We headed to Paradise to pick up the kiddos then home to veg. Well I vegged and ate and did dishes and laundry and ran to Fleet Feet to get the hubby some socks and us all Livestrong yellow bracelets for the race we were volunteering for later. Not a lot of rest and probably not enough to eat.
|turn at the 1 mile race in Bidwell Park|
|my boys at the 5k turn around point near the Manzanita Bridge|
The boys and I drew signs in yellow chalk on the ground along the course at the 1 mile and the 5k turns on the footbridges. We cheered people on at the first bridge then headed to the other end of the park for the second round of cheering. Although it was almost a mile and a half those kids were troopers. We drew more signs with the limited amount of chalk left and yelled and cheered and sent them over the bridge and back down the park telling them how thankful we were they were there to run/walk for such a wonderful cause, how this survivor thanks them, how they are making a difference literally one step at a time.
We cleaned up and headed back. I was looking forward to finishing up with the last people and celebrating with the group. Unfortunately one runner at the finish line reported to one of our volunteers that a little boy said he had lost his mom at the last foot bridge where I was and they asked me to go back and check. I was already almost 3/4 of a mile back and in frustration I sent the kids together back to the start/finish line I headed back the way I came from. I would not be able to live with myself if I hadn't checked but I was tired and cranky and pretty sure that I did a good check of the area on both sides of the creek before I left.
Although I had no reason to be upset with that volunteer I was a little. She didn't ask or have the hubby (who has little knowledge of the layout of the park) ask how far away I was, she just assumed I was "closer than she was". I had already run 15 miles that morning and being a part of the finish and the festivities meant a lot to me. I didn't need anyone else to know that before we set out on our assignments but in my heart that was what I was looking forward to most. I cried for the 2 miles back to the bridge then back to the finish line where I got a hug and a cookie for being the nice one who did what needed to be done. I was mad at myself for feeling so selfish and sad for me for having missed out.
The "lost" boy had obviously been running with his mom but had probably run up ahead and turned around and not seen her. She probably made it around the corner and caught up with him and they had likely finished the race together since no one reported a missing child. There was no lost little boy when two of the runners re-ran and checked the course. No one called me to tell me that the course had been cleared. It would have taken a volunteer from the finish line 5 minutes to drive to the bridge that it took me 15 minutes to walk back to bridge and looking everywhere in case I missed something before turning around and walking all the way back 30 minutes to Sycamore Glenn. I was really mad at the lady who ran another 20 minutes to the finish line before reporting a boy who was "lost" to a volunteer when I was standing 20 yards away from where she had seen him with a telephone in my hand when she crossed the bridge. She didn't send the boy to me or even try to help him. She left him to finish this "important" race in spite of someone being in trouble. That really hurt my heart. We headed home. Off and on for the rest of the night was a battle against crying and feeling angry.
I know that the people who were in charge of the race did a great job and I'm looking forward to working with them again. I actually can't wait. This was an event I was excited about working on all year. I'm sad it didn't turn out for me the way I had hoped but I also understand that things happen... I just wish it didn't feel like they always have to happen to me. That was more than just a celebration of my survivorship and a way to raise awareness for a wonderful charity that brings funds to the research for a cure. For me it was more than the anniversary of the day Lance Armstrong was diagnosed with cancer that lead us to this point with an amazing charity and local chapter. That day was the also the celebration of life of Vicki Gelletti, one of my Aunt Sandy's best friends. She was an amazing women and she fought so hard against cancer for so long. I'm thankful she's at peace and free from pain but this world will miss the angel that walked among us.
I love and miss you Grandpa Derril, Grandpa Dave, Uncle James and Uncle Larry and Vicki too. There are so many more angels up there who have been taken by cancer and so many survivors who endured and overcame cancer still with us on Earth but no matter where you are, you are all in my heart.