When I fell in love with running recently, I set out on this journey to run an unlimited number of races for causes that I passionately believed in. On Saturday, I ran in the Komen Race for the Cure 5k in Raleigh. The Meredith College campus was beautiful, although I will admit I didn't take the time to appreciate it the first go 'round during the Competitive 5k. I was too busy trying to survive the hills and was looking forward to the next sprinkler that would provide somewhat of a reprieve from the heat. My friend, Tonia, suggested that we also walk in the Recreational 5k an hour later in order to be among the survivors and other supporters, to continue our experience beyond the food and vendors and our earlier run. What a great idea! It was both inspiring and humbling to be among so many survivors of this terrible disease. As you looked around at the different "teams," everyone had a story, a loved one, a hope that brought them to that same spot as 25,000+ other people, fueled by celebration and/or memory, on that day. One team even raised $40,000 for cancer research, education, and preventative care!
In the weeks before the race, I solicited Facebook friends to provide me with the names of loved ones for whom they would like me to run "in celebration of" and/or "in memory of." I've never had a loved one diagnosed with breast cancer, but it is something I am passionate about due to its prevalence and the aware
ness that at any moment my distance from this disease could all of a sudden grow much closer than it is now. I was honestly unsure of how this would be received when I set this request as my status for a few days. I would like to think that I would provide a name of a loved one to someone else if they asked me. But part of me thinks that I might be selfish enough to refrain, maybe out of growing possessive of loved ones during their struggle. I imagine my thoughts might include, 'You don't know my grandmother, aunt, cousin, etc., so why would you want to have their name on your shirt?!' or 'You know nothing about what they went through or are still going through!' I'm embarassed to admit that, but it's true. Thank you to my Facebook friends who did not see this request in this light and allowed me to include your loved ones on my shirt.
ness that at any moment my distance from this disease could all of a sudden grow much closer than it is now. I was honestly unsure of how this would be received when I set this request as my status for a few days. I would like to think that I would provide a name of a loved one to someone else if they asked me. But part of me thinks that I might be selfish enough to refrain, maybe out of growing possessive of loved ones during their struggle. I imagine my thoughts might include, 'You don't know my grandmother, aunt, cousin, etc., so why would you want to have their name on your shirt?!' or 'You know nothing about what they went through or are still going through!' I'm embarassed to admit that, but it's true. Thank you to my Facebook friends who did not see this request in this light and allowed me to include your loved ones on my shirt. My hope was that having these names on my shirt would provide me with an extra incentive to push myself harder during this race. To block out the environmental factors like the hills and the scorching heat, to push forward knowing that there wasn't anything during 3.1 miles that would provide me as big of a challenge as those people on my shirt have experienced, or are experiencing, with cancer. To get in the "zone" and reflect on those people, my friends who had provided these names and think of how they were impacted by their loved one's experience with cancer as well. My final time was 29:47, better than my goal time of 31:25. But I still felt guilty that I didn't push myself even harder. There were times that I selfishly stopped to walk when I looked up and saw a huge hill in front of me, maybe not even attempting to run it. Other times running halfway and then stopping. I was looking for water again after I had just passed water. I was looking for the finish line after every bend in the road, only to find that it turned out to be even more road. I was thankful that my "struggle" ended at 3.1 miles. When
I crossed the finish line, I silently reflected on the fact that those people on my shirt would have gladly traded me 3.1 miles of hills and heat for their struggle. Many of them not knowing where their 'finish line' would be, but still pressing forward anyway with the same resolve as if the finish line was in plain view. Their course consisting of a far greater distance than 3.1 miles, much more sweat and long-term effects than my brief feeling of nausea after I finished.
I crossed the finish line, I silently reflected on the fact that those people on my shirt would have gladly traded me 3.1 miles of hills and heat for their struggle. Many of them not knowing where their 'finish line' would be, but still pressing forward anyway with the same resolve as if the finish line was in plain view. Their course consisting of a far greater distance than 3.1 miles, much more sweat and long-term effects than my brief feeling of nausea after I finished. The course weaved through residential neighborhoods along the outskirts of the campus as well. While we were walking the second race, we passed a house where a woman was sitting underneath a sign that read 'Twenty Year Survivor' as she cheered and waved at us. As we passed this house, a little girl walking beside me also noticed the sign and said, "Wow, she's been a survivor for almost three times as long as I've been alive." While I enjoyed the walk and joked around with my friends during this time, it was also a time of reflection and quietly observing others' experience of this day as well. This little girl's comment really put things into a new perspective, sent my mind wondering what the past 20 years have been like for that woman we passed sitting on her porch. Living each day, month, year wondering if the disease will return. Wondering if she will see children, grandchildren grow up. Witness marriages, birthdays, and graduations. Hoping for a cure during her lifetime so that experiencing these things seem more realistic than just wishing upon them.
It is impossible to describe the feeling of being among so many people who came together for the same cause. Especially in a time where hearing of wars and oil spills and politics that often divide so many people in opinion and values has become the norm. Not on this day. It was far greater than any of us individually. Breast cancer affects so many people--it doesn't discriminate and no one is exempt because of socioeconomic status or who you know. Many women are without access to preventative health care, which results in being diagnosed at a later stage, at which time fewer options for successful treatment are available. This should not be the case! We can all make a difference. Even if it's $30 to participate in a 5k or $10 donated through the website. Please excuse the cl
iche', but every dollar is one step closer to finding a cure for this disease, to providing preventative care to so many women without it, providing education on early detection, and research into a cure. We can all make an impact. Why would we not want to live in a world where we get to enjoy our mothers, sisters, grandmothers, daughters, cousins, aunts, friends, wives for as long as we possibly can?
iche', but every dollar is one step closer to finding a cure for this disease, to providing preventative care to so many women without it, providing education on early detection, and research into a cure. We can all make an impact. Why would we not want to live in a world where we get to enjoy our mothers, sisters, grandmothers, daughters, cousins, aunts, friends, wives for as long as we possibly can? I'm so thankful I was able to participate in this event. Healthy and with the ability to run and walk, unlike so many people who have lost their lives to this disease. I'm thankful for the people who provided me with the names of their loved ones and allowed me to walk "in memory of" and/or "in celebration of" them. Especially when someone's struggle with this disease can be so personal. And I'm thankful for my friends who participated in this experience with me, for putting up with all of my staged photos and following me on my quest for a Chick-fil-A sandwich, only to learn there were none.
I'm already looking forward to next year's race and I hope you will, too. I guarantee that you will leave with a renewed hope that the cure for breast cancer will be found during your lifetime.
