When Love Runs the Distance

When Love Runs the Distance

Tim Holmes

The Ashland Beacon

The quote, “Life is like a marathon, not a sprint,” popularized by Dr. Phil (Phillip C. McGraw), is a simple yet true statement with an array of rich implications—emphasizing endurance, pacing, long-term vision, and perseverance. Fifty-four-year-old Scott Balengee and his wife, Angie, of Catlettsburg had reached a point in life where they were running short of options with Scott’s health concerns. In spite of years of battling, worry, and exhaustion, Scott’s kidneys were failing, and it now appeared the end of his race was near.

After an illness in March 2025, Scott learned that his kidneys had only 8–10% of their function remaining. Dialysis was no longer a long-term option for his care. A transplant had to occur for Scott’s race to continue, and time was not on his side. The average wait for a deceased kidney donor is three to five years, but Scott needed a donor now. The timeline for a live kidney donor depends solely on finding a compatible match—whether a friend, family member, or, through certain programs, an altruistic stranger.

They started researching and, with their doctors' assistance, contacted the UK Kidney Transplant Center in Lexington, KY.  Right away they learned that his wife Angie was ineligible. Then Scott and Angie’s thirty-one-year-old daughter, Kelsea Balengee, knew exactly what she wanted to do. If she could possibly be a match, she decided she would be an angel swooping down beside her father during this weakened stretch of his marathon. And like something out of a feel-good movie, Kelsea heard the words, “Your kidney is a perfect match.” She didn’t hesitate: “I’ll give you my kidney,” she told her father.

Scott was reluctant at first, simply because he is a devoted father who didn’t want to create limits for his daughter’s race in life. In short time, the family agreed and moved forward with the process, which quickly picked up pace. The UK Transplant Center accelerated things further by adding Kelsea to the list in April, and the transplant was set for May 29. The procedure was a success, and Scott says, “I’m doing better now than I have in years.” Kelsea healed quickly, was back to work in six weeks, and truly was an angel for her father when he needed one most.

Prior to the procedure, Kelsea had been running her own set of literal races. She shared, “I was overweight much of my life, and I decided to simply run. So, I participated in a handful of 5K and 10K races, but now that the transplant was a success, why not run a marathon?” Kelsea had less than six months to prepare herself for the Marshall Marathon.

Race day arrived November 2, and Kelsea found herself on the starting line among more than two thousand participants hailing from forty-four states and seven countries—all preparing emotionally for the 26.2 miles ahead.She said, “I was so nervous I cried. Did I make a mistake? People who have never run a marathon do not realize how emotional the start and finish can be. I was literally sick to my stomach.”

Then she remembered why she was there. “I am doing this to prove to myself I can do it,” she said. She remembered who came to support her. Scott and Angie were there cheering her every mile, along with her sister-in-law Mary Griffith. Her brother, Brandon Griffith, was working but had the app that allowed him to track her every step. Her boyfriend, Joe Deskin—who had been present for all of her races—was there again and helped Kelsea take steps afterward. Lastly, she remembered her father’s words before the start: “Being tired is not an excuse to quit.”

And she was off.

Just like life, we may reach a mile marker that proves more difficult than the ones before—one where our options become limited and time stops being a friend. New pains. Heightened emotions. Worry and doubt flooding in. And at mile sixteen, Kelsea began to struggle. She was now in considerable pain. Her legs felt like jello and heavier with every step. Her feet and joints throbbed. It appeared that Kelsea had met her match, and the possibility of not finishing the race was real.

Then, out of nowhere, an angel swooped down by her side when she needed one the most. A female participant quickly introduced herself as Jennifer Maher, who, in that very moment, chose to run the rest of the race by Kelsea’s side as a means of support. She told Kelsea, “I’m going with you to the finish.” Kelsea recalls a piece of advice Jennifer gave her: “Forward is a pace.” Jennifer remained by Kelsea’s side for the remaining ten miles, but as they entered the stadium—where racers must run the length of the football field to the opposite goal to reach the finish—Jennifer stopped and simply told her, “This is your race.”

Out of 121 females, Kelsea finished 102nd. Among twelve females ages 30–34, she finished ninth. She now plans to run the Cupid’s Crush 5K in February and the St. Jude Marathon in Nashville.

Life truly is so much like a marathon—making the conscious choice to put one foot in front of the other, regardless of the pain awaiting at mile sixteen. Choosing to feel every emotion from start to finish. Being a support for someone in need is often repaid by another runner in life we may not expect. Perhaps what we are to learn from Kelsea is that we each can grow our own wings to swoop in as angels when others need support. It is this writer’s opinion that Kelsea is an example of someone who understands the value of pacing oneself—both in life and in a marathon.