I'm Not Really a Runner

I'm not really a runner.

But on October 2nd, I will strap on my running shoes, hit the play button on my iPod, and join thousands of other women and men in the Canadian Breast Cancer Foundation's CIBC Run for the Cure. 

And when my feet hit the pavement, my thoughts will turn to the women in whose honour I am running. 

As my heart hammers, arms pump, sweat pours, and legs fill with lead, I will think about my mother's mother; my grandmother, who died of metastasized breast cancer at the age of sixty.

I will think about my dad's sister; my aunt, who is a survivor, and thankfully, has been cancer-free for many years. 

I will think about my dad's second wife; my step-mother, who finally succumbed to the disease after two long years and left behind a 16-year-old son, my brother.

I will think about my friend Kate, who is my age, mother to a doll-faced toddler and, I am positive, will soon be joining the list of breast cancer survivors.  She graciously, bravely, and honestly writes about her journey through the Big C at The Adventures of OBB.

These are the women who have inspired me to participate in the Run for the Cure, this year and in years past.

But as I run, my thoughts will turn to other women as well.  I will think about my mother, my sister, and myself.  Most of all, I will be thinking about my daughter.  I will be dreaming of her future, a future that includes a cure for breast cancer.  That is my wish for Lilah and her generation.

I'm not really a runner.

But on October 2nd, I will run for a cure.  And that will be enough.