THE RACE FOR HOPE

It is actually really hard for me to write this without sounding cliché because if you weren't there it is impossible for you to understand what it was like to be a part of it. The greatest speakers and writers (neither of which I consider myself) would have issues because words can never do justice to what I’ve been through. It hits on every sense; to see and hear the stories you actually can feel the hope, the passion, and pain of the participants. Everyone there has a story, everyone there is or knows someone who has heard "you have brain cancer," so everyone gets it. The smell of grass and the taste of ice pops will forever more bring me back to 11,000 or so smiling people.

You read that right, smiling. Every single person there is smiling, happily awaiting the day when there is no longer a need for a Race for Hope. Until that day we run or walk. And we cry, you bet your booty we cried!

We cried for those we've lost. We cried for the pain of those who fought and those who are still fighting. We cried tears of joy for every person who heard the seemingly insurmountable odds and said I will not be a statistic; I will be a survivor. Most important, we cried together. There is something to be said about knowing you are not alone; to know that if this monster rears its ugly face in your life you have an army behind you and these people are strong! I hope you never have a brain tumor but if you ever do, these are the people you want on your side.

There was a girl honored, her name is Jaclyn Murphy. She is a big lacrosse fan. When she was diagnosed her spirits were broken. She was sick and frail and to cheer her up, her father would point at a picture of a lacrosse player that hung in the hospital and he would tell her that one day that would be her. She didn’t believe him. With nothing left to lose, her father got in contact with a woman's lacrosse team and the team adopted her as their little sister. They started calling and e-mailing, having too many people supporting her not to fail, Jaclyn got better. She's cancer free today and she wants to help others to fight as well. She told her parents how all kids deserve a team behind them and they created a charity that pairs pediatric brain tumor patients with college teams.

And then there is David Cook. Last year he joined the race in support of his brother Adam, who was diagnosed with a brain tumor in 1998, and had been battling a relapse for two years. Last May, the younger Cook ran the 5k without a word, met with survivors, and talked with fans about the importance of the race. He then stood on a stage in front of 9 thousand people and explained that Adam had actually passed away the night before. He tearfully promised that, even though, "I lost one," that he would be back this year, "and every year that they will have me." It was that moment, as I watched Cook stand in the rain (via the internet) on an unseasonably cold day in Washington, that I swore that this year I would be there. I wanted more than anything to have been there that day because, although my aunt (and now Adam) had lost, we could not give up the fight. In March, I officially joined team David Cook because even if he didn't go I wanted to be there.

Sunday rolled around and, needless to say, Cook kept his promise and then some. Not only did he come but he was surrounded by his younger brother Andrew, their father Stan, mother Beth, step-mother Viki, and step-father Grenvell. Not only that, but the Cook family was joined by Cook's bassist Monty Anderson, Ryan Star and his band mate Dallin Applebaum (both of whom opened for part of Cook's Declaration Tour and were on tour with him when Adam died) Star's wife Halle, and Star's parents and every single one of them wore an "in memory of Adam Cook" tag.

After meeting with his team of 300 or so members, Cook went to the survivors’ tent once again, and then he went to the race line to meet up with his support system. What happened next, it was only a coincidence that I saw it.

The survivors were each given a yellow balloon and as they started running, I noticed the Cook men were standing directly across the street from where I was photographing the survivors, and all three of them were holding on to the same yellow balloon. Then I saw the most beautiful thing; Stan, Andrew, and David all looked to heaven and let the balloon go to Adam. No fanfare, no media attention just a simple moment that reminded me, just because we don't see our loved ones anymore, it doesn't mean they are gone.

Quick stats:
*I shattered my goal of $200 with an amazing $440.00!
*David Cook's Team for a Cure (which I was a part of) currently has achieved $200,000!!
*and most notably, the race earned $2.3 million overall so far

Final totals won't be in until the donating closes August 1.