The Final Countdown

I am getting really excited for the race, there is so little time left!                                                                                               

I know I shouldn't start celebrating yet because I haven't quite 'made it' yet, but I really just feel like I've come a very long way. I have been trying to taper off since my last long run (9.5K). What that means is that I've only been running like 6 kilometers each time I go out, a breeze. Hold it - if I told myself 3 months ago that running 6 kilometers was going to be a breeze for me in such a short time I would have just laughed out loud.

Lately I've been running with my friend H. Though she used to run track in school, she has become a bit out of shape in the past few years from busyness and lack of enough exercise (her observation, not mine). I took her out for the first time last week on the same course that Nate and I have been circling the past few months. I have to say, she did pretty well compared to how I managed my first time out. I've learned to base success on how far in the trail the initial stretch of running lasts before the person needs to break for a walk. My first attempt, I didn't make it more than half a kilometer, so H's approximately 1.5 was well-worth applause. I, on the other hand, wasn't even running at my highest speed potential when we started walking.

I felt sort of bad, like it was discouraging to her that I was able to run faster and further than she was. Personally, it isn't very motivating when I see people passing me. I made sure to assure her how much better she had done than when I had started and will continue to do if she just keeps up the running. It's weird how I've become this running  motivator, attempting to launch others into a world I've until now been too lazy be a part of. Keep it up H!

I also want to comment on how I feel. I will elaborate in a future post, but it's really incredible how different I feel physically and mentally since I've started running. I would have been the first person to roll my eyes, and scoff at those 'diet and exercise bla bla bla', but seriously, take it from me, it's really freakin true!

So as the race day approaches I also want to thank everyone who has helped sponsor our run in donating to Ohr Simcha. Together with donations on the site and cash/checks we're collected over $1,100 - almost 85% of our goal. It's not too late, just click the chip in button to the right of this post or click here.

For your enjoyment:

Komen Race for the Cure Part 1

This post was written Friday, May 4, 2012.

View from my balcony of  setup in Gan Sacher

On my bike home from work on Wednesday (2 days ago) my eyes were suddenly blinded by the pink banners as I made my way past Gan Sacher (Sacher Park). Apparently, they were setting up for Yesterday morning's Komen Race for the Cure, Jerusalem. I became immediately distraught. Contrary to how it might sound, I am an avid supporter of this organization, Susan G. Komen for the Cure. The fact that this race was going on in my own backyard (literally) and I had no idea, was precisely the reason I became so angry. Even though I have chosen to run in support of a different charity for Hakafat Hatavor, the Race for the Cure was something I've been considering in the back of my mind since I started this whole thing. There are two reasons it holds such a special and important place in my heart: my maternal grandmother and my dear friend.

My maternal grandparents moved out of the country long before I was born so I rarely saw or heard from them as a kid. One month-long visit when I was about 8 years old was the most extended time I'd ever spent with them. She was a sick women from the time my mother was a little girl and she would constantly repeat herself, so unfortunately I didn't really appreciate talking with her the only chance I had. My most vivid memory is when I found her bra in my room (I had graciously allowed them to sleep there during their visit... no wait, who am I kidding - did I even have a choice?) and noticed it looked sort of different than those I had seen in the store or my mother's room. Because she had a single mastectomy without having reconstructive surgery, she had to buy bras custom-made with one cup fully padded to even out her destructed figure. Although I was too young to actually understand the severity of the situation, I must have realized its intensity because the image has been imprinted in my mind ever since.

During the summer of my freshman year of college, one of my best friend's mother, C, was diagnosed with breast cancer. This is a friend I'd known since kindergarten; I'd spent many a weekends (and school nights) by her house for almost 15 years, and because my parents moved away when I was in college, she truly became like a second mother to me. This diagnosis was almost the hardest thing I'd ever had to bare. It wasn't just that my best friend's mother had cancer, it was one of the first situations I'd ever been confronted with in which I was totally lost. I used to pride myself in my ability to help out my friends no matter what the issue; if nothing else, I was always able to at least talk them through it. This time was different. I couldn't say anything, I was having trouble even thinking about it, I became totally numb - I was the worst friend that summer at the time I was needed the most. Perhaps her diagnosis struck a chord somewhere I had previously blocked off. After all, my grandmother had breast cancer, so in addition to all of the other statistics against me, I was about 15% more likely to get it myself.
Thank God - though if you knew what an immensely smart, strong and kind person C is, you'd doubt God had anything to do with it - she  made it through what was likely the hardest time of her life. (I would like to just add that my description is purposely short so as not to lose the reader's interest, but I fail to do her kindness, strength and intelligence enough justice - I just wouldn't have enough writing space.)

So there I was, 3 months ago, making the decision to start running. I had a few things in mind:

1. Primary Goal: Don't make a fool of yourself
2. Unrealistic Goal If This Thing Pans Out: Participate in a triathlon (haha yea right)
3. Realistic Goal If This Thing Pans Out: Participate in a Komen Race for the Cure

And that's where the title comes in. My first thoughts when seeing that I had totally missed out on the opportunity to participate in the current race are best expressed with a (mutilated) quote: "How does [Komen Race] coming to my [park] get by me? I must be slipping in my old age!" I may have missed this Komen Race, but maybe it's a blessing in disguise. Now I have something else to look forward to after Hakafat HaTavor, because I'm officially determined to write a future post, Komen Race for the Cure Part 2. I don't know when it will be, but there will be a part two, and I won't stop running until the next Jerusalem Komen race. Stay tuned.

Photo courtesy of Israeli Frontline