The Christmas lights flickered on outside my office window before the December gloom fully crept in. Inflatable snowmen and plastic reindeer dotted the front yards of the neat mill houses that abutted Bettel Occidental Commodities’ parking lot. The house at the end of the street was the one exception. In the morning, an old man and his wife had fit a collection of long and short pipes into holes in the ground until the yard looked like a battered comb. At lunchtime, they sat on the front steps while their grandson pounded tent stakes all over the lawn then, at some point in the afternoon, stretched strings of lights between the tent stakes and pipes. What looked like a tangle of pipes and wires during the day transformed into a twinkling forest of Christmas trees in the dark.
I stood at my office window with a mug of spearmint tea and let out a contented sigh. It had turned out to be a good day. Frank Mariano had stopped by to say he was pleased with my preliminary report on zinc futures. He seemed impressed by how well I was doing overall. In the new year, Frank planned to have me supervise two interns from the local business school. He hinted that if the interns worked out, he planned to reassign a few of Letitia’s people to me. I was tempted to tell Frank that I didn’t want to be responsible to, or for, anyone, but I understood he was offering me the interns because he had faith in me. I needed to live up to that faith. Instead, I’d smiled the way Vanessa taught me and thanked him for the help.
Pradeep from IT popped his head in my door. “Are you looking at that house with the pipe trees?”
“Yeah, the old guy had the kid working all afternoon.”
“I was watching him earlier. I can’t get my kids to do anything, never mind banging stakes in the ground. I’m sorry for disturbing you. I thought you accidentally left your lights on.”
“Are you going home? What time is it?”
“Almost 6:30. I’ve got to get home to help my kid with a project.” I thought that sounded like fun. I loved school projects as a kid. “How’s the new office working out?”
“So far, so good.”
“Well,” he said with a shy smile, “it’s good to have you on the floor. See you in the morning.”
I waved goodnight to Pradeep. The IT people had all made me feel welcome. I liked how they all chipped in to keep their little break room clean and well stocked with tea.
I went over to my desk and disconnected my laptop from the network. It was the first day in weeks that I was still feeling good at the end of the day. The radiation fatigue was finally lifting. I had been itching to get back to the gym, and since I felt pretty good, decided to give it a try.
***
I walked into the Y lobby and heard someone shout my name. Liam was standing on a ladder updating the bulletin boards inside the large trophy case. “Long time, no see. You been traveling for work lately?”
“I’ve been kind of sick. It’s taking me a really long time to bounce back,” I said, hiking my gym bag up on my shoulder. “I thought I’d try to ease my way back in tonight.”
“Cool,” Liam said. “There’s a guy using the Schlein bike right now but he shouldn’t be long. He’s just starting to get in shape for this race.” He climbed down the ladder and pulled a flyer off the bulletin board. “Hey, you would be perfect for this Women’s Cancer Run!”
My head started to tingle and my tongue became a dry sponge. I dropped my bag to steady myself on the wall. Liam jumped down from the trophy case and ran over to me and put his arm around me. “Oh my gosh, are you okay? Here, sit down a sec.” He pulled the stool out from behind the reception desk and made me sit down. “Are you okay?”
“How?” My voice sounded shaky. “How could you tell?”
Liam’s head jerked back in confusion. Then, he blushed to the roots of his floppy red hair. “Shit! I am so sorry. I didn’t know. I mean, how could I?”
“But you said I—” I cleared my throat. “You said I would be perfect for a Women’s Cancer Run.”
Liam moved in front of me to block a group of middle-aged men coming off the basketball courts from eavesdropping on our conversation. “Yeah, because you’re in fabulous shape. And a girl. That’s all I meant. I had no idea you—”
“Have cancer?”
“Well, yeah.”
Liam’s obvious discomfort helped me calm down a bit. It was funny how embarrassed he was. “You can say the word, you know. Cancer. It won’t hurt you. Cancer. Cancer. Cancer, cancer, cancer!”
“I know.” Liam’s shoulders relaxed. He stepped away and picked up my gym bag. “My Aunt Dee had ovarian cancer when I was a little kid. My cousin and I organize the race every year. The swimming part is murder for some people, but it’s always a good day.” Liam handed me my bag. “So, how are you feeling?”
“Okay. Not a hundred percent yet. But better.”
Liam jumped up on the counter and swung his gangly legs over the edge. “You really would be a good addition to the team, you know. We could use some younger women. Can you swim?”
I picked up one of the brochures from where they had fallen to the floor. “I had to pass a swim safety class in college. I can do a decent crawl.”
“They call it freestyle now,” Liam said. “The leader of the team is the swim coach here. I’m sure she’d give you a hand.”
I stood up and picked up my bag. “Do you really think I could compete in a triathlon?”
“If you can run or swim half as well as you attack that bike in there, I’m sure you’d do fine.”
“Excuse me? Was that a compliment?”
Liam blushed again and straightened his shirt. “You’ll need to get a road bike. The Schlein TdF99 is great, but it’s not anything like training on real roads.” Liam fished through the top drawer of the desk and handed me a business card. “Evan at Cosmic Cycles has the best selection. They even have special seats to protect your—”
“Lady parts?” It was kind of fun to watch Liam squirm. I put the flyer and card in my bag and started toward the locker room. “I’m not saying I’ll sign up, Liam. But I promise I’ll think about it.”
I did think about it. I thought about raising money to dispel the stigma of cancer while I changed into my workout clothes. I thought about helping other women with gynecological cancers while I peddled the stationary bike at a leisurely pace. I thought about actively doing something to help other women. It felt good.
Before I could talk myself out if it, I called Vanessa as I drove to Lucky Lee’s. “Lara!” Vanessa shouted through the phone. Voices and music blared in the background. I suspected she was in a bar.
“I’m thinking of signing up to do a charity run with some people at my gym!” I shouted back. “You want to do it with me?”
“You’re asking me to run in a race?”
“Well, yeah.”
Vanessa removed the phone from her ear and laughed. I heard her telling someone that her friend wants her to run a marathon. When she brought the phone back to her mouth, she said, “On one condition. We get matching running outfits.”
***
The next evening, Vanessa and I battled the Christmas crowds in the sporting goods store. Vanessa tried on some form fitting running tights with Day-Glo orange stripes down the sides and a matching bright orange lycra top. She looked like an oriole with hair. I suggested we also get plain black warm-up jackets to wear over the lycra and tone down the orange. When we got to the swimsuit department, Vanessa held up a skimpy pink and yellow suit with Hawaiian flowers all over it. “This one’s cute,” she cooed.
“No way.” I put the flimsy suit back on the rack. “I’m nervous enough about putting on a bathing suit without you making me look like a lei exploded in my face.”
Vanessa flipped through the rack of suits. “But these are all so boring,” Vanessa pouted.
“We’ll be doing laps, not laying on a beach. I think we’re supposed to think about durability and compression, not aesthetics.”
Vanessa held up a yellow suit with a purple stripe. “I want to look good in my suit.”
“You do know how to swim, don’t you?”
Vanessa considered a tie-dyed racing bikini then put it back. “Do you think we’ll have to get our hair wet?”
“Oh my God,” I groaned. “This is going to be a disaster. What are we doing?”
Vanessa picked up another suit, black with hot pink trim. “Don’t worry, Lara. I was just pulling your leg. I won’t embarrass you. I swam in high school. I’m not very fast but I can get down the pool. Did your high school have a swim team?”
“We didn’t have a town pool. We had a lake.” I turned around to face another rack and recalled watching the popular kids walk past the library with their beach towels and coolers on their way to Lake Winnewipple. They spent hours sunning themselves on the floating platforms moored several hundred yards out in the water. I used to hope their toes would be bitten off by snapping turtles.
“What do you think,” Vanessa asked, “should I go for shiny black?”
I shook the memory of Hawthorne out of my head like rank water. “Yes, but in a larger size. Your boobs would pop right out of that suit.”
***
Vanessa and I changed into our matching outfits in the Y locker room before joining the growing crowd of spandex clad women milling in the lobby. “Why did I ever agree to do this with you, Lara? I can’t run,” Vanessa whined. “I’m going to make a fool of myself.”
“No you won’t,” I replied. “Look at these women. They’re all old and flabby. Someone’s bound to be slower than you.”
“Gee, Lara. Way to make a girl feel good about herself.” Vanessa walked up to a lumpy grandma-type and introduced herself. Within five minutes, she knew everyone’s name and something about each of them. I stuck to her side like a barnacle and smiled insincerely until Liam clapped his hands to get everyone’s attention. Beside him stood a trim woman with close cropped grey hair and keen blue eyes.
“Okay ladies, let’s get started. I’m Elkie Templeton. Welcome to our team. We are jointly sponsored by the Y and the Cancer Center at Ellery Hospital. This is my sixth year leading the team and my twelfth year of survivorship.” The women reflexively clapped for her still being alive. “For those of you who are new to the team, which many of you are, we start our practices on time and end on time. Tonight, we will be going for a short conditioning run and then we will give out the training schedule leading up to the race in late March. We won’t be collecting the registration forms until after the first of the year, so you still have time to back out.” Several women giggled nervously. “After we collect the registrations, we expect you to train together over the next fourteen weeks to compete in the race. We’ll start in the pool next week and add the bikes in January.” The women nodded dumbly as they herded themselves out to the parking lot.
“All right,” Elkie said once everyone was outside. “We’ll do an easy run down to the phone company parking lot and back. If you have any questions, flag me down. Bridget, could you lead us out?” A woman in teal running tights took off. The others followed. “Now take it easy tonight. We are still getting our legs under us.”
I took off to catch up with the leader. Vanessa lagged behind and was gasping for air within five hundred yards. She stopped and hung her head between her knees. I doubled back and ran in circles around her. “Come on, Vanessa. They’re going around the bend. We’ve got to catch up.”
Elkie and another woman ran up beside us and stopped. She patted Vanessa on the back and handed her a water bottle from the pouch at the back of her running top. “Catch your breath for a minute,” she said. “There’s no need to sprint. When you’re ready, Celeste here will keep you company. You two go as far as you feel comfortable, then walk back.”
Elkie stood up and glared at me. Crap. Now the coach is pissed that I stopped. It’s not my fault Vanessa is slow. “And you. What’s your name?”
“Lara.” I jogged in place beside Vanessa.
Elkie appraised me as if I were a filly in a paddock. “You’ll run with me tonight.” She took off down the pavement like a startled deer. Once I recognized the challenge, I left Vanessa behind. When I caught up, Elkie said, “Oh, there you are? What took you so long?” I couldn’t respond. My lungs burned. Elkie was setting an ambitious pace. “I applaud you for joining the team to support your friend’s recovery but we don’t normally suggest you run the patient ragged the first night out.”
“She’s not sick.” I panted.
“Really? I could have sworn that was a wig. Are you doing this as a memorial?”
“No, I finished radiation a few weeks ago.”
Elkie swerved to watch me run beside her for a moment. “You are the survivor?”
I nodded, momentarily unable to speak. I didn’t accept the label of cancer survivor. It felt like a hand-me-down coat.
Elkie upped the pace. Her legs were a tangle of sinew as she pulled ahead of me. My shins burned and my thighs screamed for me to stop, but I wasn’t about to be bested by a woman in her sixties. We rounded the electric company lot, flying past the women who were walking. When we were in sight of the Y again, Elkie kicked it up yet another notch. My lungs burned but I managed to keep up. Elkie was grinning wildly and yelling, “Come on! Come on!” the last few yards. She touched the door two paces ahead of me. We both collapsed on the grassy area in front of the door, gasping for breath. When she recovered, Elkie said, “I think you’ll be a fine addition to the team.”
Vanessa and I went back the next night and every other night that week. Vanessa continued to run with Celeste, a fifty-seven year old uterine cancer survivor, and I tried to keep up with Elkie. Training on pavement was different than running on a treadmill. The surfaces were uneven and there were obstacles like cars and gutters to avoid. Elkie lectured me on learning to set a pace and envisioning a whole race, as opposed to just running headlong until I couldn’t go any further.
The camaraderie was amazing. I was surprised when one of the women asked the group’s opinion about whether or not she should continue in her unsatisfying, but stable, teaching position or open the jewelry boutique she dreamed of. She repeatedly said her diagnosis and treatment for uterine cancer was motivating her to stop thinking about what she might do someday in the future and do what made her happy today. I admired how she was able to embrace the immediacy of life. I had read the survival statistics for uterine cancer; they were bleak.
By the end of the week, I had settled into a new routine. I enjoyed training with the team then reviewing the day with Vanessa over dinner at Lucky Lee’s far more than I had ever enjoyed going to the gym by myself. The radiation fatigue kept me from performing at full-strength, yet it felt good to work my muscles again. I fell into bed physically tired and mentally relaxed. Vanessa, on the other hand, was still questioning the wisdom of joining the team. She had a nice figure, curvy in all the appropriate places, but she was not in very good shape. That first week of short training runs left her sore and frustrated.
When the team started training for the swimming portion of the race, Vanessa hit her stride. She looked like an alien with her massive hair tucked into a pink silicone cap, but she swam with the fluid grace of a dolphin. I appreciated her good cheer that first morning in the pool when I didn’t want people looking at me in a swimsuit. “Get over yourself, Lara. It’s 5:00 a.m. No one cares what you look like.” She literally pushed me out the locker room door onto the pool deck. Even though I was half-naked, no one looked at my body. Everyone was focused on his or her own swimming. By the third morning, I was able to walk by the male lifeguard without feeling self-conscious.
Running was relatively easy where training in the pool was a challenge. Luckily, Elkie was a patient taskmaster. I mastered the freestyle and could swim four lengths of the pool by the end of the first week. Some of the other techniques came more slowly and required more help. Celeste took time away from her own workout to help me learn how to do a flip turn and Maureen, a forty-five year old mother of four and a ten-year breast cancer survivor, talked me through my unreasonable fear of diving off the blocks.
At the end of the third week, the roster was settled. Elkie gathered the group together to officially name that year’s team. The tradition was to use the name of the woman with the most recent diagnosis in the team name. They had been Estrella’s Stars and Elkie’s Bounders in past years. “This year,” Elkie said with a crooked smile, “we will be Lara’s Ladies.” I protested but was outvoted. I had the most recent diagnosis and, as Elkie put it, I was going to “kick some University Hospital ass.”