Richard Obert
The Arizona Republic
May. 7, 2004 12:00 AM

PAYSON - In his heart and in his head, she is there, watching him run, watching him cross the finish line, a smile so deep and true that it makes all the pain disappear.

Then, Payson High sophomore Jonny Malloy comes home to find his mother, with those big brown eyes, her chestnut hair down to the small of her back, in bed, slowly withering from Amyotrophic Lateral Sclerosis - ALS, or Lou Gehrig's disease.

And it hurts again.

"I see the fear in the eyes, and I want to take that away," says Annemarie, 36, a once athletic, energetic woman who the neighborhood boys would beg to come outside and play football with them.

Jonny pulls up a chair next to her and describes his races, which range from the 400 meters to two mile. Every minute detail. It doesn't matter if he finished at the end of the pack. She smiles at the images.

"When she gets down, I can tell her what I did," Jonny says. "I try to make her feel like she was there. I can see it lifting her."

It's been six years since Annemarie was diagnosed with the fatal disease. She is bed-ridden, her body being ravaged. She can eat, but only small quantities. She has good days mixed with bad, but lately the days have gotten worse. And depression takes hold.

"That's the hardest part," Annemarie says in her tiny voice. "It's harder than the illness. I used to hide it if I felt bad. I'd tell everyone, 'I can do it. I'm fine.' You can't do that anymore."

The mind is sharp. The soul fights to survive. The will takes over.

She owes that to her husband, Bill, and two sons, Daniel, 19, and Jonny, 15, her support system. Bill, 39, commutes to the Valley for his construction work. Work has allowed him to cut back his hours so he can care for his wife.

Daniel, who graduated from Payson two years ago, works at a drugstore and goes to school at the Payson-branch of Pima Community College.

He ran track and cross country more as a means to escape, like Jonny does now.

"She has her ups and downs," Daniel says, "but she's happy with what she can do now. She knows it's going to be worse, but she's thinking about people other than herself."

Jonny mows lawns and makes A's. He is sitting on a B in pre-calculus, but he takes it in stride, as he takes turns with the others cooking meals, cleaning the house, sitting at his mother's bedside. They watch movies with her, crack jokes, do anything to distract her from what she's got.

"They're there 100 percent of the time for me," Annemarie says. "I have that. If I didn't have that, I probably would have let go a long time ago."

But they all hang on in the small trailer house up the hills near the water tanks.

"I try to just be there for her," Jonny says. "It's more to help her emotionally."

Very few know about the family's ordeal.

Jonny's closest friends on the track team don't know. Daniel has allowed only a few of his closest friends in on it. They are protective of their mother, and they don't want her to be exposed to anything that would cause her stress.

Annemarie is proud, so much so that there are times when she doesn't want her own children to see her.

"She doesn't want to worry people, I guess," Jonny says. "You don't have to shield that. She thinks by being shut away a little bit it will make us less worried. But it's the opposite. We just tell her, 'We want to see you the way you are.' "

For the longest time, Daniel tried to shield Payson track coach Chuck Hardt from what was going on at home. Finally, he had to explain why he would sometimes be needed after school.

"He would practice for two to three hours with us, then (relieve) little Jonny (at home)," Hardt said.

It could take an emotional toll on children, but it hasn't with the Malloy boys.

"I think that's testimony to the mom and dad," Hardt said. "They kind of understand what the priorities should be."

Annemarie is thankful for Hardt, who helps kids do more than win medals.

"Whether you're great at track or not, you've got to have that emotional stability and toughness to overcome those things that come along," Hardt said. "It just came natural for them."

Annemarie's parents, Jerry and Rosie Giffen, who live in Phoenix, are not surprised how their grandsons have matured and bonded through tough times.

"They're always ready to defend their mother," Rosie says.

And they defend each other.

Daniel works the stopwatch and cheers for his brother during his races.

They lean on each other for support.

And they've mostly forsaken a social life to be there each night for their mother.

"I just think it's more important to be there," Jonny says.

Two years ago, Mom was there for Jonny. Annemarie needed a walker to get around. She was late attending his eighth-grade graduation ceremony and missed Jonny collecting his diploma.

Once a beaming Annemarie arrived, Jonny was put back on the stage to receive his diploma again. He reached over and gave his mother a huge hug.

They cried.

"It breaks my heart that I can't be there for his track meets," Annemarie says. "That's the hardest part."

Jonny doesn't know if his mother will make it to his high school graduation.

He just wants to see the pain disappear.

That would be the sweetest finish