I don’t have enough back to pin enough “in memory of” and “in celebration of” papers on my Race for the Cure shirts. This, is a very sad but true fact.
That is why I can’t seem to get enough of Racing for the Cure. It’s not just a 5K. And I don’t walk it alone. I carry a lot of peeps I love with me. They ‘aint heavy, they’re my sisters and brothers. Yes, men can get breast cancer, too. But no, I don’t just write breast cancer sibs on my shirt. I hate all cancer. I have friends with brain, cervical, kidney, leukemia, liver, melanoma, ovarian, prostate, thyroid… cancer on my shirt too.
The night before the race I like to spend some time thinking about all my way too many friends who are fighting or have fought the big damn C. It’s sweet communion as I write their names on my shirts. I think of some of them, resting in peace, and I feel lucky to have known them, to follow after them, to race in their memory. I think of the rest, like me, who are still running our race and I hope we win, and find a cure. Which makes me think of everybody else I know… which makes me run harder. Cancer is a bitch. Don’t want to write any more names on my shirt.
This race for the cure was special, because I ran it with my Mum, who is also a survivor, and my daughter Amanda’s friend Kiley, also a survivor (cervical). Even though I had genetic testing and was found NOT to carry the breast cancer gene, my Mum was diagnosed with breast cancer. Right before my very last-23/24-chemo cocktail. I know, it sucked, as much as it sounds. But she is doing well, currently also cancer free!
Here we are the morning of the race. On our marks, get set… but first, a publicity shot with sock monkey. And… Go! Here’s Mum and Kiley in the middle of the sea of pink. And it was a sea, at least 41,410 peeps deep. We took note of race numbers while we walked, to see just how many peeps were in this sea. 41,410 was the biggest number we found. There might have been more, but there were at least that many. Yikes. How cool is that? To walk with so many? To share in this fellowship? To be part of something so big?
I have no idea why this uploaded sideways. I tried it twice. Whatever. It is what it is. And, now that I come to think of it, somehow appropriate. I call it, “Caffeinated.” Although, truth is, I really wasn’t very caffeinated. First, it was freaking freezing out, so I was using the coffee as a hand warmer. And second, I was trying to be smart since we were racing and not potty dancing for a cure.
Here are a couple of cool random photos that I really loved from the race:
That tiny dot in the middle of my poor photo is a giant “PINK” elephant, courtesy of the Indianapolis Zoo! How freaking cool was that?! Luckily he didn’t trumpet and spray us all with water from the fountain of his trunk, because it was so cold the water would have turned into ice cubes and that would have been one hail of a mess.
Speaking of Save the Tatas, I superheart this foundation. As you can imagine, I especially connect with their sense of humor. And besides humor, in the fight against breast cancer, they promote awareness and fund cutting edge research toward a cure. Check them out at www.savethetatas.com. Use my discount code: “Shaken” at the checkout to receive 15% off your entire order!
#98 Save The Tatas Foundation
All in all, it was a hot race on a cold day. The only thing missing was pink SURVIVOR bracelets:(
Couldn’t find one anywhere. About froze my bum off looking for one to replace the one I broke last week. It’s funny how I sort of feel “vulnerable” without one on. Like a superhero without their cape or something. I’ve outlived 4 so far. Now, it’s become a challenge. Joules 4-Survivor bracelets 0. That’s right, I live hard.
All I can say is I hope they have them at the Race in Atlanta.
Well, the trail for pink SURVIVOR bracelets might have been cold, but boy oh boy, did the hot tub feel good after. Ahhh…
#99 Hot tubs
Despite the cold, I really like doing race for the cures. I like getting caught up in the fervor to end breast cancer.
#100 I like imagining a world without breast cancer.
I hope to see that reality.
For all the peeps not on my shirt.
And in honor of all my peeps on my shirt. Here are the credits, in no particular order:
Tiffany Romero Floth, Karen Wellington, Missy, Amy Inkrot, Sue Thompson, Shelly, Marty, Mum, Mary Kate Bourquin, Kiley, Maria Meyer, Yott’s Mum, Cathy Baker, her Mom, and Grandma, Uncle Bill, Auntie Cheryl, my friend Rebecca’s hub, Mary Janet, Kandi Castles Ferrandino, Roxanne, Ron, his wife Sue, and his daughter Amy, Kiley, her Mom Jeanne, Kristi Frazier, Monica, Heather Ray, Patty’s Mama, Mike’s Dad, Jennie’s Mom, Sonya Montemayor, Paige, Mary Jo Cropper, Savannah Hope Swandal, Leanne Davis, Janet Cross, Leah Hartlaub, Keith Gilbert, Mean Jeanne the machine (Megan’s Mum), Janice Hubbard, Kim O’Donnell, Katie, Rich, Big Joyce, Donna Scheffler, Nikki, Julie Garvin Luce, Cynci Wenck, MaryBeth Dupo, Crystal Tatum-Brown, Flora Melchionna, Alison Tarbell-Irwin, Christine Lalama, Linda Wimmers, Susan Fuchtman, Vanessa Tiemeier, Melissa Ward, Marcy Emmons, Rachel Marks, Anita Dalton Lupp, Don Boudinet, Krysti Hughett, Gail Konop Baker, Marilyn Teague, Anita Mason, Julie “Cruise” H., Anne “Etch a Sketch” E., Floyd Penrose, Leona, Sherry Kemper, Kim Wanamaker’s sister, Tracie Metzger, Tami Boehmer, Irmgard Allen, Patricia Fitzwater, Julie Butler, Martha Butler, Kathy Arsenault, Karen Dubois, Jill Davis Lamaster, Heddit Ott, Lou, Sheila Henderson, Phyllis, Carol Egenolf Bramlet, Lori Warner, Shelly Spate, Deb Mulligan, Stacey Karlosky, Charlene Staats Rack, Cyndi and Bill Walsh, Michael Hernandez, Debbie Smith, Jo, Ann who hates pink, Geralyn Lucas, Lance Armstrong, Daria, and me.
#101 the number of peeps I “walked with”
That’s… too many peeps.
Let’s… find a cure. Meanwhile, everybody else, stay off my shirt!