ready or not

My run is in four days, and I leave tomorrow to fly to Florida (gulp.) For as much as I’ve anticipated it, it has sort of snuck up on me.


People keep asking me if I’m excited for my run. My typical answer is, “yeah” or “sure” and I rarely say it with enthusiasm. I need to clarify that I am super stoked that I raised $4,150 for the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society thanks to my awesome friends and family. I am also honored to run in memory of Don and Wendy. And, I'm not afraid of running 13 miles as I know I have the right mentality and strength to do it. (Though, I did take a nasty spill down a flight of stairs yesterday tweaking my shoulder to the point I can’t lift my left arm. It will heal by Saturday, right?)


So if it’s not the run that is contributing to my lackluster mood, what is it? Here’s the answer- I’m going to Disney World without my girls, and that totally stinks. 

I’m not a Disney fan. There, I admitted it. I’m not into big crowds, waiting in lines, or commercialized fanfare. And I’m definitely not into princesses. But, I have a four year old who is into them. Lena loves all the princesses, with Cinderella being her favorite. She knows which dress belongs to which princess. She can tell you which princesses fall asleep due to spells and curses, only to be awoken by their prince charming. She can also tell their castles apart and knows which of them have wicked stepmothers. My house has metamorphosed into a pink fairytale and I have been dragged through cotton candy-like muck to the point of submission. I recently accepted it because I finally realized what drives Lena’s passion to become a princess when she grows up. It’s not the gowns or big castles, though she is a mini-fashionista and did ask for her own Kingdom for Christmas. No, Lena is not driven by the glam of it. Lena wants to be a princess because she still believes in magic, and that when you wish upon a star, your dreams can come true. I see nothing wrong with having those thoughts at age four, and I’m willing to nurture it as long as she has hope.


Aurelia is a different story. She absorbs it all with skepticism and intrigue. I think the only reason she puts on a princess gown every now and then is because her big sister is doing it. Lately, her dress-up clothes of choice are a cape and swim goggles- and nothing else. With that said, Aurelia would have fed off Lena’s wonderment of Disney World. When Lena gets excited, Aurelia gets amused and happy herself.


Even though Disney is not my thing, I would have loved to see both my girls bursting with happiness in the Magic Kingdom. I also would have liked nothing more than to give them big hugs after crossing the finish line.


I shared my sadness about the girls with Brock and he quickly replied, “But I will be there to give you a big hug!” Yes. Brock will indeed be there and I can’t think of any friend I’d rather have greet me at the finish line than him. If it weren’t for Brock, I wouldn’t be doing this in the first place. I also happen to know that Brock has a “thing” for Disney, which I’ve never quite understood because he just doesn’t seem like the Disney type of guy. You would never know by looking at this running coach/rockin’ musician/web developer that he is a closet Disney fan who transforms into a kid once he crosses through the park gates. I have a feeling Brock will be just as bouncy as Lena, dragging me ride to ride- though he probably won’t hyperventilate upon seeing Cinderella.


So, yes, I am super pumped to hang with Brock and get a hug from him at the end of the race, but he’s still not my girls. 


It’s more than the hug. What it boils down to is I wanted the girls to see me cross the finish line. I wanted them to see me strong and healthy as I finished with thousands of other runners.


During the year I had cancer, Lena saw me sick on the couch more times than I’d like to recall. She was attuned to my illness, way more than any three year old should be. She would lay in bed with me and snuggle on my chemo days, watching movies while I drifted in and out of consciousness. She held my hand when I got my home Neupogen shots telling me, “This won’t hurt a bit mommy.” I know I’ve been healthy over a year, and I know Lena is aware I’m no longer sick. But deep down, I wanted Lena to be there so she could see me strong and healthy, hoping that would overpower any lasting memories she has of me being sick and feeble. 


My purple Team in Training race jersey came in the mail the other day. After pulling it from the package, I tossed it on the counter and began to mash avocados in a bowl for my starving children to feast on (and fill up on) before dinner.

My Support Crew

Lena responds to the color purple like sharks respond to the faintest tint of blood in the water. Upon seeing the purple haze in fabric form, Lena started salivating. She inquired about the beautiful garment that just arrived in the mail, and if perhaps, she could wear it. To Lena’s surprise, I told her “sure,” hardly looking up as I chopped onions. As soon as Lena pulled the jersey over her head, Aurelia starting chiming in, “Me too! Me too!” It was apparent Lena would have to share the jersey, so I set the timer (the sharing monitor in my house) and told Lena when it dings, it’s Reya’s turn to wear it. The timer got reset several times as the girls swapped the jersey back and forth while I made dinner. They happily munched on greasy tortilla chips and guacamole- using my jersey as their napkin of choice. The jersey was smeared with smashed avocado and salty grease spots. At first I started to grumble, telling them they know to use a napkin and not their, or in this case, “my” clothes, as a napkin. But then I realized, who cares! Having their greasy fingerprints all over my jersey means a part of them will be with me during my race.


Yesterday, I watched happily as the girls dipped their hands in paint and leave their permanent mark on my jersey.  They may not be there physically, but their presence will be felt.  Lena put it well when she said, “When you put on your shirt, Reya and I will be in your heart.”  I finished off the shirt by writing Don and Wendy’s name on the back in bold letters.  I may be running the race in Don and Wendy’s memory, but I’ve also come to realize, I’m running it for my girls who watched their mother fight and beat cancer.  They may not be there to see me cross the finish line, but I know that I will have opportunities to show them on a daily basis that they come from strong stock.