Long Strides

As you know from my blabbing in recent posts, I ran the Susan G. Komen Race for the Cure 5k this past weekend.

The final count in attendance was over 7,000 people. Amazing. Simply and utterly amazing.

Over $360,000 was raised from the efforts of those 7,000-plus people, and I believe my personal fund raising efforts tallied nearly $400 (insert a big thanks to the folks who donated here).

The race started at 8:30am Saturday morning like most races do, with the opening ceremonies beginning at 8:00 am. Survivors let go of pink balloons, filling the morning sky with a sea of pink latex. Local radio talk show hosts were there, the Lady Raider basketball team was there, the Tech baseball team handed out water to runners, dozens of cops on motorcycles (my best friends...Not!)...this was a city-wide effort.


On my drive to the Lubbock Civic Center that morning, I couldn't help but notice light, feathery pink clouds that were hovering over the rising sun. The irony was incredible. They looked like little pink ribbons on the horizon just above the site where the race was held.

Sorry, I don't have a picture of this amazing sight. I didn't feel like filling out a police report after a wreck.

But I did take this picture of a hot air balloon that was right across the street from my apartment the other day as I was leaving for work.

As you can imagine, 7,000 people take up a lot of parking spaces. Cars were filing in from everywhere.


There were venders representing all kinds of businesses there. My favorite thing, and I'm certain this is Texas-specific to races, was that United Supermarkets gave away free grilled sausages on a stick after the race. Of course, I ate one, even though my post-race stomach was screaming obscenities at me for doing so. Oh well. It eventually got over it.

I sincerely hope that this is the worst picture I ever have to post on this blog. Bad light.



I reached the finish line in 27 minutes and 21 seconds after 3.1 miles - an unimpressive run, but I was ok with it considering I haven't really busted a gut training lately.

My race time wasn't really the most important thing that day, though.

As I made my way toward the starting line, easing through a gazillion racers to get a good starting position, something caught my eye that stuck with me the entire race.

A girl, not much older than I, was walking through the crowd in running gear. She wore pink from head to toe. But her skin was pale. Her face gaunt. Her head bald and covered by a cap. It was obvious this girl had been to Hell and back in recent months, battling an uphill battle.

I didn't see her after the race, but the thing I remember the most about that quick encounter wasn't the fact that she was in an obvious cancer battle. It was the fact that she was smiling.