There is nothing funny about breast cancer. Nothing. But throw some pink shirts on a group of rednecks and send them out on a 5k fundraiser and it’s easy to find a laugh.
It started early on Saturday when I realized I had become one of those women who wear makeup with workout clothes. Ridiculous? Yes. And I have always enjoyed ridiculing those participating in this dichotomy between being prepared to bust a sweat and being prepared to participate in a beauty pageant. But I knew there would be pictures. Plus, I didn’t want to frighten the other walkers.
I did some more self-ridiculing as I walked to the meeting point because I found I had parked at least two parking garages further away than necessary, noticed by strolling past those lots and seeing plenty of pink emerging and heading toward the event. Then I met up with my team and learned that one had parked in the same garage as I, and another had parked so far away that she had virtually walked a 5k just to get to the starting gate. Apparently, the poor parking DNA is a shared family trait.
Historically, I have been a passive supporter of the cause. I enjoy showing my support by stroking a check, not hauling my fat ass to an event. This was my first time being an active participant. I was surprised at how many people were there (over 600), and shocked at the number of Survivor sashes being worn. I was worried that I would be unable to behave appropriately in so large a group after FBI 15 (football incident of 2015), and feared I would come to fisticuffs with someone trying to bum rush the water stand. It would be ungood for me to be punched out by a lady (or man) undergoing chemo and carrying a pink princess wand. But I am happy to report everyone was very orderly and polite, probably because they were sober. Mostly.
Not gonna lie, our team was AWESOME! We had our Making Strides T-shirts with Breast Friends Forever team name on the back. We had pink ribbon accoutrements, including bracelets and key chains that my cousin brought for everyone. I have pink ribbon socks, but of course forgot to wear them. Fortunately, other people on the team remembered to properly accessorize. We spanned in age from the 70s to a little one in a stroller. We had four people drive from Ohio to walk. We had real men wearing pink. Let me say it again; we were AWESOME!
Then some people on other teams showed up in pink tights and tutus. And there were pink wigs. And people carrying pink balloons and the aforementioned princess wands. And matching hats to go with the team shirts. And there were signs! Whodathunkofasign??? One sign was a great big giant one like gets carried in front of the marching band that it takes someone on each side to haul around. Too cool! So we have decided that although we are an AWESOME team, next year we are definitely getting tutus. Hopefully, I remember to wear mine. And my socks. Anyways, off we went in our kicky shirts to walk the 3.1 miles.
Here’s something… although not competitive by nature, I turned into the Michael Jordan of fundraising for this event. I emailed my family asking for money, and browbeat them into giving. I used Facebook and, although I have disparaged it in the past, Facebook came up big for me with reaching donors. I still hate it, but I believe in giving credit where credit is due, so here’s to Facebook. At the end of the day, I would gladly give Satan credit if he stroked me a check to find a cure for this bitch of a disease. I have even whored out Ralphie Nugget to raise funds (see below).
Speaking of: if you are reading this and have not yet donated, here’s the link:
The walk has raised over $48,000 and I’m proud to say our team has hit the $1400 mark. So give us some cash, already! Don’t make me send you one of my browbeating emails. Trust me, stroking a check is way easier than walking a 5k.
The best part of the walk (after enjoying a stroll on a beautiful fall day with my loved ones to raise monies to cure stupid cancer, of course) was the end. There were potato chips! Well, yeah, there was also the option of healthy veggie chips or some cheesy cardboard chip type thing, but I am confident the potato chips were put there just for me. Now there’s some proof that Jesus loves a giver!
Then we took some pictures and headed off until next year. Although nothing would make me happier than if I never had to do this again. Not just because I’m lazy, but because this breast cancer scourge has got to go. Got to go! (Said in my James Franco in This Is The End voice.) But just in case, I hope they sell pink tutus in XXL; I had a lot of chips this year…