Pretty in Pink

It is still nighttime-dark and very quiet at 5 a.m. on this Sunday, September 29.  But waking up seems unusually easy.  You see, today instead of getting ready to run my long Sunday training run in preparation for the upcoming NYC Marathon, I am putting on all the pink and girly clothes I can find – pink t-shirt, pink fur-collared sweater,  and pink gloves. The pièce de résistance is the pink tulle tutu.  If there is anything that makes you feel like a girl, I’m here to tell you that there’s nothing like a tutu.

On this day, I am not a runner.  I’m a hater and a lover.  Today, I hate cancer.  But today, I also join thousands of others in the Race for the Cure who love their neighbors, and their sisters, and their coworkers, and all the women who wear pink hats to cover the scars of chemotherapy.  Today, I won’t run.  I will walk, and skip, and dance and reflect, and believe that all of us together can make a difference.

My team, “Deb’s Bosom Buddies,” arrives to pick me up at 5:30 a.m. for the pilgrimage to downtown Denver.  The team is Deb, our breast cancer survivor and inspiration, her husband and ultimate rock, their three teenagers and their two friends.  We are a motley crew in Race for the Cure tee-shirts, multi-hued pink tights, pink knee socks, pink ribbons, pink face paint, and pink boas.  We are ready to use the power of pink to kick cancer’s stupid butt.  This is our rally cry.

Pretty (and powerful) in Pink

We arrive at the Pepsi Center and I look around at our crew.  Everyone is smiling and jumping up and down and acting giddy.  It doesn’t matter that our Bosom Buddy teenagers probably got only a few hours of sleep or that their friends will probably be lounging around in their jammies until noon.  I am swept up by the energy of these kids who care so deeply for the mom who fought for her life to be with them today.  They wouldn’t miss this moment to be with her and celebrate her survivorship – even if it means being downtown before dawn.

We’re taking pictures of ourselves doing silly things and kissing Deb and hugging each other.  I’m laughing and then I’m crying.  We are walking and skipping and dancing the 5K route, all the while reading the inspirational signs and tributes to those who lost their lives to breast cancer.  I cannot get ahold of my emotions, but you know, I guess that’s what it means to be alive.  I am so grateful to be alive today and among so many caring, spirited, life-loving human beings.

Deb is our rock star and we are her groupies, so we post pictures on Facebook to forever document this day and share our pink power – and maybe even change one person’s mind about how they can make a difference in this world. This is a fight we can win if we keep up the momentum and remember that there is nothing more attractive than fighting like a girl.

[If you have a loved one suffering with cancer and in need of a Healing Bear, please reply to this post.]