Think Pink

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The sanctuary looks like its been hosed down with Pepto Bismol.– M’Lynn from Steel Magnolias

I’m not a pink-hater like some people, but after last weekend’s Susan G. Komen Charlotte Race for the Cure, all I could think of was Sally Field and Dolly Parton dripping with Southern Louisiana drawl. The whole city of Charlotte was covered in the color pink. Pink skyscrapers, pink water fountains, pink wigs and tank tops sporting pink sparkly palm prints in PG-13 rated locations with the words “Noisy Knockers” puff-painted on the back.

Huh?

I’m all for dressing the part for the sake of the cause, but that’s where I draw the line. And did I mention the fairy wings? Yes. You heard me. Fairy wings. And the women were wearing them too. The guy in the pink glitter tutu came in 3rd place right in front of the Noisy Knocker in the hot pink tube socks. I wouldn’t even know where to shop for hot pink tube socks. It was an experiment in abnormal social psych to say the very least. This girl was one of about two dozen dressed just like her. I couldn’t make this stuff up, so I asked if I could take a picture with her.

Anyway, I entered the competitive race {verses the recreational “Fun” Run}, but I would hardly call my time “competitive”. My aim was to simply run the entire 3.1 miles without walking. The bad news is, mommies pushing strollers WALKED across the finish line before I did along with a couple of teenage girls with pink hair that I spotted texting on the curb at the mile 2 marker. But hey, the tortoise wins the race, right? I fulfilled my goal and ran the whole stretch while K.T. Tustall sang me to the finish line with “Suddenly I See”. Something about that song makes me want to put on a pair of red high heels and sip cosmopolitans.

It was the coldest morning of the year. The sun was barely up, and I didn’t want my babies to freeze in a crowd of 16,000 people just to watch their mama limp across the finish line. So, I hitched a ride home and hopped out of the car a block from the house so I could run up to the front porch as if it was the real thing. Salem and Mia greeted me from their high chairs along with a very groggy husband wearing a Snuggie. {Just kidding. It was a throw blanket, but Clark in a Snuggie is a rather fun visual, don’t you think?} My very supportive husband snapped my picture as proof that I survived the whole ordeal.

Thanks, Sweetheart. I couldn’t have done it without you.

On a more touching note, there was a moment where I fell into a stride behind two women. Neither of them had pink hair, but one was wearing a sign that said, “Celebrating my mother”, while the other wore a sign on her back that said, “In Loving Memory of My Nana.” It was in that moment that I realized that while one ran in honor of a beloved survivor, the other ran with scars of loss in the name of one who fought without victory. And then I started to cry. The stroller pushers probably thought I pulled a hamstring because I boo-hoo’ed for nearly half a mile. But, in that moment, I felt like I was part of something that was much bigger than myself, and in a way it was a small reward.

Thanks to all of you who cheered me on and those of you that sponsored me in the race. One thing is for sure. No matter if you’re sick or healthy, running or reading, grieving or cheering…. you are not alone!

Now that merits a set of fairy wings, don’t you think?

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