Following a half marathon last year we found a flier advertising the Rock N Roll Dallas Half Marathon benefiting the Susan G. Komen Marathon for the Cure, which raises funds for breast cancer research. Closely following the loss of Aunt Paula, it seemed very fitting so we desperately wanted to participate in the effort. We set a fairly lofty goal to raise $3,000. We didn't reach it, but despite the down economy still managed to clear $1,300. To all of those who donated to this, thank you!
We spent much more time fund raising than running which isn't saying a lot. The weather has been awful and everyone has been sick, so we entered the race "under-trained" (a blatant euphemism). Following a couple warm weeks, temperatures dropped on race day to 41 degrees so we were happy that the Komen fundraising participants met indoors where we were plied with pink paraphernalia and took pre-race pictures.
Eventually we left the hotel lobby as a group and paraded before the crowds to get exposure for the cause. We didn't anticipate all the attention and Jeff smirked as the public address announcer introduced our group as "the ladies in pink." We were pleased to learn that the combined efforts of the group raised over $300,000 for breast cancer research.
Again for maximum exposure, our pink clad group remained together in the same start corral where we met an unwanted new form of exposure. Wearing shorts and sleeveless Komen technical shirts we shivered together, bearing the brunt of a north wind that gave the impression it carved the street out of the downtown skyscrapers just for the opportunity to blow through us. It wasn't the coldest we've ever been or even the coldest before a race, but we were chilled.
Finally with the same unfunny joke he issued through the previous 10 corrals, the extremely British emcee cleared our group to start and we were underway, happy to be free of the wind tunnel and the “entertainment.”
We opted to run together for a couple miles to warm up and chat as we shared the experience. Eventually body mechanics and our mismatched strides dictated a split and we ran our own races.
Today we ran 13.1 miles, each finishing with personal best times.
Pinned to our shirts were pictures and signs dedicated to the memory of Aunt Paula. We were accompanied by hundreds of other runners carrying items in memory of and in honor of their loved ones who battled the same enemy.
We were surrounded by inspiring survivors, and those left behind, undoubtedly present were attitudes of sorrow and fury, but it was evident that the most demonstrative emotion exhibited by all participants was joy sprung from memories and hope for the future.
"When stamina runs out, inspiration kicks in."
We spent much more time fund raising than running which isn't saying a lot. The weather has been awful and everyone has been sick, so we entered the race "under-trained" (a blatant euphemism). Following a couple warm weeks, temperatures dropped on race day to 41 degrees so we were happy that the Komen fundraising participants met indoors where we were plied with pink paraphernalia and took pre-race pictures.
Eventually we left the hotel lobby as a group and paraded before the crowds to get exposure for the cause. We didn't anticipate all the attention and Jeff smirked as the public address announcer introduced our group as "the ladies in pink." We were pleased to learn that the combined efforts of the group raised over $300,000 for breast cancer research.
Again for maximum exposure, our pink clad group remained together in the same start corral where we met an unwanted new form of exposure. Wearing shorts and sleeveless Komen technical shirts we shivered together, bearing the brunt of a north wind that gave the impression it carved the street out of the downtown skyscrapers just for the opportunity to blow through us. It wasn't the coldest we've ever been or even the coldest before a race, but we were chilled.
Finally with the same unfunny joke he issued through the previous 10 corrals, the extremely British emcee cleared our group to start and we were underway, happy to be free of the wind tunnel and the “entertainment.” We opted to run together for a couple miles to warm up and chat as we shared the experience. Eventually body mechanics and our mismatched strides dictated a split and we ran our own races.
Today we ran 13.1 miles, each finishing with personal best times. Pinned to our shirts were pictures and signs dedicated to the memory of Aunt Paula. We were accompanied by hundreds of other runners carrying items in memory of and in honor of their loved ones who battled the same enemy. We were surrounded by inspiring survivors, and those left behind, undoubtedly present were attitudes of sorrow and fury, but it was evident that the most demonstrative emotion exhibited by all participants was joy sprung from memories and hope for the future.
"When stamina runs out, inspiration kicks in."
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