No apologies

The sun is setting and the temperature is dropping outside. Here in Western Washington we are expecting 2 storm fronts to hit us within the next few days bringing record snow levels with it. This after a weekend of snowing. I started the week on a high. It’s beautiful outside, I ran a half marathon in the snow that I’m somewhat proud of,  there is a wonderous smelling soup stewing on the stove and I made it to work without unintentionally spinning down the road. I end this monday ashamed of myself though.

We were released from work early, so I headed to the grocery store for a couple quick ingredients to make that wonderous smelling soup. I parked carefully still scared from my spinout last winter. The news reports over two dozen weather related accidents this year and the weather simply scares me. After I got out of my car, I saw what I initially thought was one guy holding a sign and a mountain of stuff on his back. Turns out the “mountain” included another man standing next to him.  In the few moments it took to realise this I realized that they were both probably homeless men and both would most likely be out in the rough elements that make up this weeks weather.

I thought about how cold I was during the 2nd half of my run on Saturday. 1.5 hours in snowy weather that I had hoped would hold off a few hours longer than it actually did. I thought of my friend Carol, who ran with me using hot hands in any place she was able to put it. I thought of the other friend who ran us who thought she might have narrowly missed frostbite and I thought of the situation of these two guys. I’m ashamed to admit I looked away. I am ashamed to admit that I choose not to go to the store they stood in front of that I wanted to go to because I didn’t want to walk past this with the few groceries I had, but was unwilling to share. I justified it by saying that my income is still slim enough that I really shouldn’t give what I can’t actually afford to share because it should go into my savings. But I arrived at home and realized that one of the stops I made in between the first and next time I avoided eye contact with these gentlemen I also stopped to pull some cash to send a friend as a gift. Because my life has been so fortunate and theirs have not. I justified it by saying I was scared. Two older men begging on the street and I was a young woman alone.

Why didn’t I have the same fear when the young black man pushed his window washing services on me yesterday at the Gas Station? He was most likely stronger and definitely more angry than either of these men appeared and yet these were the ones that I feared. It’s dark now and I can’t see my backyard. It’s approximately 36 degrees outside and my soup is bubbling away warmly behind me and I wonder what these two guys are doing to stay warm. Have they eaten today? What stopped me from at least giving them gift cards for Panda Express? Or the loaf of bread in my bag? It’s easy to fool yourself into thinking that homelessness and hardships are found in other areas. That you’ve isolated yourself in this bubble that hides many of the troubles of the world and then reality hits you.

I came across a Facebook update recently that encouraged poor behavior in their readers in response to the subject’s own behavior. Not uncommon when you think about it in a generality. The problem was that the poster had some notoriety and the issue in question did not inflict the behavior on them personally. This same story was picked up and re-broadcast via local news source. Now maybe I’m a bit old fashioned, but when did the rules of society change in that we must all sink down the lowest common denominator? When do small everyday incidents become big news that must be rebroadcast on every social outlet available to us?

In the same stream, another friend talked about the absence of anti-bullying laws in the state of Michigan. She’s concerned for the safety of her child as he finds his way in today’s society. But if this is the world he will grow into, are her efforts in vain? While we may not be saying it out loud, kids today are learning to mimic their adult counterparts not only by direct deed, but via idle comments and actions. Those little actions, that in themselves, may not seem harmful but when coupled with the actions and words of others paint a picture for the developing minds of our children that certain types of behavior is alright. Little boys wearing shirts that call girls icky, and equally precocious girls singing songs like Super Bass or Single Ladies containing lyrics impossible for her to understand. We call it cute or adorable and record videos posted to YouTube when our kids mimic adult behavior, but when do we cry foul and make it stop? Do we automatically say a little boy with a preference to Dora the Explorer versus her cousin Diego is automatically gay, but not that little girls with an affinity for cars and trucks above tiaras and tutus aren’t called butch?

We’re not advocating violence. Too many people are defending their actions and their thoughts. No one said you don’t have a right to them. Certainly, some behaviors should be admonished. But when did society change the rules to say that it’s okay for our news outlets to begin outing that poor behavior like some bad society column. It’s like reality TV has taken a twist in the real world. How people don’t see that poorly worded and rude comments are somewhat violent in their nature I don’t understand. Abuse is abuse whether it’s verbal or physical and none of us should put up with it.

edit – The story takes an even more bizarre change as the day goes on. Turns out the person being defamed isn’t the actual one who committed the offense. Can we say oops? Call him a dickhead if you want. Say it behind his back, in your private group of friends, but be careful how it spreads or the chances are you’ll end up on the foul end of your poor choice.

Into this world, you brought beautiful children who have enriched the lives of everyone they touch. They smile brightly and you can see the joy behind their eyes when they smile and laugh. You taught them this. To enjoy life and do everything with joy. They are inquisitive creatures who are very rarely afraid to move forward into new areas. You taught them to be bold and sure of themselves in all they do. To be confident and staunch in their beliefs. They are thoughtful souls who know how to show affection for those they care about, and exhibit morals that many people fear are missing in today’s society. You have a bright brain that thinks fast. You are opinionated and not afraid to show that. You’ve past all these traits onto your children who continually amaze those around them as they accomplish new things.

You have learned, over the years, to cook delicious food. At the elbows of your elders, you’ve learned to craft ethnic delicacies and everyday comfort foods. You’ve had some hiccups in the learning process, but it’s never stopped you from moving forward and trying again. And again. And again. Whether it’s the enjoyment of a good meal or getting the satisfaction from knowing that your hands crafted something that made people happy, it’s a task that never disheartens you. Friends, family and acquaintances know how you enjoy the art and make no qualms of showing their appreciation.

With all of this, I never fail to be puzzled at your insecurities. Why you distrust those closest to you and the disbelief that those same people will be there should you need it. Why you feel you need a mate to lean on and show you affection that is showered on you from so many other directions. Why you don’t believe enough in yourself and your abilities to let your strengths shine through. I believe in you. You are so akama’i with brains to spare. Even if you don’t believe it, I do. I think you hide your intellect behind your fears and wish you wouldn’t. Others believe in you and the things you can do. I won’t dwell on shoulda-woulda-coulda’s. Your life hasn’t been the easiest, but did what you could with it. Maybe it’s those hardships that waylaid you on your intended path. Maybe the choices were too hard and when you need help the most you either didn’t know how to ask for help or recognize the help you were getting. You did what had to be done because there was no other choice. Whatever it was, that’s the past and we can’t change it even if we wanted to. What you can do is move forward. Make informed choices and be the person we all know you can be. Be as strong as we know you can be.

This was supposed to be a post first 16 mile run report. Talking about how great it felt and how I finished. But instead, I let the demons in my head conquer me and didn’t run. I have lots of excuses – Doing my assigned waterstop as a mentor meant that my time got pushed off. A visit to my regional passport office AFTER that left me frustrated. I then had to deal with extra traffic due to a bridge closure that had me even MORE frustrated because on top of that I realized that I’d needed to pee for three hours and hadn’t eaten anything substantial yet (at 3pm). All while the idea that I had to run a 4.5 hour practice long run all by myself floated in the back of my head. Being upset and the anxiety issues I had dealing with my passport left me exhausted by the time I got home. I went in, ate something with the thought that I was still going to do it. I was going to lace up and hit the trail. After I ate so I was properly fueled. But the reality in it was that I was afraid and let it conquer me. Justin sympathized with my day and told me that it was ok. Just run tomorrow (Sunday) which made sense. I could do that and still be ok. But Sunday came and went. We got home from our morning plans and I sat on the couch and hyperventilated. I was afraid again. More excuses ensued. My running partners were all busy, the planned route was actually shorter than I had thought meaning it wasn’t going to simply be out and back. I’d be playing loop de loop. I would be out there on my own, despite my preference for the cooler weather and I was afraid. Afraid of the distance, afraid of being alone and all of those everyday frustrations of life that runs help with heaped on top of it. Justin was great. He poked and prodded and kept reminding me that I needed to go run. That time was running short for when running outside for that long would be safe. He even volunteered to meet me at my half way point to be waterstop in case I needed extra. He later revealed that after doing that he had planned to go run out and grab me a special dinner to surprise me.

 
But this morning, I sit here at work hoping that no one stops by and asks with a smile how my run went. I sit here without the painful, yet happy aches that comes from accomplishing something great. I sit here without the smile that I get from reading the likes and comments that come from posting a great weekend long run from my compadres on Dailymile.com, Nike+ and Facebook and I castigate myself. I still feel that anxiety in my chest that comes with the fears of a long run that I’ve not accomplished. I’ll try again tonight for a good long run and hopefully the happy cheerful chants from my coaches will echo in my head. They believe in me, why can’t I?

I didn’t write a “where I was” post for 9/11 this year. I didn’t write one last year. On that note, I also was not alive when Kennedy was shot or when the Atom bomb was dropped on Hiroshima so I have no good point of reference for those events. I remember where I was, where I was going and the events from that day. I understand, in theory, why we use this point of reference for momentous events like this. But my mind doesn’t work like many people. I don’t connect where I was and what I did with the emotions I felt at that time and how this humongous event affected my life. I read with slight irritation every year for at least the last five when people post where they were.

I don’t fault them the emotions they feel though. The sadness and remembered anguish from loved ones lost, the relived relief at hearing of bare misses because of the quirks in time and scheduling that allowed friends and family to not be in places that they would have normally been, the imagined fear of what could have been had our way of life changed more than it has or has their loved ones been lost in those instances by putting themselves in another’s shoes. I’ve been unfortunate enough to be faced with tragedy and seen what it can do to seemingly strong people. It’s not a pretty sight, so I don’t begrudge them that opportunity. However a quote came across my Facebook stream this weekend that best summed up how I felt:

Do not ask me where I was on 9/11 for that is not of importance to me. Ask instead if I have made the world a better place in the days since. Ask if there were tears for those I never met and prayers for families I do not know. Ask if I had faith in spite of the fear. Ask if I support the heroes, the warriors, the survivors and the ones still in the fight. Do not ask the “Where”. Ask instead “Who” I have become.

If you’ve been reading my blog with any regularity during the last year, you’ll see that I feel strongly for many people I’ve never had the privilege of meeting. (and regularity is obviously a relative term given how often I’m able to squeeze time in to write) These people are near and far and most of them have been Cancer patients or their relatives helping loved ones battle their way through the horrible disease. I honor their lives through running because the rigors of training for a endurance events like marathons and half-marathons are nothing compared to what they see in their day to day life. But I digress.

What have I done to make the world a better place? I could answer simply by putting the old adage of do good unto others into action on a day to day basis, but that’s definitely too simple for the actions necessary. Instead, I will say that I’ve made my life richer, not only by doing more, but by being open to more. By taking chances that ten years ago (heck, two years ago!) I would have been to afraid to make. By making a point to take time for those around me and by learning that the action or non-actions of others do not always reflect on the person I am. By cutting the histrionics from my life and dis-allowing the negativity of others to affect me. And by taking the time to smell the flowers and enjoy life. To write more, to play more, to love more. Because time is short and you never know when and where your next adventure will come from. As Albert Camus once said, “Don’t walk in front of me, I may not follow. Don’t walk behind me, I may not lead.”

Week 16/25 is here and from here on out, my runs will all be approximately 3+ hours until we enter taper. I should feel lucky that Summer has been kind to us here in Seattle. Fellow runners throughout the nation have been experiencing 90+ degree weather all summer. They’re forced to run super early, super late or get on the dreaded Treadmill to get their bodies acclimated to the pounding they’ll experience in less than three months. I’m learning to experiment with new meal plans, eating/hydration habits and different gear options. More so than last season with TEAM, I’m discovering what things I like and do not like. I’ve discovered the wonder of regular ice baths that only athletes seem to understand and marveled at the technology behind compression gear that keeps blood flowing through the various parts of our body. I’ve learned about more about cancer than I really care to know and tear up in anguish when I hear yet another person has been diagnosed with these awful diseases. I’ve listened to Mission Moment stories where people have lost many, many loved ones to cancer. However, I hear just as many stories of survivors. Honored TEAMmates who would not be here today if it wasn’t for the assistance of TEAMmembers past and present who have tortured their bodies for endurance runs, hikes, Tri-athalons and more just so more patients can be helped and possibly saved. Like the 3 FOR 3 cancer study that was recently in the news. The Leukemia and Lymphoma Society helped fund that and I cry with JOY to know that we helped out. To know that maybe one day cures like this one will be as common as the cure for smallpox which was once considered incurable and a death sentence.

Most importantly, I’m learning of the kindness of others who believe in this mission as much as I do. Who spend season after season volunteering their time and energy as a Coach or Mentor or just as a fundraising participant raising money for the Leukemia & Lymphoma Society all over our nation. To know that I can do my small, small part and help out by running and raising money while cancer patients can only do so much as raise their head. That experienced those feelings that only those with cancer can understand after hearing those three little words. ”You Have Cancer.” Last night I realized I was about three weeks past a similar point myself. It never ceases to amaze me how fast time can fly….

It was 3 weeks ago that, while lying in bed, I discovered a lump in my breast. It was a lazy Sunday morning, which is pretty common in my life now. I struggle against them, but mostly because 2-3+ hour long runs have necessitated making Saturday the lazy sleepy, nap in bed day and Sunday the finish all your weekend errands day. At any rate, it was Sunday. Lazy and with a beautiful afterglow. I was contemplating how beautiful life was. It was a sunshiny day, I was finally divorced and happily in love. What more could you ask for? That’s about the time I felt it. A lump. In my breast. As with any scare, I took a moment to pause while crazy thoughts raced in my head. Was that what I thought it was? Why is it so BIG? Am I imagining it? What about my other breast, does it feel similar? What if I stood up, would that make a difference? Justin noticed. He teasingly asked me if I was doing a self exam and tried to help. I told him quietly though that I thought I had found a lump. All jokes stopped and he reached over and felt the same thing I did.

We all know that the next stage is to obviously not panic and make an appointment with your Dr. But that doesn’t stop the thoughts that race through your head. The obvious WHY ME?!? flew through a few times as well as the thought that there was no history of Breast Cancer in my family. Other thoughts that felt weird included Why is all cancer in the breast referred to as Breast Cancer, but if it happens elsewhere it has exact names like Acute Lymphoblastic Leukemia (ALL) or Acute Myeloid Leukemia (AML). Do you know how many types of cancer there are? TONS. I’m geeky, I went straight to Bing and looked. Thankfully, I didn’t placate my anxieties and become all hypocondriatic(is that even a word?) by clicking on each and every cancer name and read up on them. It took me most of the next week to finally call the Nurses line who told me to make an appointment immediately, which I did. My dr fit me in the next morning. After some routine questions that did nothing to calm my nerves, he told me that given my history it was most likely not cancer but gave me a referral to the Diagnostic office in Seattle where they do Mammograms. They too were kind enough to squeeze me in and after more questions and more boob squeezing, they came to the same conclusion. (By the way, why do doctors congratulate you on your first Mammogram?) However, they wanted me to come in the following week so they can pull some of this lumpy tissue and confirm. From both breasts. Does that freak you out? I certainly was. I only came in about one, but apparently the Mammogram revealed smaller lumps in my other boob. SCARY. I went in the following week without telling many people what was going on. For some reason, despite all my various nonsensical updates to the Social stream, this is one I held close. In fact, it wasn’t until the day before that I realized I should probably call home and tell my mom. Just in case. Justin, of course, knew and in typical Liana fashion, I told him my beliefs about life support and surgeries. A biopsy is a minor one in the grand scheme of things, but a surgery none the less and I didn’t want to go in without someone other than my mom knowing my stance on life support systems.

Now here I am, three weeks after discovering said lump. Two weeks post Biopsy and I’m happy to say that those lumps weren’t cancerous. One of those things they don’t tell you when they remind you to do your monthly checks is that sometimes the lumps you find are just fatty tissue build up. My lumps are called Fibroadenma and I’m relieved to say I don’t have cancer. That won’t stop me from running though.  If anything, it reinforces the need in me to run more. To help find more cures so that no one has to have a scare like that and worry about possible death sentences. To worry about losing loved ones or even leaving them behind.  You can do your part too.  You don’t have to run if you don’t want to, although the next season is just getting started.  A small donation will help me get to my goal which is a mere $1000 dollars away. Make a small donation and maybe if your company does matching donations, they can kick in a little extra.  

What can your donation do?:

• $1000 supports one week’s salary for a medical researcher at UCSF, Stanford, or Berkeley who may discover key information to developing curative treatments for blood cancers.
• $500 provides a blood cancer patient with financial assistance for one year.
• $500 allows 10 patients to log on to a webcast and hear the latest information in treatment for their disease.
• $200 provides a Family Support Group Program for one year for a patient and their family.
• $150 allows 5 patients to make a First Connection with a trained peer volunteer.
• $100 provides 3 patients access to an information teleconference.
• $75 is the average cost of tissue typing to become a bone marrow donor.
• $50 is the cost of a CT scan
• $40 is the cost of sending a comprehensive packet of information for children with cancer.
• $35 pays for transportation expenses for a patient living in Northern California’s most rural areas to treatment at a comprehensive cancer center.
• $25 covers a single prescription co-payment.
• $5 is the cost of sending a newly diagnosed patient information about support and their disease.

Also known as the post race report?

I ran my 2nd half marathon a few weeks ago and am exhilarated to have finished. I wasn’t excited by the time, but I definitely learned quite a few things. Things like proper nutrition in theory and practice on race day are two different things. Things like the fact that weather and groundwork make a big difference. And most importantly, the fact that we’re all built differently. I stressed out the week prior. It felt as if nothing was going my way, I wasn’t able to get my runs in on a regular basis and I had tons and tons of stuff to do. When I calmed down, I realized that most of my anxiety stemmed from not having Team in Training tell me where to be and what to do. I was running this race without fundraising, but still as an extension of the team. Coach Jay patted me on the back and reminded me that I’d be fine and to just trust in the training and groundwork I had put in.

But those lessons? Good ones and hard learned. I ate like I normally do, before I left for the race, but that was hours. Now I know to add some granola bars or other supplements pre race since I’ll be waiting at least 1.5-2 hours to get going. I stood in a line that felt like it was never going to end, pre-race, to use the potty. I should have gone earlier and now I know not to put it off. At least I didn’t have to stop my run and lose time like I did in my last race? *shrug* I learned that when you transition from cold to warm weather running, it makes a big difference. I wasn’t prepared for that and it wore me out faster than I expected. And most importantly I learned that getting those weekly runs in make a huge difference. I examined my training pre-race and found that I gave in way too often. I was too tired or too busy, so I didn’t train. Last season when that happened, I had the luxury of a gym to fall back on late at night and I think I’ll add that back in. The good parts? I finished and I recovered rather quickly. The day was beautiful and I met some awesome people from all over the country. It didn’t rain on our heads like a monsoon as I feared it might. There were wonderful signs and people all along the route cheering us on. And while my family didn’t make it down to Seattle yet again, Justin was there at Mile 11 to cheer me on and be there for me at the finish line. I’m back and revived and remotivated to conquer a full marathon in October when Nike Women’s Marathon gets here.

But I’m constantly reminded that these are small battles compared to those we fight for. I wrote an email recently to our TEAM Captains. They wanted to know who we run for on our team and it was sadly a long list. Mine read like this:

I run for Derek K Miller who passed away from Colon Cancer mere months ago leaving behind a wife, two small kids and the entire internet full of friends and fellow bloggers.

I run for my Aunt Darline who passed away from Lung Cancer after a long and arduous battle weeks before our current season began.

For my friend’s grandfather Pete Pirillo who passed away from Colon Cancer.

For my Aunt Sweetie who passed away from Thyroid cancer.

My friend Liz who won her battle with cancer,

Jimmy, who I haven’t seen since he was about 8 but diagnosed with AML at the age of 9 and is now considered a 5 year survivor and happily married.

My Tam whom I’ve never met but is friends with Liz and beginning her battle with Non-Hodgkins Diffused B Cell Lymphoma

And earlier this week I added Chrispea, a scrapbooker whom I’ve admired for years but never knew as a breast cancer survivor – until she passed away from it. Cancer sucks.

Yesterday felt like a bad day. It started like any other. Snooze button. Rinse repeat. Get up and rush to work. Work work work. But then all over my twitter and facebook streams, breaking news was happening. The verdict on the Casey Anthony case was being announced. Yet again, I had to google bing her name so I could remember why the hell she was important and I was reminded. She killed was accused of murdering her 2 year old daughter and blithely living life as if nothing had happened. That her daughter no longer existed. That there weren’t loved ones who would cherish her. Seven different charges, but the only ones anyone paid any attention to surrounded Caylee’s death. Not Guilty. Yet again, we have to be reminded and reminded that the prosecutor must prove beyond a reasonable doubt that the accused did what they were being charged with.

Around the world, hearts contracted. Social Media Streams exploded. Outrage, anger, frustration and yet again more tears. Speechless people raging against a seemingly incompetent system that would allow her to go free AND then go profit from the story. Like many, my heart also contracted. Yet, I have no outrage, or frustration. I’m puzzled over what made this case so special. Yes she lied. EXTRAVAGANTLY. Wow the lies she told! But really, how many cases can you find (if you searched) where a child was killed by someone they loved and trusted. Who then told lies to get out of their situation? Numerous, I’m sure. What was it about Casey A. that intrigued the pundits? I honestly don’t know. For me personally life, has been much simplier since I removed cable television from my life. Certainly, I do miss watching my shows live, or on awards show evenings or game days for various sporting events. But it has also disconnected me from getting caught up in the added hype behind cases like this. Did the extra attention add on a level of scrutiny that the officials couldn’t handle? Was that why their case failed? Was there simply not enough evidence and they winged in on a hope and a prayer?

I’m kinda ambivalent to the case in general. Don’t get me wrong, it’s upsetting that Caylee was pulled from this life so heinously. But what about those kids whose deaths have gone unsolved, yet their secret is locked in a deep dark family dungeon? What about those families arguing in vain with Child Protective Service trying desperately to rescue them from a life headed straight down the toilet? Why aren’t they getting this kind of airtime? Why does the battle have to feel so fruitless?

I miss my nephew. I miss his sister almost as much. In quiet moments, I think about him and wonder what he would have been like. Would he have been as stubborn and headstrong as his parents are? Kekoa was taken much much too soon from this life. When cases like this come up, I’m thankful that we had an excellent staff in the Prosecuting Attorney’s office to help put away his murder. I’m thankful for a judge who had the courage to pretty much call this lowlife an asshole to his face. But still I wonder. If CPS had done their job in the first place, would nephew still be here and would my sister have gotten the help she needed at the time? Where would life have taken us?

   I began this battle just over two years ago as a way to fight the depression that was mentally restricting me from doing so many many things in my life. They felt like chains constricting me and holding me tight. Running was my way of escaping from them and the endorphins I got from running enabled me to move through life with a semblance of competency even though all I wanted to do was curl up and stare at the wall all day. Eventually I got better and those moments were few and far between. Last year, I got involved with Team in Training with a good friend and my battle started anew. I wasn’t just running to escape my own demons any longer. I was running because others could not. To raise money for cancer patients and cancer research and to make a difference in the lives of those around me. Cancer’s been on the peripherals of my life almost since high school. The firstborn of a family friend was diagnosed with AML, Acute Myeloid Leukemia before he could even finish elementary school. The information provided to his family by the Leukemia & Lymphoma Society became almost like a bible to them for those dark days. Jimmy was lucky though. He’s 5 years out of Chemo and even though he’ll always continue to go in for checkups, he’s considered CURED and is happily married and living life like any other person. But not everyone is so lucky. My grandmother, my aunt Darline and Sweetie (another family friend) all fought their battles against various forms of cancer and lost. People like Derek Miller, @Tommusic and so many many others lost their battle. People like My Tam are beginning their battles and starting on that painful journey of therapy. I run for all of them. To remember those we’ve lost, to celebrate the battles won and because there are those still in treatment who can not even run to the toilet, much less 13.1 miles. A cancer survivor and fellow teammate I recently met put it most eloquently…. I run until there’s a cure.

This week has been a hard mental battle of chaos for me. Even though it’s my 2nd half marathon, this is the first one that I’ve had to manage all the details on my own. Even though I’ve had the support of my Team, there’s no one to tell me to be someplace by a certain time, or guide me to the starting corral. I’ve pulled back from many activities as I manage my idiosyncrasies that cause me to panic about every little minute detail involved. Will I have enough GU to get me to the finish line? Will my Plantar Faciitis act up mid race? Do I drive down to the start line or take the shuttle from downtown? What time do I need to wake up? What’s the best foods to get me fueled enough this week so mid-run I don’t feel like hurling? Will my socks chafe against my foot? Crazy yeah? I’m better now. I stopped and took a few hours yesterday to focus on simple non-sensical tasks like unpacking and then went to have dinner with some Teammates. But tomorrow will still be Chaos. I’ll miss tonight’s Summerfest concert so I can be in bed early for a 430am Wakeup. But I’ll love every moment. I’m remembering last November as I ran my 1st event. The family members of others cheering us all on. Perfect strangers cheering my name as they read it off my Team in Training Jersey, the Soliders lined up with a Flag Salute in Madrona Park, and most especially crossing the finish line. 

Will I see you there?

Tomorrow’s race is for My Tam. I’ve yet to meet her, but we’re both friends with Liz. My Tam has a great support system of friends who are helping her with my battle. We should all be so lucky.