Yep, this is a shirt with a bunch of names on it. This is the shirt I wore for my very first ever road race. The names, well, they are what got me across that finish line. I am not just talking about race day, but every step of the way from my very first run.

So, just what do everyone from Cameron Albin to Theresa Betts have in common? They each faced down disease or injury, without whining. There was no, “I’m too hot”,  “I’m too fat”, “I’m too uncomfortable” to fight this cancer, this paralysis, this threat to the life I love.

Here is how my name game started:

I was at Crim training one night. The Crim is the aforementioned road race. The training starts in the late Spring. Runners and would-be runners are assigned to groups. Training is every Tuesday night at 6 pm. This is a time of year in Michigan that is frequently also hot-thirty. HOT:30.  I don’t do hot. I loathe hot. If ever there was a perfect out for me in an attempt to do any sort of fitness related thing, hot was it. Ask anyone who has ever trained with me.

On an especially hot evening, early in training, Whiny Fred hopped out of my cool, moisture wicking sportswear and said, “what the hell are you doing? I am hot. We can’t do this. Cut it out. Let’s go get a Coke and a pizza. Let’s start smoking again. This is overwhelming.”

It really sucked to be Fred that night.  He was up against my friend, Darlene. Just as some “life-threatening” sweat started to trickle down my face, I coughed. It was one short, almost a bark, really. Suddenly I thought of Darlene. When I told Darlene I quit smoking, she was quick to demand that I be screened and monitored for lung cancer every year.

My beautiful, young friend, Darlene, was a little impassioned about lung cancer. I guess that is what happens when you are diagnosed just two years after you give up smokes. Her diagnosis was new. She was told the cancer had spread and that her prognosis was not good. Still, somewhere,  from deep inside Darlene’s soul, a still, soft voice whispered, “whatever. Shove your prognosis!”

She got a second opinion and was put on some intense chemotherapy. Her oncologist warned her that it would be rough. He offered no guarantees. Darlene lost her hair, she lost weight, she was miserably sick. She NEVER stopped fighting.

So, here I was, running along with a group of amazing people, all there to conquer their own inner critics and run this ten miles, and I was letting Whiny Fred tell me it was too hot. Thinking of Darlene struggling to keep food down, shaving her head when enough hair had fallen out, and telling Dr. Crappy Prognosis to suck it, made a little heat seem so insignificant.

So, that is where it began. Each time I ran, this idiot Fred would try to infiltrate. Each time, one of those “names” on the back of my shirt would sock Fred in the eye. Each time, I felt stronger. I also felt connected. I realized that this whole running thing was not about me as much as it was about not giving up. So many people I know, and people I have never even met, have kept going when so many other voices have told them to stop.

Here is the deal:  just in case you are thinking- as well you should- “hey drama queen, it’s a ten-mile run. It is not life or death and you are a regular chick who isn’t really that old, and you are pretty healthy.”

This is all true. I agree. I concur. I just typed it out, for Pete’s sake. I get it. I also know that every time anyone does something they thought they never would do, it makes it easier for the rest of us. That is all, really. These little road races, these little personal Goliaths are what ultimately connect us all. Any time I can stop myself mid-whine and remember that a lot of people, all over the world,  are handling far more difficult challenges with substantially more grace, it takes me down a peg.

So, tomorrow is my third Crim day. I will be walking this one with my friends,  Amy and Joanne. Oh, and Brian will be there. Amy and JoJo will never see him, but he will be next to me, or leaning against a tree, or riding piggy back. He never misses one of my races. No worries. You will get to meet him here tomorrow.