38 Minutes
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| (left) my running partner Stacy (top right) good friends with a cause (bottom right) my ostomy bag for race day: A strong person is not the one who doesn't cry. A strong person is the one who cries & sheds tears then gets up and fights again. |
Breast Cancer is a cause close to my heart. Between my own family and several of my friends, I could have filled up several "Running For" bibs with their names. I would've run out of body to pin the bibs to so I chose not to wear one. However, the one person who always comes to mind when breast cancer is the topic is my late, great friend Jatawn. She was 40 when breast cancer claimed her life.
Her battle began late in 2003 with another occurrence and in early 2004, she received news that there was nothing they could do this time, all of her options were exhausted. This marked the beginning of the end for her. That summer we (her family and friends) rallied around her, taking care of their home and meals so her hubby and 2 kids could just focus on her. It was a heart-wrenching time. Watching someone die is not like in the movies. It's horrible and painful. There are no Beaches scenes here, only hospice calls and moments of complete helplessness as you watch someone you love struggle against the inevitable.
I began my own battle that summer too. I was experiencing the first symptoms of a disease I didn't know existed. In late July I was diagnosed with Ulcerative Colitis and in early August Jatawn passed away just 2 weeks after her 40th birthday. The stress of her dying was the catalyst that brought this disease front and center in my life.
As I ran through the streets reading the name bibs on the backs of my fellow runners, I was so saddened by how many people are effected by this terrible cancer. At least UC wasn't terminal. At least there is a cure, albeit you have to give up your colon, but still--it's a cure. I am grateful for my ostomy, as I've said before, it's given me a 2nd chance a full life. This really hit home as I pounded the pavement. Sure, my friend gave up a body part to save her life too, but it wasn't enough for her disease.
I am not a big show-er of emotion. It makes me very uncomfortable to cry in front of others and I will do almost anything to keep from crying in public. Only a handful of my closest friends have seen me truly shed tears. All this is to say: I had a very hard time keeping my emotions in check at the race. Beginning at the Starting line, I could feel the knot in my throat. It was a surreal moment to be lined up for a race when less than a year ago a trauma team was huddled over my hospital bed checking my vitals and giving me meds to make me breathe again. Every step I took reminded me of how far I've come. I wanted to cross that finish line with every fiber of my being.
As we made our way through the course, people were stationed outside their homes with signs cheering us on. Some even had banners draped across porches and fences for loved ones who lost their battle with the dreaded disease. It was moving and a big dose of reality. A man ran past me, probably in his late 60's, and on his bib was his daughter's name. I know this because it listed her name and then below it was written "My Daughter". A parent should never, ever have to bury their own child. It's not how life is supposed to go. I have no idea if his daughter is living or not but it still touched me deeply. My prayers changed from "God, help me get through this race to God, please be with each and every person who is fighting for the life of a loved one or for their own life."
When we rounded the final corner and the finish line came into view, I could no longer keep my emotions under control. The last few minutes stretched before me in a tear blurred haze. My friend and running partner who finished a few minutes ahead came back and ran with me to the end. It was my breaking point. I sobbed all the way across the line. I did it and now, I could put a big red check mark in the box by "Complete a 5K" goal.
The tears that kept flowing were a mixture of excitement, relief and even a bit of sadness. I was excited to have actually completed something I wanted so badly and relieved that I was able to do it too. My doubts of ever doing this were a huge mountain that I just scaled in 38 minutes. All the hard work paid off. A little sadness tinged the edges of my happiness though, the memory of my friend who was my age when she was given her pink slip for life. I ran that race not just for myself but also for the life she will never finish.
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