Luminaria For Life

Day 286: After giving it some thought, I decided I could stay up past bedtime last night to put in a few more laps on the track and participate in the Luminaria Ceremony at the Relay For Life. As I started my first circuit, I spotted a familiar name on one of the bags. It caught me up short for a second until I remembered how small the world really is: our team captain (Park employee) is a cousin of my fishing buddy's brother-in-law's daughter's husband. Eddie (the brother-in-law), in whose honor the luminary had been created by our captain, passed away several years ago from cancer. Continuing my first lap of the evening, I was amazed at the number of names I recognized, each one a battler against the disease. Some were on the track with me, walking for the Cause. Others were there in the only way they could be, in spirit. Each name I read deepened my sense of connection. I had not realized how many of my friends' lives have felt the fear and grief which cancer brings.

It seems like such a small thing to walk a few laps, and maybe it feels like all you're doing is preaching to the choir, but for several years running, Eatonville had the highest per-capita participation in the country. The people of this small community raised thousands of dollars in support of cancer research, funds raised from registration fees and vendor donations (vendors commit 100% of their proceeds). In light of that, a little sweat and hot, tired feet aren't much to ask. I'll be back next year, you bet.

Muscle Now

Day 285: I'm not exactly sure how I wound up walking four hours on an asphalt track in 90-degree temperatures today. It had something to do with running into a Park acquaintance who happened to be a team captain in the Relay For Life, and a sad story about a lack of team members. The next thing I knew, I'd laid down $10 to register, had been given an official t-shirt which I'd stashed in the car, and was lining up behind the Survivors who took the first lap as a group. Then I started walking. No, "walking" is a poor word to use for what I was doing. They had a DJ and some lively music, and every time I went 'round, I danced the hundred feet in front of the stage. I won a hula hoop for the energy I put into the routine, and it was promptly decorated with purple ribbons by the team captain. From that point on, I did my laps with the hoop in constant motion around my wrist, over my head, or dancing with it as I passed the stage.

As the day went on, several of the Relay's committee members came up to me and expressed concern over whether I was getting enough water and food. "I'm fine," I said. "I took five minutes to have a salad and I just downed a pint of juice. I'm sweating and my skin's not clammy. I'm staying hydrated. Don't worry!" In fact, it felt better to be walking than sitting. I took a five-minute break at the team's booth and wished I'd kept moving.

Most (maybe all) of the teams managed vendors' booths selling anything from elastic bracelets and "neck coolers" to 15-minute massage sessions and reduced-rate memberships in a local fitness center. The headless jock in this photo cracked me up.