Firecracker 5k Run for St. Jude

How the Firecracker 5k Got Started

On the Wednesday after Christmas 1998, Libby, a 47-year-old flight attendant, returned from a Northwest Airlines flight to Philadelphia. She wasn't feeling well.

"She came home thinking that she had the flu, just felt bad," Lynn, Libby's sister said. "Then the next morning, she stayed in bed all day Thursday because she felt so bad."

Her head was throbbing, so a doctor and family friend gave her some medicine. It didn't help, so about 8:30 a.m. on Friday - New Year's Day - Libby and her husband Dick went to Methodist Healthcare-Germantown.

That morning, doctors performed an MRI on Libby's head. They found a growth on the right side of her brain.

"They told her she had a mass in her head," Lynn said. "But I don't think Libby really understood that it was a cancer. I think she was kind of going, `Well, y'all can get it out, can't you?' It probably took her a day or so to kind of figure it out."

Susan Hedgepeth was new in her job as fitness director at the Racquet Club, having taken over the position that her best firend Libby had once held. She knew that she wanted to organize a race to benefit St. Jude Children's Research Hospital. She went to Mac Winker, her boss and the owner of the Racquet Club, and he gave his approval.

So Susan, aided by Libby, went about organizing the first Firecracker race. She contacted sponsors, had T-shirts made, did all the things necessary to spread the word.

Then came the news.

"We were in the planning stages (of the race), and literally, Libby came down with a headache," she said. "They put her in the hospital and found the mass."

On Jan. 5, doctors went into Libby's head and cut out the tumor. They also confirmed what they had suspected: It was glioblastoma multiforme, a fast-growing and insidious brain cancer that can double in size in less than two weeks.

It was a terminal condition.

Lynn, whose husband Mike is a physician, knew this immediately.

"I did and my middle sister Lee did, mainly because my husband had explained it to me. But the rest of the family didn't get it," Lynn said. "It's a lot to comprehend in such a short time."

After the surgery, Dick, Libby and Mike traveled to Birmingham to see a specialist, in the hopes that somehow, through some new treatment, the disease could be beaten. Lynn believes it was on this trip that Libby truly comprehended her condition.

"(The specialist) sat down and talked to Libby. My husband was real impressed with how sweet the doctor was. She held Libby's hands and said, `We usually don't hit home runs with this. But we're willing to try if you're willing to try,' " Lynn said. "I never saw her cry or feel sorry for herself or get mad. I couldn't believe how well she was handling herself. I believe in her heart, she knew."

The irony, of course, was that Libby was a fitness addict. She was a certified aerobics instructor and personal trainer and taught at Second Presbyterian Church, Q The Sports Club and The Racquet Club, among others.

"The day they told us, it floored us. She was a very health-conscious person. She taught aerobics for years and years," Dick said. "She was probably in her workout shorts and leotards as much as she was in her dress clothes."

In the midst of all this, with her best friend struggling to live, Susan still had a race to organize. And at the same time, the Kroger St. Jude tennis tournament - which demanded much of her attention - was under way at the Racquet Club.

Sometimes, she made it into her office at the club. Other times, she made her calls and did her work from Libby's bedside.

It was a very difficult time.

"I did a lot of work from the hospital room," Susan said. "Most of us were in denial. I knew in my heart Libby probably wasn't going to live, but I didn't want to think it. It was real hard emotionally, probably more than anything."

On Feb. 3, Libby slipped into a coma. Doctors, assuming the worst, told the family that she probably wouldn't revive.

"The family was called to the hospital. They let us stay in the ICU because they really didn't' think she was going to make it," Lynn said.

But Libby surprised everyone. A couple of days later, she started coming out of the coma. This certainly didn't mean she was cured, but, at least, it gave her family more time with her.

Libby spent the next several weeks in the hospital, with her husband, her sisters, her parents and Susan taking turns watching after her.

"All we could do at this point was feed her, take care of her, clean her, talk to her, hold her hand," Lynn said. "She lost a lot of muscle tone and muscle control. She couldn't feed herself anymore. She slept a lot. She had her eyes closed almost all the time. She couldn't write or read."

In early April, the doctors let Libby return to her East Memphis home. They knew, the family knew, even Libby knew what was coming.

Still, Libby, in pain and unable to move, survived for a few more weeks. But about 5:30 a.m. on May 7, she died in bed.

Four months after her first headache, she was gone.

In one of the unkindnesses life seems so fond of, Susan had to help bury her best friend while still organizing the inaugural Firecracker race just two months away.

And when race day came, a lot of people were thinking of Libby.

"We hoped she'd make it through the race," Susan said. "A lot of people knew her, and I think a lot of people initially became involved because Libby was so sick. Northwest flight attendants and pilots became involved because of Libby."

On race day last year, 850 people walked or ran. After the bills had been paid, the race raised $5,000 for brain cancer research at St. Jude.

This year, Hedgepeth is hoping 1,000 participants will walk or run and help raise at least $7,500 for the hospital. This year, one of those participants will be Lynn. And her sister Lee. And her family. And her neighbors and friends.

And anyone else Lynn can convince to run the race.

"I've never done anything like this before. Me and my kids, we've got the neighbors going," she said. "If Libby's death can (raise) awareness to other people or make it so that this doesn't happen to another family, (I'll) go for it. I'll run 100 miles, even if I have to walk them. I'll do it for Libby."