A Very Different Broad Street Run
By Jill Sterbakov
Three years ago on my blog, Jill’s Running Away, I wrote an account of my participation in the Broad Street Run, a 10-mile race here in Philly that happens on the first Sunday in each May. It was a long piece that addressed how I felt at each stage, the conditions and the race itself. I was happy with that race, because I achieved my Broad Street personal record at it, a time of 91 minutes and 11 seconds. The story, however, was a solitary one. While I enjoyed the race and loved the results, I wasn’t exuberant, because it was just me. All about me.
I have since figured out how to fix that, and now the Broad Street Run is not just another race to me, but an event that fills me with joy every time I think about it. One approach I figured out two years ago. Drag my poor, hapless sister, who was just a few months from her recovery from cancer treatment, down the 10-mile trek with me in 90-degree weather. Decorate her shirt so that it screams to everyone who sees her that she was running Broad Street ’10 after doing chemo in ’09. Pester her every 10 steps to make sure she’s ok, and then tell her to suck it up when she complains of muscle fatigue. Finally, run that last quarter mile past her kids and husband and all of the other screaming fans to the finish line to collect my very favorite post-race high five/hug ever. She accomplished something major for herself that day, and I was elated to have a front-row seat.
Cancer, however, is an evil f*** that resurfaced for Shelly and has deprived her of so many things she should have a right to, including the ability to run Broad Street again. I hate cancer. I really, really, really hate cancer.
This leads me to my second approach, which I used this year. Participate in Broad Street withDetermiNation (I’m on the committee), which raises money for the American Cancer Society. Everybody at ACS/DetermiNation hates cancer as much as I do. But the ACS doesn’t just hate cancer, it fights it with advocacy, research and support services. DetermiNation has given me something I’ve been desperate for: a way to hit back.
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