Victory is mine! Oh, and the cure for breast cancer's...

I am so proud I could spit.

Proud of myself. Proud of my boyfriend. Proud of my friends.

Race for the Cure was this past weekend and I rallied a small but mighty crowd to take part. Keep in mind, I'm no runner. Hardly. There was an era around 2003-2004 when I was trying my very best to get into it regularly and beat the month on, four months off running pattern I'd followed in years past. I even ran summer rec league track as a little girl, but was an utter failure no matter what event I tried. As I've mentioned before, I've got a mud wrestling body, not a running body.

Nevertheless, in my years when I was more into running I found the energy to take part in two races, a 5K and a 10K. While the goal was always just to cross the finish line without stopping (I've never been that competitive to care about time), I found the whole environment to be completely electrifying. Of course, they were both very well known events, Race for the Cure and Beach to Beacon, so they drew a lot of participants and spectators. Once you've experienced that type of environment, road races can become a bit addictive (yes, despite the pain you endure that never seems to end).

Anyway, I haven't run regularly for a couple of years and had only "trained" for this race twice in the last month, never successfully running the full distance. Needless to say, I arrived at the race on Saturday morning feeling less than confident about my ability to run the whole thing. Of course, I was also exhausted. Our group decided to meet on the Metro platform at 6:45 am. That just hurts on a Saturday morning. Anyway, I'd made various deals with myself in my head as to what was ok and what was not for race time. ("If you make it to mile 2 it's ok to walk. Walk before that and you have to flash the crowd. Is that inappropriate for a breast cancer run or is it fantastically relevant?")

My tremendous news to report is that I ran the entire race without stopping, and I clocked in at around 38 minutes and change. Not an athlete's pace at all, however, given the gridlock at the starting line and the fact that I really didn't train, a 12 minute mile pace or so works just fine for me. It also meant the world to me that my boyfriend, who simply hates running, took part as did some of his friends, one who really likes to run, the other who could do without it. It was a tremendous personal success for me, and to be a part of watching those I care about push their own limits and succeed, all while helping a fantastic cause, well, it was just an incredible day.

As we were walking to the start line, I found myself walking behind a grandfather, a father, and two little kids. They all wore shirts "In Memory of" with the woman's face on the back. The two little kids wrote "I miss you Mommy" in puffy paint on the shirt, and it all then came together that this group lost a daughter, a wife and a mother to breast cancer. The kids couldn't have been older than 4 and 6 and it broke my heart. Of course, they are hardly an exception in the crowd at this event, and as you look at all of the pink shirts around you, indicating survivors, it brings the spirit of the race to a whole new level. I know when I was thinking about stopping, I did think of them, as silly as it sounds. I don't pretend to tell you that the power of their loss could have gotten me through a bad stomach stitch if one came on, but keeping them in mind when I was just plain tired seemed to get me through. It reminded me how fortunate I've been and how lucky I was to be able to take part in the event.

Of course, the post-race breakfast buffet at Royal Restaurant in Old Town made running the race worth it on its own. Let's be honest.