Enjoy the Boobie Scenery

One of the reasons why walking 60 miles was such a pleasurable experience is because it is really like a 60 mile buffet, with live, sideshow entertainment.  There were countless things to eat and look at.   This made it easy to forget how sore my feet, legs, and back were at times. 

So have a look!  Enjoy the glorious 3-Day boobie scenery.

Safe at Second!

Introducing....Team Safe at Second!

These six ladies rocked my world last weekend!  I am so thankful to have made such a fabulous group of new friends this year.

Even more so, I am grateful that I have been able to spend significant amounts of time with my BFF, Sue.  And, I'm proud to announce that after all these years, Sue and I finally slept together.  

(We even took pictures!)

The Important Things About Team Safe at Second

The important thing about Sue is that she has been my pal for over 15 years.

She and I have been through thick and thin together.

She always knows how to make me smile.

She's the one who invited me to join the team.

But the important thing about Sue is she has been my pal for over 15 years.

The important thing about Mary Jo is her great conversation skills.

She is from Montana.

She has gorgeous, sparkling eyes.

She climbs mountains and runs races.

But the important thing about Mary Jo is her great conversation skills.

The important thing about Jacque is that she knows George Clooney.

She makes me laugh til I cry.

She makes me cry til I laugh.

And then she makes me do it all over again.

But the important thing about Jacque is that she knows George Clooney.

The important thing about Tasha is that she is a wild woman.

You never know when she's going to lose control.

When she does, it is witty, well thought-out, and calculated.

Tasha is a speech therapist.

But the important thing about Tasha is that she is a wild woman.

The important thing about Christine is that she will do anything to help you.

She lives two blocks away from me.

She is hysterical after a drink or two.

She can talk even faster than she can walk.

But the important thing is that she will do anything to help you.

The important thing about Susan is that she is a fantastic team captain!

She is willing and ready to discuss any topic in a way that will keep me entertained and laughing for hours.

She is un-freaking-believably perky at 4:00 in the morning!

Before I ever met her, she was a Jason Show lurker, and she stalked my family.

But the important thing about Susan is that she is a fantastic team captain!

All right now, fess up ladies!  Which one of you smart asses put this pantiliner in my waist pack?!?  Hmmmmm?

And There She Was...Waiting For Me

As we approached the finish line, the crowd thickened and the buzzing and cheering grew louder.  Spectators lined the streets, welcoming us, thanking us, and congratulating us for finishing the 60 soggy miles.  Huge grins plastered our faces, and tears filled the eyes of many.  Then we walked through a long, beautiful line of co-walkers who had finished before us.  The cancer survivors wore pink shirts, the rest wore white.  Coming to the realization of exactly which walkers were survivors, and the sheer quantity of them, opened my eyes.  These were true fighters.  Fighters who had suffered and feared and worried, and won.

Then I saw my mom.  She was standing there, her petite frame donned with a pink survivor shirt, her hair had grown out and was longer and a little grayer than it was when I last saw it, her face a bit more wrinkled.  She smiled at me, as tears poured down her face.

This time, she was a survivor.  This time, she made it.  This time, she had won!  This time, she had stayed in remission.  And she was still here, here to walk with me and greet me at the end of the journey.

I stopped, and we embraced for a long moment, sobbing because we now lived in a better world, a world where cancer doesn't steal mothers away from their sons who still need them even though they are grown-ups.  We lived in a world where cancer doesn't steal mothers from a houseful of boys aged eleven to 17, and cancer doesn't steal mothers from adult daughters who still have so much to say to her and do with her.  We now lived in a time, due to the combined efforts of hundreds of thousands of people, when grandchildren get to know their lovely grandmothers, and spend time with them, and cherish them, until they have truly lived a full lifetime, the lifetime that they deserve.

My team paused and witnessed our reunion, joyfully crying with me, feeling intense pride and satisfaction that they had done so much to help me, someone that all but one of them have only really known for a matter of months.  A couple of them were ready with cameras, and photographed one of those moments that really only ever happens once.

But it was time to continue down the pathway, so we parted and took those last few steps of our journey.  I turned around to look at my sweet mother again.  But she was gone.  Lost in a collective consciousness of pink and white, but I knew more than I have ever known before how much she loved me and how she held my hand every step of those 60 miles.  Proud of me.  Prouder than ever of me for being who I am, and living my life in a way that brings her joy.  Proud of me for getting over my silly, insignificant fears and reservations, pushing my limits, and really doing something about the thief that stole her away.

Human Kindness

Walking in the Susan G. Komen San Diego 3-day for a Cure was so many things.  I thought it was about finding a cure for cancer.  I was wrong.

It was about human kindness.  From the very beginning, those two words flashed in my mind, over and over, as I marveled at how every one of the 4,500 walkers and crew and the countless other cheerers and well-wishers were all there because of just that:  human kindness.  

Until this weekend, I had never participated in, nor belonged to a group whose sole focus was just to take care of its fellow man, without reservation.  Old and young; female and male; white, black, and brown; healthy and sick; conservative and liberal; physically fit and less so...all united for a common cause.

The act of combining spirits, effort, and resources brings out the best in people.  People are better than usual.  They seek ways to make life better for others; this was evident throughout those amazing three days.  On the first day, a senior breast cancer survivor friend of ours was walking with us and she tripped and fell on a large orange traffic cone.  Instantly we were surrounded by people who were eager to help.  One walker helped her up, brushed her off, examined her injuries, pushed up her glasses for her, and patted her cheek with the most caring, tender look I have ever seen on any human face.  Many stood by with tears in their eyes.

But even the tiniest acts of kindness seemed huge.   After one of many trips to the porta-potty, a woman was standing next to the sanitizing towelettes, opening them for each person.  Such a tiny thing, but people acted as though it was the nicest favor they had ever received.  "Oh!  Thank you so much!  How nice!"

A sweet friend of mine, who generously volunteered to help us, picked up our gear on the last day, delivered it 20 miles away back to our cars, and then picked us up afterward and took us back to our cars as well, had this to say about this topic:

"Whenever the opportunity arises for us to be in the presence of a collective consciousness of such power and goodness, we should put ourselves in the midst of it. It cannot help but remind us that we are blessed people."


As 4,000 of us plodded through the downpour on Saturday that had us soaked to the bone and sloshing in our shoes, I was reminded of this refrain:


Bright before me, the signs implore me
Help the needy, and show them the way
Human kindness is overflowing
And I think it's gonna rain today.





This is the first in a series documenting Jason's experience in the Susan G. Komen 3-Day for a Cure.

Names, and the Cancer Ripple Effect

Today we leave for San Diego to begin our three day, sixty mile journey in an effort to help eradicate breast cancer and all other forms of cancer.  

As I've strung the each beads onto the necklaces that bear the names of both cancer victims and survivors alike, thoughts have popped in to say hello and ask for consideration and musing.  

I personally know or knew some of these individuals.  Others are names given to me by close friends and family.  And some are people I never knew, sent to me by people that I have never met.  Who are they?  Who were they?  How did cancer influence their lives?  Who lost a parent or a sibling or a son or a daughter or a grandparent or a cousin or a friend? 

Coming from all walks of life and all levels of life experience, these people all share one common, always painful and often tragic bond.

I rarely cry.  Before last night, I don't recall when the last time was that I really, really cried.  Watching the season finale of The Big C punched me in the gut and dredged up old feelings of loss and grief.    A teenage boy learns that his mother has terminal cancer, but unable to deal with is own feelings, he stifles his emotions and attempts to distract himself with other things, primarily his social life.  Looking in his mother's purse for money, he finds a key to a storage unit with his name on it.  Curious, he finds the storage unit and opens it up.  His mother had filled it up with beautifully wrapped gifts, one for each of his birthdays and Christmases and graduations that she knew she would never see.  The realization that his mother was going to die finally hit him.  And she sat down amongst the gifts, and sobbed.

I sobbed right along with him, remembering my little brothers and the loss and devastation that they experienced when our mother died, and how they, too, seemed to distract themselves with other things while she was sick, and after.  

I'm not fully certain how they finally dealt with their emotions.  Perhaps they didn't.  Maybe they still are.  But the death of a parent at an early age causes a ripple effect that extends into future, both near and far.

I will be back in four days with a full report.  Thank you again for your love, support, and words of encouragement as I have prepared physically, financially, and emotionally for this event.

How to Eat a Drumstick