Walk don't Run

13 is my lucky number

 Running has never been something I aspire to doing. I remember back in middle school when once a year we were forced to do a six minute run around the track. I used to pray that I would be sick on that particular day. It never happened and it certainly did not endear running to me.
Fast forward many, many years later and I found myself surrounded by friends who love to spend their weekends participating in 5ks and half marathons and even full marathons. Two of my dearest friends were serious runners. At the time they didn't know each other but independently they were both looking for a running partner. They kept encouraging me to join them. I happen to think it was a stroke of genius on my part that I introduced them to each other. They bonded over their love of running and became quick friends.
My personal exercise routine pretty much consists of not looking for a closer parking spot. I used to walk to my mailbox that was located a ways from my house but we recently moved it closer to the house.

Ter in the front of the line for the before the race warm-ups

Knowing all this, you can imagine my shock in finding myself committing to participating in a 5k this morning. The only thing that could get me up and out the door on a Saturday morning at 6:30 to make the drive to Stockton was the cause behind this particular event: Breast Cancer Awareness. This particular insidiousness has affected the lives of too many of my friends and family.
I signed both me and Ter up. He maneuvered himself to the front row and left me way behind as he took to heart the Run part whereas I embraced the Walk in the description.
I like to walk fast and so I took off at a brisk pace and enjoyed the early morning camaraderie with the other walkers. But somewhere just past mile two I started to run out of steam. I began looking for some sort of public transport to pick me up. What was I doing? Couldn't I just write my check for the donation? Wasn't that enough?
Then the faces of many of my friends started crossing my mind. These were women whose incredible bravery  I had been in awe of. They had endured chemo and radiation and surgery and had done it with such strength. There was my mom who lost her life to breast cancer too soon. There was a friend of my parents who fought breast cancer over 40 years ago when we knew so little about it.
These women were the inspiration I needed to get me through that last mile and a half. And so I pushed on, my thoughts never leaving the too many women (and one man) I knew personally who had been diagnosed with breast cancer. And I was able to finish my first 5k. I even finished by jogging the final yards across the finish line.

This is where Ter passed me on his way back!

Nothing in the experience motivated me to head to an athletic store to purchase high tech racing shoes. But it was an amazing sense of accomplishment and gave me a feeling of doing something for the cause. If just one person who saw all of us in our pink shirts is reminded to do her monthly self exam or if my entrance fee helps purchase one more mammogram for a woman without insurance it is worth it.
And who knows, I could be back next year. Pink is my color.