I heart you.

Photo by Bethann Wilkie
Survivor Circle at Closing Ceremonies
Washington, D.C, 2010

My husband likes to point out that when it comes to the Susan G. Komen 3-Day for the Cure, I'm "kind of funny about it."  He can't explain more.  Just one of those things that you know about a person even if you can't say how you know.

It's taken him three years to come to terms with my funny business.  Now when anything 3-Day comes up, he steps back with this sweet half-smile and just listens.  He doesn't try to stop me from ranting or whining or crying or laughing or telling him endless stories about people he hardly knows.  He just accepts the 3-Day as part of my life, like a crazy aunt everyone loves because they're never sure what she's going to do next. Which is big of him because I already have five crazy aunts.  Very generous of him to accept one more.

He's a 3-Day hubby.  And while my sister may be my very visible 3-Day partner in crime, my hubby drives the get-away car.

Today, I'd like to thank all the 3-Day partners in crime.  The one's that have done this before and the one's who have no idea what they've gotten into.

The one's like my husband who welcome 3-Day craziness into their lives.

The one's who say, "Sure I'll take care of the kids for the weekend."  Then they learn about the fundraising time and training time and travel time and, "Holy Cow!  Does our son really not understand how to pee in the toilet!  Seriously, do I have to clean up after every missed attempt or just before you get home?"

The one's who walk alongside their loved ones.

Washington, D.C., 2009
Closing Ceremonies

The one's who wear tutus.

A tired Route Safety member rocking a man-tu arrives at camp
at the end of  a long day taking care of walkers on the route.
Washington, D.C., 2009

The one's that come out to work the volunteer crew and support their wives and other peoples wives and daughters and mothers and sisters and partners and husbands and brothers and on and on.

Crewman Pete
He hauls baggage all morning then makes sure all our team
tents are set up before we arrive.
Angel in a tutu?  Yes.

The one's that bring the kids for closing ceremonies and stand with the little one on their shoulders hoping for a glimpse of mommy as she walks those last excruciating steps.

My hubby ended up with all the kids on the train to DC in 2009.
Looks like he has it all under control!

The one's that make signs that say, Thank You for Walking for Our Mommy, and dress their little boys in matching pink polo shirts.

Father and sons wait for Mommy
Boston, 2009

The one's that sit on the top of their RV's along the route and salute walkers with beers raised on high.  And the one's that hold signs up that make us laugh when we think we'd like to cry.

Washington, D.C., 2009

The one's that but bras on their wickedly intimidating motorcycles and attach pink tassels to the handlebars.

Photo by Jill Clardy
San Diego, 2009
www.flickr.com/photos/jillclardy

The one's that stand in a circle and watch as their heroes, the loves of their lives, take center stage and raise a flag that speaks of a world without cancer.  Those same one's who watch with open pride and love and tears that run like rivers down their faces because they are here, today.  Today they have won.

Closing at the Lincoln Memorial
Washington, D.C., 2009

I thank you all.  You and so many others.  Know that your loved ones are making a change in the world.  And you are a huge part of that world.  Smile and join the journey and know that because of your labors of love, there may be hope for a future in which you own daughter's husband will not need to stand amongst a crowd, rubbed raw with emotion, and weep.  And on that day, we will all know that we have won.