 p.m.

My group wouldn’t go until 11:30, so I walked over to the food and beverage booth and took the last banana.

“Now you can say, ‘Yes, we have no bananas,’ ” I told volunteer Joe Carbonaro, who chuckled and said, “Don’t slip!”

A few minutes later, a voice over the loudspeaker instructed the 11:30 group, which numbered about 40, to assemble at the entrance to Sections 516-517.

“I suppose taking the elevator would be cheating,” I said to group leader Tom Leyendecker.

“Absolutely,” he responded. “But if you fall, we’ll push you over the railing. People with shovels are on the field.”

Like many people I met at the Big Climb, and like several people in my family, Tom is a cancer survivor.

“I had acute myeloid leukemia in 2012,” he told me. “And I’m still here. That’s why I’m happy to help out at events like this.”

Inside the stadium, the group gathered at the bottom of a short flight of stairs leading to the stands. That’s where I met Betty Peek.

“Like peekaboo,” said Betty, adding that she’s 70.

“Me, too!” I chirped. “When is your birthday?”

“In March,” she answered.

“Mine is in January,” I said. “Looks like I’m still the oldest one here.”

Betty smiled and said, “We’ll put those young ones to shame.”

She put me to shame by passing me halfway through the grueling event.

At one point, I came to a water stop, where volunteers were offering small cups of refreshment to pooped participants.

“No beer?” I said.

“Sorry,” a young woman answered with a grin. “We’re all out.”

Cheerleaders with pompoms urged us on.

A young volunteer noticed me huffing and puffing and said, “You got this!”

Another one said, “You’re almost there.”

“Where? The hospital?” I wondered.

After half an hour, I made it down the final flight of stairs and crossed the finish line. I was the last member of our group to complete the course.

“I thought we were going in alphabetical order,” I told staff member Clara Leyendecker, Tom’s daughter.

“I am so proud of you!” said Clara, who gave me a blue medal.

“It’s better than the gold,” I said, happy that I helped to raise $385,000 for the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society, which accepts donations on its website: LLS.org.

As I was leaving, Gabriella congratulated me.

“You did great,” she said.

“I feel great,” I told her. “But when I get home, I’m going to climb those dozen steps and take a nap.”

Copyright 2024 by Jerry Zezima