I’ve always been a runner. It’s something that comes naturally to me.
I started racing in the fifth grade and was eventually recruited for track and cross-country in college. I’ve often considered my ability to not just run but run fast a gift.
Growing up, whenever you’d find me on a track, you wouldn’t have to look far to find my number one fan – my mom – cheering along the sidelines. She loved seeing me succeed as much as I loved beating the competition.
Shortly after my college running career came to a close, my mom was diagnosed with stage four ovarian cancer. Less than two months later, she passed away.
To say this was a shock would be an understatement. I no longer needed her to root for me at races, but she had been my constant cheerleader in every aspect of life – from choosing the right college to deciding where I wanted to go in my career. All of a sudden, she was gone.
When I was able to move past the grieving stage, the emotions that I was left with were frustration and fear. Frustration that her cancer hadn’t been caught sooner. Fear that I was next.
Even today, over six years later, there is no accurate screening for ovarian cancer. It’s a disease that if caught early is treatable but unfortunately that doesn’t happen often.
It’s not my nature to sit back and wait for something bad to happen. I started seeking ways that I could, even in a small way, help. Unfortunately at the time, it was difficult to find events dedicated solely toward ovarian cancer.
Then in 2009, my sister learned that the first ever T.E.A.L. Walk would happen in Brooklyn, N.Y., and that its goal was to help raise awareness about the disease and fund research. We jumped at the chance to form a team. And not just any team – Lorraine’s Team, named after our mom.
The latest walk took place on Saturday, September 7. Our 14-member team – the largest to date – raised the most we have yet, just over $1500. After seeing thousands in attendance, I knew much more had been collected, too, and would go toward finding a better detection method.
The walk also celebrated its fifth anniversary that weekend, and I’m proud to say that I haven’t missed one.
You’d think that this would be a sad day for me each year, and while the event does, of course, make me think of my mom, there is also so much to be positive for. Seeing the survivors on stage during opening ceremonies reminds me that there is hope. And the outpouring of encouragement and help I receive from friends and family each year – including members who travel from all over the northeast to be there – helps me know that I’ve always had a support system behind me, even if I lost one of the key players.
For the first time ever this year, the T.E.A.L. Walk also included a T.E.A.L. Run. As I crossed the finish line with one of my best times since college, I couldn’t help but wonder if my mom was somewhere cheering me on. It certainly seemed like a race she wouldn’t have wanted to miss.