I set out, as I do on most Saturday mornings, for a 20 minute walk to my yoga class. Today, as I rounded the corner to West Eighth Avenue, I saw a stream of pink flowing down the hill. These were the dedicated folks who were walking either 30 kilometres in one day or 60 kilometres over two days as part of the Weekend to End Womens Cancers. The walkers were adorned in PINKpink shirts, skirts, hair, bangles, umbrellas, boas. I love the pink boas best, so flamboyant and celebratory, cheeky and playful. Most notions about cancer are anything but playful, however, with twirling boas, these walkers were reclaiming fun. As I stood on this corner, watching this cascade of pink-clad walkers, I was filled first with gratitude, and then struck with guilt. Why was I watching and not walking?
I am a breast cancer survivor. I am grateful to those who participate in this Weekend, because not only do they take on the physical challenge of walking, they fundraise. Since 2005, these walkers, donors and volunteers have raised more than $16 million for cancer research. I am fairly confident that I am alive today because of the medical advances that provided the chemotherapy cocktail that I absorbed into my veins for six months back in 2003. I am also grateful to those who walk because of their demonstrated support to their friends, lovers, and family members for whom they walk. All of us have been touched by cancer. When considering that one in seven Canadian women will be diagnosed with breast, ovarian, or any of the other womens cancers, it is not hyperbolic to say that cancer touches us all.
As I crossed the street, I fell in step with the women and men in pink. I began talking with a few of them about the route, and whether they were walking the one or two day route. I thanked them for walking. They smiled and assured me they were happy to be doing this.
My pace was matched with one woman in particular, and we carried on side by side for awhile. Kim was walking alone this year, this being her eighth year in the Walk. In years past, she has walked with friends, but this year life got in the way. I asked Kim about her motivation for walking. She told me that she was a breast cancer survivor and has been walking every year since. I suspect that Kim also walks because it reminds her just how alive she is.
You seem to know a lot about this Walk, Kim said to me. I told Kim that I, too, was a breast cancer survivor, that I had come out several years to cheer on the walkers, but that something always got in the way of me participating in the Weekend Walk myself. In fact, I have had the brochure about this years Weekend Walk on my desk for the last three months. I explained, (as I veered into justification) that I had run several years in the Run for the Cure, including the year I was bald from chemo treatments. I confessed to Kim that I felt guilty for not walking in this Weekend Walk, especially because I am fit (and can walk) and I am not intimidated by fundraising.
You should know better than most people that guilt is a useless thing, Kim said. Life is too short to have things like guilt floating around. People have busy lives, things happen, people do what they can do. You should not allow yourself to feel guilty. I felt relieved, knowing that Kim was right. Guilt is not a useful emotion.
Kim and I walked together for 10 minutes or so. During our brief chat, we discovered we were both eight years post cancer. We talked about the fear of our oncologists retiring. We talked about losing our hair, how it came back at first in the form of soft curls, and the joys of colouring our hair now. Although we had just met, we were not strangers. We shared the same story of fear, of rebirth, hope and engagement with life. I feel gratitude now at having met Kimthis vibrant angel with whom I shared this brief segment of my Saturday. Some sunny, extraordinary Saturday in August on which people in pink boas walk and walk for two days to celebrate lives and promote living. Of course, I feel gratitude, and Kim helped me dispense with the guilt. Thank you, Kim!
Kim and I parted with a hug, before I ventured down the street to my yoga studio. I dedicated my yoga practice on this Saturday to Kim and all the other walkers, known and unknown, and to all the women today who are unable to walk but living with hope (and yes, fear) as they fight their good fight against cancer. I dedicated my yoga practice today to my healthy body, my temple. Namaste: From my light to your light.
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Lori Charvat lives in Vancouver, where she operates Sandbox Consulting, focusing on the people side of business. She describes herself as a passionate foodie, wino and hot yoga junkie who is very fond of living.
