Category Archives: Race for the Cure

IAATB – Part II (And An Apology)

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First the apology. I’m sorry. I know there are several of you whose lives revolve around this blog and I’ve gone over a month – a whole, long month – without blogging at all, the longest I’ve ever gone. And after I promised to endeavor to attempt to try to do better. I will make no more promises. Ever.

I’m just joshing you about people whose lives revolve around this blog. I only know of, like, two. Not really. Just one. Okay. That’s an exaggeration as well. I just thought it would make me sound more important. Guess I’ll just get on with it.

June was quite a month around here, but before I can elaborate I need to finish the It’s All About The Boobs trilogy. Of course, it’s been so long since the events happened that this will be the Readers’ Digest Condensed version because I’ve forgotten most of what I was going to tell you. So here we go:


PART TWO

On Sunday, May 9, Mother’s Day, I got up super early and met my friend and photography mentor, Gail, in the church parking lot and we drove into Philly for the Susan G. Komen Race for the Cure. Just the hanging out with Gail was awesome. We never seem to run out of things to talk about. I love that about her.

I was smart and brought my pink gloves with me, just in case it was cold. It was freezing. I was dumb and left the gloves in the car. I was also in need of coffee, but the line to the Wawa tent with the free coffee seemed like it went all the way back to the church parking lot we had just come from. The line for the free iced tea was non-existent, however, so I got my caffeine fix that way. On a frigid morning, but you know. We do what we need to do.

We mosied toward the Art Museum steps where they have the Survivor’s Parade and for some reason, I didn’t want to do the parade. I just wanted to stand there with Gail and watch it. It was the right thing for me to do because walking down those steps with all the other women in the pink survivor t-shirts is very surreal. But watching all those pink shirts move down the steps is very moving. Next year I’m sure I’ll take that walk, but I’m glad I got to watch it as a survivor.

The rest of the morning went pretty much how you’d expect it. We walked and walked and walked and then went to brunch in the city before coming home, where I took a nice, long nap. I know there were other things I wanted to mention, but I can’t remember. I’m sure they were vastly entertaining and worthy of some kind of an award, but this is what I get for waiting so long to report.

I had actually planned to write Part III in this post, but I just don’t have it in me. You know that road? The one to hell? Well I’m paving that sucker faster than I can say “Bob’s Yer Uncle,” and I can say that pretty fast. So at some point – I don’t know when – I will get to Part III. Really. But I’m not going to promise.

The Most Incredible Mother’s Day

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**WARNING**
LENGTHY POST


Yesterday was an odd, yet wonderful Mother’s Day. It ranks right up there as one of, if not my favorite Mother’s Days ever. Another high ranking Mother’s Day was when the kids were small. It was a chilly, rainy day and when we came home from church Todd and the kids went to take naps. I laid on the couch and watched my gift of Breakfast at Tiffany’s all by myself. Then I dozed off and when we all woke up we had a nice dinner. But yesterday Todd, Taylor, Katie and I walked the Philadelphia Race for the Cure with three other families. Thankfully my prayers were answered and my cold never turned into much of anything.

**WARNING**
PG-13


I’m going to give this post a PG-13 rating. There were a couple times I forgot where I was and thought I was in the Big Easy. I kept waiting for beads to be thrown! Well, maybe it wasn’t quite like that. But you’ll see what I’m talking about.

***

We had to get up at five-bloody-o’clock in the morning. Not such a great start to Mother’s Day when you’re the least morning person you know. We met our friends at the movie theater and then caravanned into the city. Mario Andretti led the pack and had scoped out a cherry parking place. And let me tell you – good parking places in the city the morning of the Race are hot commodities. So yeah – we’re definitely taking him with us next year.

The term “5K” is a bit misleading in my opinion. Maybe if you get dropped off right at the starting line and picked up right at the finish line. But when you factor in walking from the car to the race area, walking from wherever you are to the starting line, mulling around after the race and then finally, walking to your car you’re talking more like a 8.64K. But I guess that doesn’t sound good so we’ll stay with the 5K.

We set out walking for the “staging area” and passed a car being towed.

I’m not sure why I thought it was blog-worthy, but I did. So there it is.

After walking about a mile (according to Mapquest) we got to the Philadelphia Museum of Art.

I left my party and crossed the street to venture up the Rocky steps for the Survivor’s Parade. According to the announcer there were roughly 6,000 survivors. I don’t believe there were that many on the steps, but that’s how many had registered for the walk.

Todd’s perspective:

Me hanging out before the parade:


My perspective:

Before the Parade:


The Art Museum flag at half mast in respect for the fallen Philadelphia police officer, Sgt. Stephen Liczbinski:

The parade begins:

The crowd watching and cheering:

I had one of Todd’s hankies in my pocket because I was a little concerned about the emotion of it all. While I did get a little misty, I didn’t end up a blubbering mass. It was all kind of surreal. Maybe it was the early hour or maybe the lack of coffee. But it was almost like I was watching it — not a part of it. And yet at the same time it was incredible to be a part of it.

Making my way through the crowd to the big statue where my party was waiting I came across this interesting statement:

For a confusing second I forgot where I was. Bourbon Street or Benjamin Franklin Parkway…

A Philadelphia bakery made this special cake. Wish I would have gotten a piece. Wonder what kind it was.

Here’s a guy’s t-shirt admired greatly by Todd

And these great bags for sale on the parkway

Finally it was time to make our way over to the starting line. Random pictures of the race:

At this point we needed to find a restroom. The only port-a-potty we saw was for a construction site behind an 8 foot gate. And then we saw this:


It was as though the clouds parted and heavenly rays guided our paths. Some in the group were thinking, Yea! A bathroom!! I was thinking, Bitchen! A venti White Chocolate Mocha with double whip to go!

The Starbuck’s was in the lobby of luxury condominiums which meant restrooms. Unfortunately, several other people had beat us to them. I’m not sure who thought of it, but the girls in our group ended up going in an Irish bar – Tir Na Nog – not yet opened for business.

The best part was the bathrooms were clean!!

I skipped the refreshment and we continued on. Just sixteen people among the masses.

Somewhere along the line I met a man who was a breast cancer survivor. He was the only man in pink I saw, but there may have been others. Funny thing is his wife is an 8th grade science teacher at the school Katie will go to next year. Even funnier thing is his dad used to be a minister at a church in Redondo Beach – where I grew up. Small world.

After about 2 miles or so we saw a sign indicating we’d walked 1 mile. *sigh* So we kept going. And going. Then we passed the 2 mile sign. So we still kept going. And going. As we crossed the bridge to get back to the Art Museum I snapped a couple of my favorite Philly scenes.

Philadelphia Water Works:

Boathouse Row:

And can I just say this kid had it made!

Finally we finished the race! The local news estimated about 45,000 people doing the race with a total of 100,000 people in the area to support the race in one way or another. That’s alotta people!

Two of the families had to leave for Mother’s Day lunches with family. That left eight of us to find a place to eat. Originally we had thought to drive back toward home, but as we crossed the freeway we saw the cars were bumper to bumper. So we decided we should eat in the city.

We checked TGIFridays as we were walking by and oh happy day! They had just opened and were able to seat us right away. But that’s not the best part. No. The best part was when Alex ordered a raspberry tea and I thought that sounded good so I ordered a raspberry tea. In fact, I think I ordered like this:

I’ll have a raspberryteaand… um, parmesan-crusted chicken.

So when the waitress brought us our drinks I noticed my raspberry tea didn’t look at all like Alex’s raspberry tea. Turns out she thought I said raspberrytini. And because of the kind-hearted soul that I am, I didn’t want to make more work for the staff by sending it back and having them bring me a tea. It was quite tasty, though I only drank about half of it.

The other mom, Tina (and the organizer of our team), and I were given a carnation and a yummy little mint chocolate shot glass dessert that tasted like a Girl Scout Thin Mint. After lunch it was a walk around the corner to get the cars. Following a couple failed attempts at finding a decent paced freeway we finally got on the road home. The kids immediately fell asleep. Todd tried to, but he was driving and he thought better of it.

We were so incredibly exhausted by the time we got home. Todd and I both got in a little cat nap here, a little cat nap there, but nothing worthy of being called a true nap. At about 8:00 I went upstairs and hopped into a hot bubble bath. Ahhhh… It was divine. When I woke up (I know, I know. You’re never supposed to fall asleep in a bath tub, but I did.) I got out, dried off, threw on jammies and went to bed. And slept the sleep of the dead. Except Todd said I snored all night and I don’t think the sleeping dead snore. I blame that on a mix of complete exhaustion and the sinus stuff I’ve been trying to get, though I don’t think I’m getting it anymore.

So that, in a very large coconut shell, was my Mother’s Day. Hope all you moms out there enjoyed yours even half as much!

My Week in Arkansas, Part 3

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**My ears are all plugged up and I’ve got that nasty, post nasal drip thing going on. Tomorrow is the Philadelphia Race for the Cure and my first time to walk since both my mom and myself were diagnosed with breast cancer. Which means it’s my first time to do the Survivor Parade down the Rocky Steps (the Philadelphia Art Museum). I’m telling you right now, if I end up missing it AGAIN because I’m sick I will cry. Not just a little boo-hoo, but body wracking sobs. The kind that makes your eyes-a-ruddin’ and gives you the hooty puckers. But I don’t think it will come to that. Well, actually it may come to that just from the sheer emotion of it all. But not ’cause I missed it. I’ll keep you posted.**

And now for the exciting conclusion to My Week In Arkansas. No doubt you’ve lost sleep from the anticipation.

Will our heroine finish the dining area? Will the living room be completed on time? Will the beautiful and sweet youngest sister fall prey to the scheming manipulations of her mean and jealous sisters? And if so, will anybody save her?

Not to worry, gentle readers. Today’s installment will answer all your questions.

Sunday, April 27:

We all went to church with the folks. The last time we were all in the same church at the same time was five years ago so it was nice to worship together. Katie’s second grade teacher goes to that church so I got to visit with her for a little bit. She finds it hard to believe Katie is in 7th grade and isn’t always sweet.

*You know how when your kids’ teachers tell you how sweet and well behaved they are and what a pleasure they are, yadda, yadda, yadda. Do you enjoy hearing it, but in the back of your head you’re thinking they’re only telling you that because they know you want to hear it and in reality your kid is a brat? No? It’s just me??*

After church we went for lunch at The Cracker Barrel. When I lived in Arkansas I used to regularly meet a good friend of mine there for breakfast. Most of those breakfasts with Wilma turned into lunches. She and her husband, Ray, are very special to our family and I think of her as my spiritual mentor. They’re about the same age as my folks and they all enjoy each others company so when I half-jokingly said the night before that I didn’t feel right about going to Cracker Barrel without Wilma Mom said to invite her and Ray. So they met us there and we had a great visit and the food wasn’t bad, either.

Finally it was time to get back to the house and pick up where we’d left off. We got about four hours or so of work done Sunday. And we had, of course, ice cream for dessert.

Note to Terri – Yes, we did comment on the lack of paint fumes, but that’s the way they work. They mess with your brain so you can’t smell them. Really.

Monday, April 28:

We pretty much jumped right into work on Monday. It was our last day to get everything finished so we didn’t waste any time. The dining area, the hall and the entryway were completely done which left the living room. Shelli and I worked in there while Terri did all the running around, straightening, hanging up stuff and those little things you don’t think about but take up a lot of time.

The painting finally got done, curtains were hanged, switch plates replaced, furniture moved back… And this is what we have to show for it:

The dining room:


The living room:

And Terri’s handiwork over the kitchen cabinets:

All our work paid off and everything looked fresher, cleaner and quite nice, if I do say so myself. Which I do. And my mom wanted me to say that she’s very glad we didn’t keep the wallpaper. She was pretty worried for a day or two when she saw what a mess I’d made of the walls, but it all turned out okay in the end.

After days of hard labor we decided to celebrate. So we had ice cream.

Tuesday, April 29:

I’m pretty sure Terri and Michele felt the same way I did Tuesday morning. Excited to be getting home and sad at having to leave. We had flights out of the Little Rock airport close to the same time so Mom and Dad dropped us off together. After we made it through security we went to Starbuck’s for breakfast while we waited for our planes. That was nice, too. Again, the last time it had just been the three of us together (except for when we drove to Baskin Robbins) was when I was having those scans almost three years earlier.

Neither Terri nor Michele abused me much, if at all. Or else I’m so used to it I didn’t notice. I think, however, it’s because there is power in the written word and they knew I’d tell on them for all the world to see. Or the five people who read this blog.

All joking aside, I was so happy we managed to coordinate our schedules and do this for Mom and Dad. Not even the painting so much, but just all of us being together. That doesn’t happen very often anymore because for one thing we’re fairly spread out. But more than that, Terri and Michele have grown children – also spread out and some with families of their own. So it’s a bit of a balancing act on their part – who are we going to go see this time. Even if we spent most of the week painting it was just great to be together.

Racing Days Gone By

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This morning I registered the four of us to walk in the Philadelphia Race for the Cure 5K on Mother’s Day. We’ll be walking with team H4J – to be explained in a later post. Today I’m writing about a very special past race.

Every October from the year 2000 on, the church we attended in Arkansas participated in the Little Rock Race for the Cure. It was women only and each year we’d come up with a new team name, design t-shirts and make a big deal out of it. We’d also grow in numbers.

Our beautiful team captain, Kathy, started all of this because her sister in Texas had breast cancer. Sadly, we unexpectedly lost Kathy to a freak accident in July of 2003. After that Cindy and I co-captained 2003 and 2004.

My diagnosis was April of 2005 and it seemed awfully ironic. Two and a half years previously my childhood friend had been diagnosed so I had started walking for her. Never once did I think I would ever be wearing a pink t-shirt along with all the other survivors.

When October of that year rolled around I was still in treatment and really struggling with my white count. My last three treatments were each delayed a week because my counts were too low to handle the chemo, so there was no way I would be allowed amongst the sea of 40,000+ people and swarming germs.

The team continued, however, and they walked in my honor. My friend, Rhonda, designed the t-shirts. She and my friend, Beth, were the ones who coined the name “G.I. Jen”. They thought it fitting to call the team “G.I. Jen’s Platoon.”

Here’s the front. And no, it’s not your eyes. The picture is a bit blurry.

And this is the scripture I chose for the back.

My sister, Michele, flew in from New Mexico to take part in the walk and afterwards we all met up at the church for a breakfast the men cooked. I sorely missed the walk that day, but the support from this incredible group of people was humbling. I didn’t feel worthy, but at the same time it filled me with such joy.

We moved to Pennsylvania a month after the Philly Race in 2006 and I had some strange skin affliction last year which prevented us from walking. I can’t begin to describe the excitement I feel about being involved again and the gratefulness I have that I’m healthy enough to do it! I’ve missed it.