An attitude of gratitude: Mile 1

As promised, I want to thank all of the people who helped me smash my Leukemia and Lymphoma Society fundraising goal into itty-bitty pieces. I am so grateful for all of the kindness and support I have received along the way from dozens and dozens of people. I only have records for people who donated or bought raffle tickets or entered the fun run by writing a check or using their credit cards. All of you cash people are going to get a mile too, but I'm sorry I can't rattle off all of your names.

For privacy's sake, I'm just going to refer to everyone by first name, or first name and last initial where necessary.

Thanks to you, I raised $3,734.19! The romantic in me hopes that our $3,700 and change will be the magic bit of money that completes funding for an important study or helps some very deserving people get live-saving prescriptions they might not otherwise be able to afford.

Most of all, I want lymphoma to go away and leave my mom alone. I don't know if $3,700 is a sufficient bribe, but I sure hope so.

Okay, ready? Here we go. I will dedicate each mile of the race to people who have helped and supported me along the way, both in training and fundraising. A half-marathon is 13.1 miles long. However, there were far more than 13.1 people who supported me, so each mile will get split among several people.

Mile 1 is the first mile of the race. After standing around in the start corral for an hour or more, it is tempting to burst over the line and run like the wind. This is all well and good for a 100-meter dash, but then what about the other 13 miles? It's important to remember that the beginning is a time to take it slow and find your rhythm.

I'd like to dedicate this mile to three people whom I've known for a combined total of 85 years.

First, there's Greg. He is my oldest friend on the planet. I think I met him in second grade. Greg's dad died of cancer while we were still in elementary school, and I went to a school dance with him in seventh grade. He married a wonderful woman coming up on ten years ago now and they have three lovely children. We have a tradition of calling each other on our birthdays to catch up on each other's lives. His birthday is three days before the race. He told me to just call him after.

Next, there's Jody. I think she's my second-oldest friend on the planet. Word of advice: never move your kids six weeks before the end of the school year. I moved to Georgia at the end of April 1983, and if it hadn't been for Jody I don't think I would have survived it. She and I were inseparable as teenagers, and then she went off and got married even younger than I did. Her parents moved away and she now lives in their house, the same house she grew up in, with her lovely husband and two sons about whom she writes thoughtful and often hilarious blog entries.

Finally, there's Colin. We bonded over the fact that we were both transplants from Maryland plopped down into the Georgia school system against our will. We were good friends in high school and college, and I think there was talk at one point of hiking the Appalachian Trail, but life intervened. After many years in California leading what sounded like a very idyllic life, he and his lovely bride moved to the Midwest and are now raising two seriously adorable children. They are actually planning a trip to see family near me in the next few months. Hopefully we can manage to get together while they're in the neighborhood.

Thanks to all three of you for your friendship and support. I will think of you with great affection as I take those first 2,500 or so steps toward joining the ranks of half-marathoners.