Making Strides Against Breast Cancer

Today, in all of its gray, damp, bone-chilling splendor, was the annual celebration of Making Strides Against Breast Cancer, the American Cancer Society's premier event focused on breast cancer. At 19 sites across New York and New Jersey (and dozens of others elsewhere in the country) we honored cancer survivors, remembered those we've lost to this disease, and worked together to help people stay well, to help people get well, and to fund research to find cures.  Cold, wind, and rain didn't stop hundreds of thousands of people from stepping out of their warm, comfortable homes to make a difference. As one woman said, "how can it? Walking in the rain ain't nearly as hard as walking after chemo."

I work the registration tent at Making Strides, and have for the last five Octobers.  It's a pretty amazing experience. Over the course of the day, I support one of five teams, each with about 18 volunteers, who are responsible for checking in and collecting funds from 20,000 walkers in the space of just a few hours. I'm their cheerleader, their supply runner, their bathroom-break-spotter, their answer-the-tough-questions-girl, and the one they look to for Freak-Out-First.

Freak Out First? Yeah.

The very coolest part of that job, apart from meeting a whole slew of AMAZING people with fantastic attitudes and such gracious willingness to something good for others, is the ability to cheer for the Making Strides Pacesetters.

Pacesetters are our top fundraisers -- individuals who, on their own, fundraise more than $2,500.00 for the fight against breast cancer. Now don't mistake -- every dollar raised to fight cancer is one for which we are unendingly grateful and we take every opportunity to say so.  But it takes a special brand of commitment, perhaps even a special brand of crazy, to be willing to fundraise constantly, every week without fail for a whole year - and that commitment earns a bit of Freak Out appreciation.  We clang cowbells. We whoop and cheer. We boogie down with whatever music is pumping through the park. We drape our Pacesetters in feather boas (perfect for wiping away the inevitable tear that falls) and fit their heads with special commemorative caps. And the delight on their faces -- and every other face in and surrounding the 3200 square foot registration tent -- wipes away any trace of cold.

Can you imagine any volunteer work that's more fun that greeting people and saying thank you? Than clapping and cheering and leading a squad of terrific people to do it? Than hugging everyone you see in joyous celebration, at the sheer exaltation of being alive and fighting to stay that way?  On days like today, I can't. Who can feel cold when surrounded by that much love and warmth?