Cancer’s Got To Go

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This week, I lost my best friend to cancer. I read that sentence and I still can’t believe it’s true.

She was diagnosed with leukemia at the end of April when she went to the doctor about a cough. It’s less than five months later and she’s gone.

For the record, she was the best person I have ever known and the best friend I could ever ask for. She always had a smile on her face, she always had something encouraging to share, and she just made life better. She had also just finished her first year of medical school (below is a picture from the day she found out she was accepted). She was determined to change the world.med-school-acceptance

Instead of curing illnesses or delivering babies, meeting her future husband and having kids of her own (her greatest dream of all), or anything else worth mentioning, she’s gone. And tomorrow I have to stand in an auditorium filled with people grieving the loss of the best person I’ve ever known. What’s fair about that?

When I got the phone call on Monday afternoon, I couldn’t breathe. It felt like someone had me pinned to the ground, holding me down by my chest, refusing to let me up, with pressure building and building and building. And every day since I’ve walked around with a hole in my chest and a lump in my throat and I wonder: Will it always feel this way?

On Tuesday, I began to feel this hot, burning rage bubble up inside me. Cancer stole someone precious from me and I can never get her back. And with that rage came the determination to stop it in its tracks. Families and friends should not have to mourn these losses anymore. Tori got 24 years of life and I am immensely grateful to have experienced the last five of those by her side. But families and friends of these young children fighting this disease don’t have time like that. Children like Isabella and Imogen deserve to experience their futures: the high school heartbreaks, the all-nighters, the weddings, the babies– the LIFE.

So I write to you today in the midst of my heartache, in the midst of fighting with the hole in my chest and the lump in my throat, to beg you to take action. Go read Erin’s posts through the ISF social media accounts about what cancer has stolen from her and her family– they will show you what it feels like and they will break your heart. And then don’t just say “that’s sad” or shake your head– DO. SOMETHING. Sign up for the ISF 5K/10K next week, donate to ISF, organize a fundraiser– it doesn’t matter what but DO SOMETHING.

I’m moving forward with my training alongside the Dream Team with an even stronger passion. It is such a blessing to have them behind me. I got a text on Tuesday with the image above showing two of my friends running for Tori. As Nichole said in her message, “Cancer’s got to go.” Let’s kick it to the curb– for Isabella, for Imogen, for Tori, for everyone else who fought the fight valiantly, and for those who are still fighting.

 

Marathon Fashion- A Jersey Girl Nightmare

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By Guest Blogger: Juliane Kilcoyne

I have lived in Charlotte for over 11 years now, but I will always consider myself a Jersey Girl. Born and raised in Northern NJ – I’m not sure my inner Jersey Girl would approve of this present day Charlottean during marathon training.

The Hair – Let’s be honest, Jersey hair was BIG. It was curled, it was teased, it was covered in Aquanet. (no, I will not include a picture). Marathon hair is the opposite. It’s in a pony, a tight pony, usually covered by a hat, sometimes if I’m feeling fancy, there is a braid. After every run I wash it, then weigh the pros and cons of blowing it out. I’ll either be running or cross training the next day, so what’s the point right? It’s a vicious cycle and my poor hair pays the price.

The Nails – My Jersey Nails were hot pink, plastic and well maintained. While my fingernails are nondescript now, my toenails get a lot of attention these days. They fall off! During my 16 mile run in the rain this past Friday, I thought something had gotten caught in my sock. I realized after it was over, that not only were my toes swollen and blistered, but, I had in fact, started losing my nails. It’s totally nasty and a rite of passage for most marathoners. Sometimes I muster the courage to get a pedicure during training just because a soak and foot massage would be amazing. Then, I spend the entire time apologizing to the nail tech and stopping her from applying fake nails to my toes.

The Fashion – My old Jersey Girl loved her black leggings, scrunchies, leg warmers and oversized shirts. These days, my style consists of running tops, running shorts, running shoes, oh, and running socks. Yes, after my workouts I shower (don’t blow out my hair) and put on clean clothes – clean running clothes. I think, “what’s the point of getting dressed up for a couple hours, the kids will be home from school soon, which means it’s practically time to go to bed, so why waste a perfectly good outfit?” Oh the shame my inner Jersey Girl must feel seeing me in the same running clothes day after day!

While the Jersey Girl in me may not approve of my marathon fashion sense (or lack thereof) here’s what she and I both believe:

-There are children right now having chemotherapy. They would love to have hair – whether teased or in a ponytail.

-Little girls will lose their battle with cancer today and never be able to go to the nail salon to paint their nails a pretty pink.

-Children are wearing hospital gowns tonight, dreaming of the day they can put on their regular clothes (fashionable or not) and walk out the door.

Fashion seems like a small price to pay when you take a look at the reasons why we run. And, because of that, I know my inner Jersey Girl approves.

Running Through My Mind

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By Guest Blogger and Dream Team Member: Crystal Squires

I think one of the things that made me fall in love with running was its ability to silence all of those personal stresses, worries and insecurities that are normally flowing through my brain in repeat mode on a daily basis. When I’d get out on the trails and those would all disappear. For those few miles, my brain would feel completely free to focus on things outside of the daily grind and onto things that really matter. The typical thoughts of work issues or budget issues and “am I good enough?” or “am I doing enough?” would all be replaced with more confident thoughts or things to motivate me throughout the run. Sometimes there were no thoughts at all, but simply just the enjoyment of hearing my feet pounding the pavement.

When I began to fundraise for children’s cancer charities, the thoughts that ran through my mind … the motivators … the things that matter … well, those shifted quite a bit:

Donna, 4 – Papillary Meningioma

Aiden, 3 – Medulloblastoma

Ronan, 3 – Neuroblastoma

Michael, 6 – DIPG

Lucy, 13 – Glioblastoma Multiforme

Kyler, 3 – unidentified brain cancer

Amy, 13 – Glioblastoma Multiforme

Sam, 13 – Neuroblastoma

Shea, 18 – Hodgkins Lymphoma

Joey, 5 – DIPG

Isaac,7 – Medulloblastoma

Ryan, 6 – Lymphoma

Mason, 1 – Acute Myeloid Leukemia

Imogen, 3 – Neuroblastoma

Isabella, 7 – Neuroblastoma

These are just a small handful of the names that I’ve come to “know” over the last few years. The faces of these sweet children run through my mind as I fight the urge to hit the snooze button at 4:45am. They run through my mind as I think “I’m too tired” or “I’m too sore”. They run through my mind when it’s too hot or it’s too cold or my legs feel like they’re on fire and I just don’t want to go any further. They run through my mind when I’m at mile 20 of a marathon and those last 6.2 miles seem impossible.

On top of this shortened list of the kids that routinely pop into my thoughts pre-, post- and mid-run, there are two more faces that run through my mind:

Iz and ChloeThese are my babies, Chloe (3) and Isabelle (11). They are my motivators because I do not take the privilege of being their Mother for granted for one single second. They are my motivators because I am so incredibly grateful for their health today, but I know that tomorrow is never guaranteed. They are my motivators because I want them to see me running to cure pediatric cancers and realize that there are battles to be won that go way beyond just ourselves.

 

These are all of the faces that run through my mind. And because of them … I keep running.

Team Work Makes The Dream Work

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By Guest Blogger: Julie Smith
Training with this team has been such a blessing in my life. I’ve created some amazing friendships and I’m thankful for this dream team. As I like to say (and so does Coach,) “Team work makes the dream work.” That’s a powerful statement when you think about Isabella’s dreams to #beatgrowlive. Despite the fact that cancer stole her from us, we can make those dreams come true for other children fighting cancer today.
This weekend the team ran the OrthoCarolina 10k and it was my first time running that specific race. It was challenging, but I’m glad we got to experience it all together.
We lined up for the start and the team was chatting, cracking jokes, taking selfies and getting pumped to run. I loved having people there to experience the race together. Kelly and I took off and we’ve been “pace partners” for the last year. Meaning, we run together. She pushes me, I push her. As Kelly says I’m her “stuff.” She doesn’t run with music or anything to track her distance/speed, so when we run together I keep her from running too fast early on, and encourage her to the finish while she does the same for me. This race was no different.
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We crossed the start line and we remind each other that slow and steady wins the race. We’ve read about runners that go out way too fast and don’t have enough in them at the end to finish well. We made the first turn and then the first hill was upon us, so we remind each other to take small steps, not look too far ahead and we push through it together. Side by side. Sometimes we need to remind each other about those running mechanics, but really it’s knowing that the other person is there, cheering us on. I can’t let her down.
As others dream teamers run by, we cheer them on and give some high-fives. We know that we are running together, but also on a purpose much bigger than this 6.2 miles. We are running to crush cancer.
The hills continue throughout the course and we stick together. Towards the end, we are both tired and we are fighting to keep going. We encourage each other with random phrases, mostly me singing T Swift or talking about the food at the finish, and then we come in at the last tenth of a mile and we hear it– the dream team cheering us on. There’s a whole group of the team in purple, clapping, yelling and cheering for us as we push to the finish.
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Team work makes the dream work. 
P.S. Photos courtesy of Kelly C.

Do it Again

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By Guest Blogger: Jessica Hall

Screen Shot 2016-08-22 at 11.01.56 AMDo it again. This is a phrase getting me through some of the tougher training moments lately. With our half marathon less than three months away, we are far past what I have ever done before as a runner. Each day I have to choose to fight the excuses and push toward the goal. When I’m tired or discouraged, I tell myself: Do it again. When the speed workout on the track seems impossible: Do it again.

After all, as many Dream Team members say, cancer doesn’t take a day off. Isabella fought again, and again, and again, and again. So I will run again, fighting and pushing and fundraising for a cure.

Early morning alarms aren’t easy. New mileage goals aren’t easy. Unbearable humidity and heat aren’t easy. But neither is the battle these kids fight or the struggle these families face. So when I want to scream and complain in training, when I wake up in the morning with new aches and pains, I tell myself: Do it again. She did.

There is no excuse for the lack of funding provided to fight pediatric cancer. The statistics Erin shares make me nauseous. The most infuriating statistic of all is that all 12 major types of pediatric cancer combined receive less than 3% of the National Cancer Institute’s budget. The American Cancer Society spends less than 70 cents per $100 raised on pediatric cancer. All while a child dies every 16 hours from just one of these 12 types of cancer. If that doesn’t take breath out of your lungs and make you want to do something, I don’t know what will.

It seems like a no-brainer that people would want to help kids who are in desperate need for a cure. It amazes me how many people will “like” a post on social media as we ask for donations but don’t pull out their wallet. When I’ve approached several acquaintances about donating to ISF, I’ve been told some variation of: “Oh, well I donated to [insert foundation here] a few months back.” Any guesses what my response has been? Do it again.

Today I want to encourage you to put away the excuses and pick up your wallet. Is that direct of me? Sure. With stakes this high, why not?

Regardless, I urge you to take action. And then do it again and again. Let’s make Isabella’s dream of a world with no more cancer a reality– one donation, one mile, one action at a time.