On Sunday morning I was one of 2,500 women going around Windsor Racecourse on the annual Race for Life for Cancer Research UK. That was one of three races in Windsor, and one of hundreds across the country. The money raised for this great cause must be prodigious. (Thanks to all my friends for boosting my personal total to £1,175.) It wasn't the fund raising success that impressed me, however, but the general spirit of the day.
First, the cheerfulness. I have rarely been in a happier crowd, or one more excited to be embarking on a task at hand. And yet the second, contrasting mood was a somber respect. Each racer bore a label on her back commemorating whoever she was racing for. I was fortunate enough to have a living, cancer-fighting mother behind me. But far too many of those labels were in memoriam, reminding us of the horror of the disease we were all fighting. Which then kindled the third emotion: Defiance. It was a group of fighters, confident we could stop cancer in its tracks.My companions were friends from Weight Watchers, and between us we drummed up several thousand for the cause. We also had a great time, from the goofy warm up acts to our delight over the Nivea-sponsored goodie bags at the finish line. Bethan's contribution of pink bubble-blowing guns for the gang added to the festivities. For me, the best part of the day was hearing the emcee list all the good cancer statistics. Women with breast cancer are living longer, with 64% making it to 20 years these days as opposed to 44% in the early '90s. We're finding all kinds of cancers sooner, survival rates are going up. Clearly, all this cheerful, well-funded defiance is doing some good.
This is, perhaps, what all athletic endeavors for charity feel like. I wouldn't know, because this was my first. Before my own bout with cancer, my favourite exercise wavered between lifting a wine glass to my lips and turning the pages of a book. (I had great finger strength and dexterity.) I was happy to sponsor others, but couldn't imagine doing this sort of thing myself. Now that I've started to take my health seriously, however, a brisk 5k walk is no big deal. In fact, it's a fine celebration of my own victory over the disease. I'm even contemplating working up to a jog next year.
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