Twin Powers Activate: A Real-Life Fairy Tale
John (black pants) and Daphne (blue capris): Not quite sure why this is only photo taken of momentous event
Once upon a time, there were a set of twins named John and Daphne. They were the children of a mother runner who sometimes falls under the mantle of “overly competitive.” John and Daphne were six years old, two months away from turning seven, with a big sister named Phoebe, who was 10 years old. Most of the time, the children were happy and loved each other greatly–but often they showcased their astounding abilities to bicker.
One weekend, the twins were signed up to run a 500-meter kids’ race in a faraway town called Bend in the lovely state of Oregon. They hadn’t trained specifically for the race, but all year they’d been running laps around their school. Every Tuesday morning, their mother would watch them and their classmates run and encourage them. Daphne had shown herself to be a dedicated, determined runner, doing lap after consistent lap with one of her two best friends, while her twin brother spent the time expanding his social skills, chatting with clusters of kids and occasionally running.
The morning of the race, the twins’ mother pulled Daphne aside and whispered in her ear, “Daphne, I have a great deal of faith in you as a runner,” the mother said, “I think you can do really well in it, maybe even win the race. Don’t worry about pacing yourself like you do at school–run as fast as you can for the whole race. I’ll be proud of you no matter what, but I think you can cross the line first.” The mother gave no such talk to John.
When all the five-, six-, and seven-year-olds lined up for the race, the mother and Phoebe held their breath. They exchanged excited, nervous looks. In a flurry, the pack was off. Rounding the corner, about a quarter of the way through the race, Daphne was ahead of John, about 10 children from the lead. With her arms pumping furiously and her legs clipping along, Daphne looked over her shoulder; a pack of children were closing in on her. Even from a distance, her mother could see Daphne switch into a higher gear–and she started to gain on the race leaders, leaving the pack in her dust. Her mother and older sister jumped up and down with glee. Near the halfway mark, the mother and sister could see Daphne catch up with the lead group of runners.
Substitute finish chute for red carpet, running duds for evening attire, take the cat away…
After that point, the mother and Phoebe lost sight of their little racers. They weren’t able to see them again until they headed down the finish chute–with John leading Daphne. The mother was astonished, since John had often stopped to walk when he, Daphne, and the mother ran together on Sundays that spring. A tall boy crossed the line first, with a few other boys close on his heels. Moments later, John and Daphne approached the finish line. Steps from the finish, Daphne turned on her afterburners, and she passed John an arm’s length from the finish line.
The mother and Phoebe exchanged startled glances. Ever-wise, Phoebe immediately instructed her mother, “We need to tell them they tied; otherwise John will get mad at Daphne.” The mother nodded in agreement. Phoebe and the mother waded past other parents and short runners. Greeting John and Daphne, the mother exclaimed, “Congratulations, you tied!” The boy twin immediately corrected her, saying “No, Daphne passed me at the very end–I am so proud of her!”
The mother’s eyes filled with happy tears that she’d raised such capable runners–and such supportive siblings.
Finish Line Perspective
Jody, me, Cynthia and SBS; just four mother runners with much to smile about.
One of the first pairs of women to our table at the ZOOMA Annapolis Expo on Friday was Cynthia and her BRF, Jody. Funny and down-to-earth, the two were chatting with us and cracking jokes within minutes of hanging out. I can’t remember how it came up, but Cynthia mentioned she was hoping to convince one of us to run the half-marathon with her tomorrow, Saturday. She’d even put up a plea on our Facebook page a few days earlier.
No, I immediately thought, because SBS, her pal Courtenay, and I had run a humid, surprisingly taxing 6.65 that morning, and Saturday was supposed to be a rest day for me. What’s more, my longest recent run was 7ish miles. I’d be breaking maaaaany of the rest-often, build-mileage-slowly rules I spew out here if I just up and went for 13.1 the following day.
But Cynthia mentioned she had cancer. Thyroid cancer. And that it had just come back after a six-year remission. So I asked her how fast she ran. “As fast as I’m supposed to run,” she answered in a way that made me laugh. Yep, I thought, I could spend a couple hours with this woman.
So before I could let my tired legs stop me, I said yes. On the condition that I could videotape her for the video I make for ZOOMA on race day. (A task, it turns out, is much more challenging that I thought it would be; I have like 37 minutes of footage of my arm swing and our conversation, and about 17 seconds of Cynthia running. So that’ll be a fun project for another day.)
Within the first mile, she told me she had three boys. 7, 5 and a sub-two-year-old. The older two, Jack and Sam, are adopted from Korea. Within three miles, she told me she didn’t just have thyroid cancer, but had cervical cancer, too. And two weeks before she was scheduled for a hysterectomy, she found out she was pregnant with her third son, her first pregnancy. Then we covered her husband, a Marine, who is now stationed at Quantico. But his job (and deployments) mean her family has moved quite a bit; every move means she has to find a new doctor she can trust and connect with.
It was a conversation where I kept silently asking myself, “Could I handle that? Could I handle that with her grace and sense of humor?”
Within a few more miles, she explained in more detail what it meant to her to have cancer back on her radar. “It feels like crap,” she replied. Tests show her thyroid cancer has returned, but it’s a not significant enough to operate on or hit with chemo or otherwise treat. She’s in a period of “watchful waiting.”
Yep. From a recent post on Cynthia’s website.
Watchful waiting: talk about painful. You’re not bad enough for us to take action, so we’ll let this sinister disease just hibernate in your body until it gets worse. In other words, you’re not here or there. You’re not sick or well. You’re not healthy or unhealthy. You’re in limbo, and guess what? We don’t know how long you get to stay in this lovely holding pattern.
I’m not sure I would have the fortitude to be running a half-marathon shortly after receiving such news, but for Cynthia, a BAMR if I ever met one, there was no question. And there was no question she would enjoy every step. Friday’s weather, a pea-soupy, rainy, tornado-y mix, had brought in a partly cloudy, slightly windy, crisp day that just forces you to run happy, to quote her shirt from the previous day.
The course was challenging but similarly rewarding; every uphill brought a suitably long, gentle downhill. Plus, we got to trot down the brick road of historic Annapolis and past a stately World War II Memorial. The views of the bay were delicious, as was the camaraderie among the runners. (There were a few turn-arounds, giving us ample times to cheer everybody on and high-five the pint-size cheerleaders.)
We only spent a couple hours together, but I confidently say Cynthia is a force. As she says in her blog, attitude is everything. And she’s got the ‘tude. Cancer clearly picked the wrong opponent. Again.
Cynthia isn’t going to stay in a holding pattern for anything–or any disease. She’s forging on, with the Nike Women’s Half-Marathon on her schedule in October and plenty of stroller-pushing runs with Jody before that. She’s got three boys to raise and two dogs (both female: she needed some estrogen in her house) to sweep up after and a husband to love and cherish.
The final hill. I was trying to get C to pass the woman in black, but turns out, the woman in black thought I was trying to get her to go faster. She thanked me after the race. So everybody wins.
She had run a 2:29 half-marathon, her second shot at that distance, 13 days prior to us taking on ZOOMA. (Another rule broken: I’m definitely not an advocate for two halves in two weeks.) But it was a rule-breaking kind of day, so I so wanted to help her nail another PR. Her stomach wasn’t on board though, and when she said she had to walk around mile 10.5, I knew that was painful for her to admit. A pit stop, her second of the race, up the road gave her some serious relief, and we finished blazing up an uphill, crossing the line in 2:31.
A PR would’ve been a perfect ending, but I now realize Saturday wasn’t about that. For her, it was about reminding every last cell in her body who is in charge. For me, it was about crossing an unplanned finish line and drawing such strength and inspiration from a source I didn’t even know existed 24 hours earlier.
Thank you, Cynthia, for 13.1 of the most important miles of my running career; I can’t wait to help you set a PR next year.
Live strong, Cynthia!
Our Breast Podcast
LaJean Lawson and SBS acting like, wait for it, boobs with the chicken logo of our podcast producer, Pagatim. (Come on, i had to go there!)
Sarah and Dimity talk with LaJean Lawson, the country’s foremost expert on sports bras and breast movement: This is a woman knows about ta-ta tamers. The ladies cover such topics as the biggest mistakes women make when it comes to sports bras and the best ways to minimize bounce. Along the way, LaJean enlightens us about how much large breasts really weigh, and she confesses to having done a 180-degree change on wearing two bras at one time. (She, ahem, supports it in certain situations.)
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