Survivors To The Left

Susan G. Komen, from Illinois, died of breast cancer in 1980 at the age of 36. Her sister, Nancy, promised Susan that she would find a way to speed up breast cancer research and, founded in 1982, the Susan G. Komen Breast Cancer Foundation. The rest is history, with the foundation raising over $35 million a year.














Last year (this year too), the company where I work (Boeing) pledged $100 for every employee running the race and I became motivated to raise funds for the cause. As I became more aware and touched by the works of the foundation, I joined, I pledged and I raced, feeling humble while running among hundreds of survivors. Six months later, for my total surprise, I was diagnosed.

This year, it was my story and I ran the race from the other side of the fence.

Dressed in pink, (a lot to say for a black-and-white lady), I joined my adorable son Diego, his fiancee Shelly, and my good friend Emily. I saw my good friend Melinda also in the start line. At 7:45 am we were set to go, and there we went. There were so many people, that I lost sight of my son. Melinda took off very fast, and Emily and I ran together the whole race. Thanks to her I could keep a decent pace. The Alaskan viaduct going uphill didn't look so bad, but when you run it under 8 min/mile, is going to look really bad later, even in the flat portions... The support was great all along the course with cheerleaders singing "Early detection is the best prevention" and "I am the Cure"...

After mile 2 I was panting but, thanks to Emily I still kept a good pace. If I would have been alone, I would have dropped my speed considerably.

Getting close to the finish line was quite a moment. The support to the runners and to the survivors was simply amazing. Just a third of a mile from the end I told Emily "let's sprint", but I think she didn't hear me. I can't describe what I was feeling. I was lost in my thoughts with flashes from last year's race. Today I would cross a different finish line. A sign indicates: "Survivors To The Left". When I heard, "another survivor crossing the line", I cried, and then I saw my son, right there waiting for me, and in an indescribable moment that I will never forget, we hugged each other, like saying, we have come a long way, in such a short time... And a press guy captured the moment. What a gift.












http://www.seattlepi.com/photos/popupV2.asp?SubID=4880&page=4&GTitle=seattlepi.com%20photo%20gallery&pubdate=6/7/2009


Six months ago, Diego was with me at the doctors' office, hearing those terrible words: You have a malignant tumor. Six months later, everything was happiness, and joy: His mom is a survivor.