The Race

Image by Sydney Rae

Today I ran my first Komen race. I started running recently, after my second baby. The daily life stressors sometimes just made me feel like I just wanted to stand up and run away. And that is exactly what I did and boy, did it help! Running around the neighborhood gives me 30 minutes of greatly needed time just for me and my thoughts.

Heather, now a 1 year survivor who had ran the year before motivated us to participate in this event as a group. Our family and friends could join. I admit I was excited about the actual running part but what I was not too excited about was the recruiting; my family members don’t live in Houston and to be honest they are not the most athletic people I know.

Claudia, Heather and Karen in the 2018 Komen Race for the Cure

But the stars aligned. Just like a miracle my whole family came to Houston for an unplanned last minute visit, and I was able to convince them to join us. I thought it would be a great opportunity to exercise and at the same time support and donate for a good cause. But what I didn’t know is how that race could light up so many memories and emotions.

The amount of pink survivor shirts filled the streets like a wave. Not everyday you have the chance to see these women yelling out loud “I survived breast cancer!”. Actually, these women are usually camouflaged with wigs, pixie cuts, reconstructions, prosthesis or fashion makeovers. One thing is not noticing these women as they walk around us and other is to be able to see the real impact this disease has as clear as water, or should I say as clear as pink?

It was hot and it was humid. Around thousands of people I was just one more. I thought about my patients. I thought about my friends. I thought about my mother. I noticed bibs in others back as I ran and I read them: in memory of My Mom, My Sister, My Friend. With watery eyes and a little choked up I realized that we were all the lucky ones: the ones who found it early, the ones who had a response to treatment, the ones who did not inherit the mutation, the ones who never had it. I was so fortunate to be alive and to be running this race with my mom, my family and my friends by my side.

I realized that we were all the lucky ones: the ones who found it early, the ones who had a response to treatment

I stood in the finish line for a while, cheering the survivors. I could see the grandmother in a wheelchair pushed by her grandson, the mother of 3 crossing the finish line with her children, the woman that looked just too young to have had breast cancer. And then, I saw my mom getting closer to the finish line. She didn’t want to walk through the survivor finish line. My husband and one of her friends convinced her to do it. As my sister and I waited for her, we could see her walking timidly through, getting cheered by many other women, some who were survivors just like her. After wiping tears from her cheeks she raised her arms. She made it through the race. She made it through breast cancer. We hugged. We cried. I really am the lucky one.

Dr. Claudia Cotes is a Radiologist specialized  in Breast Imaging at The Rose, a non-profit organization that provides breast imaging and diagnostic services for underserved women in Houston