Relay For Life

I know this is supposed to be a humor blog, but I recently participated in something that I really felt like writing about: the American Cancer Society's Relay for Life, the University of Iowa version.

On April 24, my friends and I gathered with hundreds of UI students, community members, cancer survivors, caregivers, and, in a sense, loved ones last to cancer. It wasn't my idea to participate in Relay. It was my friend Carolyn's, and she did all the work to organize our team (Wally for a Cure, after our love for the sport wallyball). So lots of DAP to Carolyn for all her hard work. And lots of DAP for my teammates for raising their money, and to my donors for graciously and generously donating toward cancer research.

As the UI Rec Building filled with people, most of them college-aged, I sensed enthusiasm amongst the participants. Each team staked out an area in the middle of the track for their campsite. Some sites, like ours, were equipped with tents (which were used later in the night for a quick power nap or two).

The relayers gathered near the podium around 9 p.m. Though most of the crowd had been out of high school for at least a year, everyone took a seat on the floor, sitting cross-legged or leaning on one arm, like assembled for a pep rally. And nobody seemed to be complaining or rolling their eyes at how lame it was. The camaraderie that would be felt throughout the night was established early.

A cancer survivor took to the podium to share her story with her fellow relayers. I feel guilty for not remembering her name. But she was young, probably early 20s, vibrant in voice and in personality. And one of her legs was a prosthetic. It had been amputated because of cancer. She shared her story of living with cancer, and every eye was on her, and every relayer seemed captivated. She spoke with such strength, such wit, such determination, such vulnerability. As a journalist, I promise you, the best writer couldn't have told her story half as masterfully as she told it herself. Her speech was enough to inspire me and the other relayers for the rest of the relay. And most of those eyes that were on her were welled with tears when she finished her story.

For those who don't know what happens at Relay, like I didn't before this year, the premise is simple. From approximately 9:30 p.m. to 7 a.m., the relayers make their way around the track. Some run or jog. Some walk backward. Some go around as a team with a volleyball, bumping it from teammate to teammate (and occasionally to random relayer, who, of course, politely bumps it back). That was our team, actually. But the idea is to have at least one team member on the track at all times. Others can hang out or sleep at the campsite, or take part in the various games put on by relay organizers.

I completed my assigned hour to be on the track early, and before long, it was time to once again gather in front of the stage for a few more speeches prior to the luminaria. The lights in the building went down, and the luminary bags lining the track representing loved ones with cancer glowed with a subdued yet breathtaking hue.

A caregiver and a cancer survivor shared with the relayers this time. Two very different stories were shared. The caregiver told a heartbreaking story of her brother's battle with cancer, which took his life. She shared some of the most painful memories of her young life with the relayers, and ended the speech in tears. The other speaker, a UI student, began his speech with a joke about thinking his cancer was an STD, and kept his story light. And both were inspiring, moving, and appropriate.

The speakers gave way to the luminaria ceremony. After a prolonged moment of silence, the relayers took to the track for a few solemn laps paying tribute to loved ones lost to such a horrible disease. I thought about my Aunt Jan, whose life was taken by cancer in 2005, and I read most of the other illuminated tributes. The quiet contemplation was only broken by the musical group singing in the background and the occasional quiet sobs of relayers.

One might think it would be difficult to just pick up with the energy necessary to continue with Relay after the luminaria ceremony, but the effervescent and omnipresent camaraderie picked everyone up and lifted everyones spirits. My friend Sarah and I even took to the track for 12 laps of jogging. Given how horribly out of shape I was, I didn't think I'd be able to jog for long, but something made my feet light and my lungs flush with fresh oxygen.

As the night carried on, I was continuously impressed by the energetic spirit exemplified by the young relayers. Some slept, and certainly nobody can be blamed for doing so, but many kept walking, kept jogging, kept dancing, kept doing activities to raise money even though they had already raised their quota probably weeks earlier.

And people displayed acts of selflessness throughout the evening. Just being there was an act in itself. But a table set up for people to register as bone marrow donors for cancer patients buzzed with activity throughout the night. I'm embarrassed to admit it, but at first I recoiled at the thought of having a large needle extract marrow from my bones. But peer pressure of the finest quality encouraged me to sign up. My whole team registered, and I'm glad I followed.

Our team fulfilled its mission of having a relayer on the track at all times, and most of the time, we walked in pairs or threes or more. Overall, relay was a great experience for me for two main reasons. First, it was undeniably fun. Spending time with my friends, accomplishing the physical feat of walking countless laps around the track, playing games and eating much too many baked goods are all immensely enjoyable things.

But seeing so many 20-something (and younger, and older) individuals who are all too often pigeonholed as being selfish, uninspired and narcissistic coming together to raise money, awareness and remembrance was remarkable. You can say they only did it because their friends were doing it, or so they could feel good about themselves for one night. You can take that cynical point of view. And really, whatever reason each relayer chose to participate is reason enough, and doesn't require justification. But the sense of togetherness, charity and doing his or her part for the greater good was something I hadn't felt so strongly since being around all the amazing volunteers during the Flood of 2008.

I'm very glad to have been a part of it. And I have no regrets. Well, maybe one regret. I really should have taken part in the "speed dating" activity. But hopefully, there's always next year.