Well, 14 years ago, I was sitting in my home office when I heard a commercial on KYW about the upcoming Mother's Day Race for the Cure. At the time, I was a 36 year old single mom with two young daughters, Devin who was just about 7 and Jessica, who was almost 5.  The commercial noted that ONE of every EIGHT women will get breast cancer.  I'm not sure exactly why that affected me as it did, but I kept thinking about it.  ONE in EIGHT!  I don't think I even knew anyone who had had breast cancer then, but those odds just astounded me.  ONE in EIGHT.  Which means that, between me and my two daughters, we had a THREE in EIGHT chance it could affect one of us ... oh my God, I thought.  I felt I needed to do something, but as a single mom, I didn't have the financial means to make a large contribution so I decided to do what I could ... I registered for the Mother's Day Race for the Cure.

Being at the Race that first year was an unbelievable experience. 

As I said, I was lucky that breast cancer hadn't touched anyone close to me - yet - but being there with tens of thousands of people, all there to support the same common cause ... something that affects so many lives ... and seeing the multitude of people wearing the "In Memory of" or "In Celebration of" placards ... it was an experience that's beyond words. 

I remember walking that year behind a little girl who was holding the hand of what was clearly her grandmother; she was wearing an "In Memory of my mommy" sign pinned to the back of her little shirt ... and the really pretty young girl standing next to us while we waited in the port-a-potty line...she had that "California blonde" look with a long ponytail extending from the back of her baseball cap ... wearing shorts and t-shirt and just looking young and alive.  I thought how sweet it was that such a young woman would give her time to do this ... and then she turned around ... and her baseball cap, as well as her t-shirt, identified her as a survivor.  NOT possible I thought.  She's too young!  And seeing so many women there clearly in the midst of treatment, either bald or wearing hats or bandannas ... fighting for their lives ... with their families ... young children like my own ... scared because their mommies are sick ... or might die.  

I walked that first year with just my girls ... it was only 5 kilometers - 3 miles - but it seemed to take forever.  30,000 people pushing through the narrow streets of Philadelphia do not move very quickly.  And we had to make a couple stops along the way as Devin and Jessica had to rest or get a drink ... we even had to make a "pit stop" at the Four Seasons because Jessica couldn't wait just a little longer to get back to the port-a-potties ... but we continued along and finally crossed that Finish Line.  I forget the time, but it was laughably long ... but we donated about $300 that we had raised. 

My little one said, "Mommy, I'm glad we did this.  It was a good thing.  Can we do it again next year?"  And I knew we would.

So, that started my journey with Susan G. Komen Race for the Cure.  Since that first year, my daughters and I, and now my husband of the past five years, have continued our involvement and I've taken on more and more volunteering opportunities ... initially just working the registration tables from 5:00 a.m. on Race day... then doing it other times leading up to and during Race weekend ... volunteering for the Pink Tie Ball ... and even being an ambassador to giant Dietz and Watson pigs.  And each year, thanks to the ease of email, I reach out to more and more people for donations.  My email blasts requesting contributions go out to a couple hundred people - friends, family, business associates ... anyone else I might know that I have an email address for.  I've raised somewhere between $2,000 and $3,000 each of the past several years ... yet still wish I could still do more. 

Each year that we volunteer at the Race for the Cure, I am moved immeasurably ... moved by thousands of people who come out ... by the love, the hope, the endurance and strength I feel amongst those people.  I am humbled by the people who come up to the registration table and thank me for volunteering, when it is those people thanking me that I admire ... the people who have battled breast cancer, whether personally or by supporting a love one.   And each year, it never ceases to amaze me when, in the middle of the chaos - and the registration tables are always chaotic - I take a moment to look around.  And everywhere I look, I see pink - pink shirts and hats, pink necklaces, pink wigs, pink boas and pink tutus (often even worn by men!) ... and the thousands and thousands of people all connected for a few hours in a special bond of camaraderie, all supporting the same cause.

I often get asked why I am so passionate about this cause when breast cancer hasn't touched me or my immediate family. 

But breast cancer has touched me.  And I do not mean by the fact that, since my first Race 14 years ago, one of my best friends has now battled the disease, or that my new mother in law as well as one of my co-workers are survivors, or even that this April, my doctor found a lump in my breast that was, thank God, benign, but scary as all hell nonetheless.  Breast cancer has touched me because of the fact that ONE in EIGHT women WILL get breast cancer.  Because I am a woman, and I have 2 daughters, and a mother, and 2 sisters, and 2 nieces, and many friends...and because breast cancer touches ALL OF US at one point or another.  So I intend to continue MY fight to find a cure - because regardless of how far we've come, there is still so much more work to do until a cure is found ... and there are still so many people who need to be educated -- and even though I know my efforts are just a tiny bit of what's needed, everything we all do, every person we all reach, makes a difference in bringing us closer to finding a cure.