This morning, the streets of my town ran pink, as three thousand women and men began walking the Michigan Breast Cancer 3 Day. Twenty miles a day, for three days, and each and every one of those three thousand walkers committed to raise $2200 for breast cancer research. If they don't raise it, they're on the hook for it themselves. That's a big commitment, and that's not even counting the weeks and months of training to prepare their bodies for three days solid, putting one foot in front of the other until they've gone 60 miles.
I went to the first cheer station this morning and stood and clapped. I hoped to see my friends, but they had passed by before I got there, so I stayed and cheered for others.
Astonishingly, most of the walkers were thanking those of us who were cheering, as if they didn't absolutely deserve it. I saw t-shirts that said "Save the Tatas," and my personal favorite, "Save Second Base." I saw people carrying banners honoring mothers, daughters, wives and friends. I saw women with big breasts, women with small breasts, and women whose flat-fronted t-shirts suggested they had a very personal reason for making this journey.
Tomorrow my daughter turns six. By the time she turns 26, or even sixteen, there might be a cure for this disease, thanks in large part to thousands of people dressed in pink, moving forward as one, with great purpose.
So thank you, everyone, for walking.
