It's Race for Hope weekend

I am sitting it out this year due t financial restriction. I actually an pay for it but being 9/10 unemployed makes it irresponsible to use my money for the trip, not to mention it would also mean plunging my friend deeper into dept or going alone. Being adult about a situation sucks.

That said, I was thinking last night about writing a post about how I am really okay with not going this year.  I've gone three years in a row now and the last two I have left Washington with the thought, "I'll sit next year out."  Not spending money on the trip, job or no job, means a better argument for another indulgent trip at another point in the year; maybe attend a film festival in the summer, it has been a few years since I've been to Atlantic City, or how about Halloween in Disney.  I reasoned that I have seen a lot of the Capitol and could not readily come up with non race related things to do this weekend.

All of that is true and honestly leading up to it,  I've been great about it.  I've received countless emails about registration,  laughed about the fact that the year I don't go is the year David Cook finally does a team shirt, and replied no to the invitation to a team lunch.  Nothing fazed me but as I sat down just now looking at photos of my former teammates preparing or arriving I was hit with a stomach full of sad. 

I've never realized how much the race means to me, exactly.  I always feel inspired while I am there, and good about somehow helping pave the road toward a cure.  Sure there is a sense of unity  while standing on the mall surrounded by thousands of people in matching shirts all there for one reason but, aside from my small circle I am rather reserve and not really one for "community" or groups.  Once the speeches end I just walk away from everyone else and explore Washington.

I realize now though, that, while my feet are walking, my heart stays with the other people, my people.  Because, while I might not know most of their names I do know their pain, have shared their tears, exchanged their smiles, and listened to their triumphs.   These aren't faceless strangers, they are my family of hope and this year I am missing the reunion.