Distance runner loses painful race, but he lived and died as a winner

In a world gone dizzy with celebrity, there isn't much interest these days in small lives.

Small lives aren't glamorous or marketable. They rarely make news. They're never asked to dance with the stars or preen for a reality TV show.

But every small life counts for something important, something greater than all the fluff and foolishness that float on the airwaves and splash in the tabloids.

Take the story of Michael McIntosh, for instance. By some measures, he had one of those small lives.

Michael aspired to high achievement in sports and was a gifted and dedicated runner. At 16, he was eager to compete at the state meet for Green Valley High School in cross-country in the fall of 2004. But circumstances would prevent him from reaching gold medal heights and superstardom.

Michael experienced intense headaches, but his athletic goals spurred him forward. As a precaution, Michael's mother, JoAnn McIntosh, took him to a doctor. Tests revealed a mass, which was diagnosed as an ependymoma, an aggressive brain tumor.

He would miss his cross-country meet and instead start a greater and more important race against time.

Michael would suffer greatly, then battle back. The tumor attacked his nervous system, wreaked havoc on everything from his voice to his ability to walk.

There would be 15 surgeries in all. There would be radiation and chemotherapy, and then the presence of bacterial meningitis. There would be the daily grind of doctors' visits and painful tests that are so much a part of the life of a brain tumor patient.

And, his mother says, there were opportunities to quit the race. Michael flatly refused. He had family and friends to be strong for. He had schoolwork to do, a diploma to earn, a seemingly small life to live.

Michael lived four months past his 20th birthday. He died Aug. 22.

"He had nerve damage after all the surgeries," JoAnn McIntosh says. "Then his nerves would heal up, and he went back to being himself. He was himself for about a full year or more. He knew everything that was going on with his care. He wanted to know."

Along the way, the happy-go-lucky kid taught his family and friends to be strong and to savor every moment.

"No matter how sick he was in the hospital, he would be in intensive care and couldn't speak, but he could text (message), and he would be talking to his friends," JoAnn says. "He kind of fed off that. He loved his family and his friends."

She pauses a moment.

"I really thought he was going to make it. He did, too. He had plans. He had big dreams. He always talked about what we are going to do when I get better."

A few days ago, I received an e-mail from Kristin Falkner, one of Michael's loyal friends. Kristin and her mother, Helene, visited Michael when he was in the hospital.

Kristin recalls, "He never gave up his fight for life, never wondered, 'Why did this happen to me?' He stayed strong for his family and his friends. He never gave up -- even at the end. His brain was working and he corresponded with people with a chalkboard because he could not speak anymore. He was an inspiration to everyone that knew him.

"He took every ounce of bad news with a sense of humor so no one would worry about him. He was truly amazing, he was a hero to all of us that knew him or knew about his battle, his will to live, his fight, his courage, his love of life and everything life had to offer."

Before he lost his voice, Michael uttered the words that had become his philosophy.

"Just remember, brother, if I pass, I will fight to the end," Michael said. "I want you to know that I will never give up, but if it beats me, just know that I gave it a hell of a fight."

"And he did," Kristin says. "He gave it one hell of a fight."

Michael's life reverberates with meaning even after his race has ended:

Live bravely. Hold your friends and family dear. Inspire by example. Be a star in the hearts of those you love.

And remember there's no such thing as a small life, only ones less advertised.

John L. Smith's column appears Sunday, Tuesday, Wednesday and Friday. E-mail him at Smith@reviewjournal.com or call (702) 383-0295.