Pink
It must have rained during the night. Not unexpected. It had been raining most of the last three day, but I had really hoped the rain, at least, would stop. It was cold. Clouds masked what little light false dawn provided. I pulled on bottom thermals, black running pants, black V-neck shirt with pink patch, black jacket, socks, walking shoes. I ate a yogurt, a cereal bar (homemade. To be honest, just a cookie, but it had peanut butter and Rice Krispies™ in it. That it, also, had butterscotch chips, chocolate chips and powdered sugar, was beside the point, don’t you think? Me, too.) I packed gloves, hat, pink hoodie, umbrella, water, tissue, antibacterial wipes, wallet with money, credit cards and ID, camera, notebook and determination. A good pair of walking feet, too and a goal.

Picked up a daughter-in-law and granddaughter and headed for the Making Strides Against Breast Cancer walk. If you know me, you know the challenge is the driving. Once driving to Salt Lake was second nature to me, but as my mother has aged I’ve found the distance I drive has narrowed, a little more each year and when you don’t do something, you don’t stay comfortable doing it. And I’ve never liked driving in the dark. My sense of direction is so bad when there are no landmarks. I am directionally challenged and always have been, but off we headed.

The drive was much easier than I worried about and thankfully, the rain had stopped. It warmed up, too. The crowded wasn’t quite as big, most likely due to the weather, but the experience was just as inspirational. I don’t know all the personal stories, but, with my writer’s mind, I imagine them. And it is not just the survivors, though their stories are the ones you see most clearly. The story, any one of the stories, is about the supporters, too.

And you see it there: The grandmother with the survivor sash across her chest being helped along the 5-mile walk by her granddaughter, the woman…no, the girl, really, with a survivor ribbon walking with a man wearing a shirt that said: I’m walking for my girlfriend. ( I say, hold on to that man) The ten women walking with shirts that said: for Amy. The tall, blonde in the middle with: for me on her shirt, surrounded by them, looking strong and healthy and protected.

It’s October. Save the ta-tas, Save second base, Save the breastesus. Get your mammograms, do self-exams (ignore the recommendations and take the battle into your own hands, so to speak) eat right, get out there and walk. Fight the battle. Fight like a girl.