Mosey For the Cure

There were so many thousands of people (10,000 I heard) trying to funnel into Mason for the Race for the Cure yesterday that we eventually abandoned our car in a McMansion subdivision and walked probably a half mile to the start.

The Enquirer has a great photo of the people/car anarchy.

As we were still walking in, we saw several friends run past for the chip timed event. My Tall Drink of Water attempted to find the chip line, but by then it was well after the start. For my part, I needed a snack and decided to hit the banana table and the port-o-potty before setting off on the three mile corridor of subdivisions and For Rent beige-brick office spaces.

I had intended to run some of the race, but it worked out well we were late because then Jen, Pat, TDW and I all got to walk together. We couldn't have run if we wanted to, we were in such a crush of people the entire three miles.

It was just as well. And more fun anyway.

When I first ran the Race for the Cure in 1998 or 1999 (I can't remember which), I didn't know anyone who had had cancer other than very old people, let alone anyone with breast cancer. Now I know several breast cancer survivors, including the wonderful Linda Maupin, who brought cherry jam to my house and told me, "Someday this will all be a distant memory."

The Race for the Cure is an emotional event. Everywhere around you are the names of survivors being celebrated on the backs of friends' and families' singlets, while the names of those who have died are written with "In Memory Of." Usually those names are more personal, like Mom, Grandma or Aunt Miriam.

Among the healthy runners and walkers raising money and honoring those who have lived and died are those women wearing pink hats and t-shirts, the survivors themselves. And sometimes, among them, you will see the ashen face of a woman undergoing treatment, identifiable by her hair burned out from chemo and the exhaustion and fear in her expression.

Since there are no 10,000-strong races for other cancers, Paul and I wore our Relay For Life t-shirts honoring his brother, Andrew, who will be gone a year this January. Maybe you saw us - we were the bright yellow in a sea of pink.