And then we have Run for the Cure - this one is especially for breast cancer - for the survivors and for the fallen. It's an annual event in towns and cities across Canada. Participants run or walk 5 kms on a brisk and early Sunday morning in early October. Their faces mirror everyone in our midst - young and old, male and female: infants in strollers, exuberant 10 year olds, competitive runners in the front of the pack, grannies huffing along and all of us in between.
Over the years, I have always stood on the sidelines - donated to others to do the running and then watched the newsrooms tot up the money total at the end of the day. This year I took up the invitation to do the real thing.
And it was fun - dressed up in the gear, the runners and a pink boa, joining the throngs to walk 5kms. Everyone wore the uniform: white t-shirt with bright pink Run for the Cure writings. Instead of a runner's number, we wrote the names of those who we were running for - past and present. It was inspiring to see the names: for 'mom', for 'aunt Sarah', for Granny. Runners and walkers as far as the eye could see - thousands in each town. Wellwishers along the way waving us on, waterbowls set out for dogs and bottled water for us - just like the real thing. The finish line came all too quickly. All very exhilarating and such a wonderful cause.
Till next year.
We run in remembrance and in hope.
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