But Mayet was not in that thirty percentile. She invited me to join the race. "For Aunt Suzie," she said. "Join our race for the cure team! [click to visit link] TEAM WHIZZIES.
So, I got up early, bright eyed and bushy tailed, met up with Team Whizzies at the start line, and bang!
We took off from the start line amid cheers. And through the race we were encouraged by cheerleaders wearing pink ribbons over their hearts.
Everytime I came to a hill, I asked myself why am I here on an early, gorgeous Sunday morning while everyone at home is snuggled up warm in bed, my lungs gasping for precious air, and my legs buckling beneath my jiggly rolls?
Then I look to my left... a survivor, indicated by the special pink hats they wear... and to my right a fighter, her head bald as a new born babe's... both running abreast me. And when they smiled at me, they're eyes twinkling with determination, I knew I had absolutely nothing to complain about!
What's a little sweat? What's a short-lived charlie horse? What's a blister on my pinky toe? What's thirty five minutes of our day compared to a life time of courage and a generation of bravery?
No more than thrity-five minutes later, Team Whizzies (three of six members anyway) met to compare hill challenge stories and personal bests.
I must confess, races are really about personal bests. But today we ran for these women...







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