After we leave the clinic, we sit in Karen’s car and attempt to process what we have been told. There are tears, frustration, confusion and disbelief. Phone calls are made. More uncertainty, anger and fear. Finally a quiet moment brought on by exhaustion. The younger sister turns to her big sister and moans, “Oh great. Now I suppose this means I’m going to have to run in that damn race!” The first of many laughs at cancer’s expense.
(That race, if you aren’t familiar, is the Susan G. Komen Race for the Cure. It’s an annual 5K run/walk that is held all over the country with the money raised benefiting local breast cancer support services and research projects nationally.)
For the next six months more pressing concerns filled my mind and I forgot about the race. But sometime around Christmas I began to feel like I needed to do something. Yes, I’d been a support for Karen but that was something I wanted to do, something I couldn’t not do. For this, I needed to extend myself in making a difference.
“Oh great. Now I suppose this means I’m going to have to run in that damn race!”
My words kept resurfacing in my mind.
I said it as a joke at the time, but to be honest, there was some fear behind it. What do I know about this? What impact was this going to have on my sister's life? And on my life? Would I be one of those race participants who would need the special t-shirt that said “In Memory of”?
But why was I even considering it? I don’t run! I haven’t run since it was required in gym class for the Presidential Fitness Test. I struggle to breathe and my shins hurt. So why would I intentionally choose to run when no one has asked me to? Because it’s important and necessary. Because you’d have to work at it. Because you’d want to quit. Because it isn’t fun. Because it is a challenge. Because you need to do it.
Because you watched your sister face the unknown. Because she didn’t have a choice but to run and finish the race. Because it sure as hell wasn’t fun for her. Because you watched her come to you with a little wicker waste basket filled with a nest of her hair and ask for your help in removing the rest of it. Because you watched her embrace her new look and not feel bad about it. Because she kept having to give things up but kept finding things to take. Because she was forced to be resilient and manage lots of change and ambiguity when she prefers consistency. Because you watched her push herself through physical therapy to gain back her range of motion after surgery. Because you watched her do all sorts of things she didn’t want to do, but did with grace nonetheless. Because she ran the race for her life and finished boldly. Because if she can take on all of the challenges, changes and unpleasantness of cancer treatment, I can surely find a way to run 3.1 miles in a lead vest.
I’ve been ‘training’ for about a month now by mostly walking on the treadmill and trying to run for five to seven minutes each time. I am confident I could walk the 3.1 miles with no issues, but every time I try running for much longer it feels like someone is standing on my chest. Perhaps I am just not built for running. I didn’t go to the gym once last week.
Tonight I had wanted to go to an antique auction to bid on an accordion I had my eye on (don’t laugh), but I decided instead to buy myself some proper running shoes. Later, at the gym, I am thrilled to say that I ran for a mile! No boa constrictor. No lead vest. No one standing on my chest.
I found my breath.
I believed for the first time that I could actually do this.
I will do this.
The Race for the Cure is an event for everyone. There is a 5K run/walk, 5K wheelchair race, 1K walk and a kids’ fun run. And, for those who don’t want to/are unable to physically participate there is even a “Sleep In for the Cure” event.
My intention had been to enter individually, but I’m wondering if any of you would be interested in forming a team with me (The Piranhas?!) . The team can be composed of anyone participating in any of the events – even the Sleep In! We can set a fundraising goal for ourselves and see our progress charted online. You would have exactly two months from today to train!
The Race is on Sunday, May 11th. (Oh crikey… the run starts at 7:30 a.m. That may be a bigger challenge for me than running 5K! Ugh.) The walk begins at 9:00 a.m. Registration is $25 if you sign up by April 19th. For more information, click here.
If you are not in Minnesota and would like to participate, please check with your local Komen chapter for event information. Click here for a link.
A Wurlitzer accordion…
who wouldn't want one?
My new Mizuno Wave Riders...
(Mom, watch how fast I run!)
