My childhood friend Bill Hockensmith is stationed with the Coast Guard in Hawaii. I’m a newspaper editor in Maryland, where we grew up. We have a saying: “When facing a difficult task, act as though it is impossible to fail. If you are going after Moby Dick, take along the tartar sauce.” Every time Bill took a test to advance in rank, I’d e-mail a reminder about tartar sauce. He did the same for me when I applied for jobs, and when I trained for the JFK 50 Mile, a local ultramarathon, in 2007.
Two weeks before the race I got a different kind of e-mail. Bill had cancer. I kept him in my prayers. A few days later I saw tartar sauce packets at a food court. I grabbed two—one for race day, the other to send Bill.
Bill came home for treatment at Johns Hopkins. He said he’d be there on race day, and showed up at the starting line. I pulled my tartar sauce from my shorts pocket. Grinning, Bill unzipped his coat pocket, pulling his out.
I crossed the finish line in 9 hours and 26 minutes, over 30 minutes faster than my goal. Bill was waiting. I asked for his tartar sauce. “Take mine instead,” I said. “We know it works.” It did. Three years later Bill is cancer free.
