On Sunday, I ran the 26.2 miles of the New York City Marathon completely topless to raise awareness for breast cancer and show people what survival really looks like. Despite all the training, the experience still surprised me. My quads cramped at mile 16.
The wind chapped my chest. I thought of my husband Elio, who was running beside me, and whether he was okay. I thought about how grateful I was to run with him and to have a family and support system waiting for me at the finish line and throughout the course.
I thought about what a privilege it is to wake up and move my body. And I thought, repeatedly, about not stopping. Before my run, I wrote that I wanted to do this so I could inspire other women to advocate for themselves and feel okay in their bodies.
I ran with a QR code temporarily tattooed on my back that led to a free Tyrer-Cuzick breast cancer risk assessment in hopes that the attention could highlight one of the tools to help women understand their risk. When I finally crossed the finish line, my heart was so full. We had raised over $50,000 for cancer research, helping the very hospital where I had received my own treatment just one year prior.
What I was not thinking about was the fact that I was topless. That was the strangest part. Some people have wondered how I ran without a sports bra.
The answer is that because my surgeries had severed the nerves in my chest, I didn’t feel anything. By the time I was at the starting line with the gun minutes away, that decision had already been made a year ago. All that was left was to run.
Extract — continue reading at the source.
