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