A man named Carroll

My sis and our bike crew captain ride by The Capitol.
Notice the trademark, over the top 3-Day ensembles.

I meet many people on my Susan G. Komen 3-Day for the Cure journeys.  Many become family.  Many become inspiration.  Many become the memories that sneak attack and make you laugh out loud, most often in places where laughing out loud is frowned upon.  And, many become keepers (click here to read more about the keepers).

In DC, last October, my sister and I were honored to join the Route Safety Crew.  We are alive today because of the many keepers on that crew that made it a priority to help the new chicks on bikes not get smushed by oncoming traffic.  Early on day one, as we rode past The Capitol, my sister and I noticed a man walking quickly, in line with other 3-Day walkers.  What caught our attention is that he didn't look like a 3-Day walker.  3-Day walkers wear insane costumes (like tutus and pink cheetah fairy wings - the nuts!) and pink.  Lots and lots of pink.  This man was wearing blue jeans and a khaki polo shirt.  The only thing that told us he was one of our charges, was an unadorned black fanny pack.

He walked with a crowd of speedy walkers, but it was obvious he was alone.  He was one of them, but not quite.

On day two, as we led the walkers out, he was there at the lead of the pack again.  This time he was wearing blue jeans and a spruce green polo shirt.  He chatted with the walkers around him, but was alone.

On day three, I saw him eating breakfast alone at the end of a long table of tired, beat-up walkers.  I couldn't not know his story.  My sister and I asked to join him and would he please tell us why he was walking?  I was expecting a, "My wife/mother/sister passed away . . ." kind of story, but I got something else entirely.

This man walked 60 miles to help end breast cancer because he, and, I quote, "thought it was the right thing to do."

He had no connection to the cause.  He'd lost no one to breast cancer or any other type of cancer.  He worked in an office most days.  He was desperately shy.  He heard about the walk and felt that he had something to contribute.  He fundraised the mandatory $2300.  He trained.  He was walking.  The entire bottom of his left foot was one enormous blister and he said it was hurting badly, but he'd make it.

I'm not a cryer.  I fell into a puddle as I listened to him talk in a sweet southern drawl.  My sister looked slightly mortified by my behavior.  I choked on a sob and laughed.  The man looked back down at his oatmeal, embarrassed.

Lewis Carroll once wrote, "One of the deep secrets in life is that all that is really worth the doing is what we do for others."  I don't think it was a coincidence that this man's name was Carroll.  Whoever blessed him with that name, knew that inside this quiet, shy, hard working man there was the will to do for others.

Yep, he's definitely another keeper.

Tell me about the keepers in your life.  I can't wait to hear all about them.