Today is about one number.... zero

 The morning of Father's Day, Sunday, June 21, 2015, was a very emotional and solemn, yet jovial, time for me. Since January 15, I had tirelessly devoted the majority of my waking hours (and plenty of non-waking hours as well) and energy to what would culminate in this one morning.

As my favorite guy drove us to Arlington at 7 a.m., I sat in the back seat of the fire truck (come on, it's a big red Silverado) with a subdued attitude but my mind racing a mile a minute.

Today was the ZERO 2015 Capital Area Run/Walk.

 We parked the truck and walked a few blocks to get to the courtyard where all the festivities would take place and where I would meet up with my team, Denny's Shotgun Riders.

Walking in silence and trying to remember to breathe, I saw my parents slightly ahead of me, walking hand in hand, and my heart skipped a beat.

That right there.

The 66 year-old lovebirds still holding hands after all these years.

That is what makes all of this worth while.

ZERO is about keeping families together.

Personally, I joined ZERO to help keep MY family together.

My family.

My two parents and myself (and Prowler, of course)

That's my family.

My first goal of the day was to get my team together for the first time (minus my sweet Gloria who was with my SC family contingent). I could not have asked for a better group of human beings to spend this morning with and to walk in honor of my dad. Words cannot express how much each and every one of them means to me.

Denny's Shotgun Riders consisted of five runners, four walkers, a prostate cancer warrior and the best mom/caregiver/wife ever put on the face of this earth.

 To my delight, Denny's Shotgun Riders was also graced with a Superkid!

Though storms ravaged our area the night before and lightning even struck my home, God graced us with a beautiful sunlit sky and cool breeze that morning.

Julie and Colony of ZERO had quickly become our fast friends and on this day, I truly believe we were officially united as one family.

Jimmy Charles started us off with his song, Superman, and as my grandmother's light shined down on us, my heart filled up and the tears flowed.
It all hit me. This is real. We are here because my Dad has cancer.
We are here because it is Father's Day and we're honoring my Dad by showing him yet again he is not alone in this battle. 

It's the hardest thing I'll ever have to do

Swallow my pride, face the truth

Go through hell, feel the fear

Praise the Lord that I'm still here

And I still got more miles here on this road

And now I'm here to help you all to understand....

that you can't fight this battle on your own.

You ain't Superman.

After the song, we all released balloons, for all those affected by this coward of a disease.

Then it was time to run four miles!

Or.....do the rational thing in my mind, and WALK four miles with these three wonderful friends while carrying our team banner!

"Denny's Shotgun Riders

Proudly wearing light blue for Denny!"

Jeff" Lighting Rod" Stamp, Brian and Melissa were ready to take off!

Mom and Dad were proudly seeing us off at the start and playing photographer! 

I knew I had earned a lawn sign along the route but wasn't sure where it would be placed.
I happened to look to the right not long after we started our walk and there it was! 


As we were walking the first two miles, I was able to catch Jason.....

 and then Melissa and Brian as they were already running back the last two miles.

Jeff and Jason were the first of our team to finish the race.
 Then Jeff, Brian and Melissa came to join us and bring home the banner and our love for Dad together through the finish line!

We did it!
Whether we ran, we walked or we were the team cheerleaders, we did it.
We were united for Denny.

A few weeks prior, I had been asked by ZERO if I would be willing to speak at the race - to tell my and Dad's story.  I was humbled and honored to do such a thing. I am not a procrastinator by any means but for some reason this speech was the hardest for me to prepare. I took on my "Let's Talk Live!" interview a week prior with no prep at all and came through with flying colors. However, speaking at the race in front of survivors, caregivers, families who had lost men to this disease was a whole different story. This meant something.

Two days before the race, I started to put words together and came up with a good two-page, five-minute write-up. I figured I'd pair it down and get to basics on Saturday. Well, that didn't happen and Sunday morning at 6 a.m. I was tweaking my speech. It still didn't feel right and I was not feeling good about it. I printed it out, folded it up and threw it in my bag.

As the morning went on and I saw more and more people with "in memory of" signs, I knew that reading a five-minute speech wasn't going to be the right thing to do. No one wanted to stand there, hot and sweaty, after running four miles and listen to some girl talk about how her dad had cancer for the fifth time.  So I did something, I have never done before.

I scrapped the speech and went with my gut.

I needed to be me and this needed to be real and come from my heart.

I was truly in awe of all the people who had shown up that morning. As I spoke about my Dad's early diagnosis, how important early detection is, and all that he has endured, I instantly started to feel a bit selfish.  The majority of the people who I saw standing out there listening intently to me were daughters and wives who had lost their fathers and husbands to prostate cancer. 

I suddenly felt like the luckiest girl in the world.

Why?

Because my father, who is battling prostate cancer for the fifth and worst time, is right there with his eyes fixed on me. He is here. He is alive. He is witnessing every bit of this moment. I am beyond ecstatic that I am doing this race while my father is still here and can be part of it. Others who were there were racing in memory of someone. I can't even imagine how that feels.

I have said so many times through this fundraising and awareness effort that this is not about me. This is about Dad.

Well, right then as I was speaking and looking into the eyes of these people, I saw Sandra Ham with tears rolling down her face. I had never met Sandra but I knew who she was because for about two weeks she surpassed me as the top fundraiser for this event. I learned from her fundraising page that she had formed a team in memory of her husband, Gordon. As I pointed out my dad to the crowd I saw Sandra turn around and they hugged.

It was then that Sandra Ham and Tara Nikituk joined me on the stage.

We were the top three individual fundraisers and top team fundraisers.

The three of us - women - were here fighting for an end to prostate cancer.

I was the lucky one.

Not because I was the top fundraiser. Not because my team was the top fundraising team.

But because I was doing all of this and still had my prostate cancer survivor.

Sandra and Tara had lost theirs.

This isn't about me. It never has been and never will be.

This isn't about me being the top individual fundraiser.

This isn't about my team being the top fundraising team. 

This is about my dad.

This is about Mr. Ham.

This is about Mr. Nikituk.

This is about bringing awareness to prostate cancer.

This is about promoting the importance of early detection.

This is about encouraging men to take control of their bodies and health.

This is about giving a voice to, and honoring, all of those men who have been affected, who are battling this disease, who unfortunately have lost their lives to this disease and for those who haven’t even been diagnosed yet.  

This is about raising money for a cure so that one day NO man will have to go through what my dad and all these other men have had to endure.  

This is about strong women supporting and loving their men.

This is about letting my dad and all men who are batting prostate cancer know

that they NEVER have to fight alone!  

This is about one number…. ZERO!

Zero pain and suffering

Zero psa levels

Zero prostate cancer!