CANCER SUCKS.

For everyone. No one is immune and while some of us may be luckier than others, we all have loved and lost as a result of the ultimate c word.

My why has always been and will always be my Nana, Lillian “Pat” Mountain, who we lost on October 8, 2013. She hung on for nearly three months after my wedding and hers and my Bups’ 60th wedding anniversary. 

Nana was an integral part of my childhood, the creator of the majority of my fondest memories, and my best friend into adulthood. A passionate teacher, she loved to educate me on arithmetic which I attribute my career to. She drove my love for Junie B. Jones and helped me make a silly wig from a shower cap and yarn when my assigned letter was “H.” There was always a bowl of cherries on the table during the summer. My brother and I spent our summers at camp with her and Bups and took memorable trips to Hershey Park, Six Flags, Washington DC and Bush Gardens where TJ and I would fight for hours in the car. We played the license plate game and competed in who could keep their mentos in their mouth the longest, stopping at Cracker Barrel as soon as we were far enough south. We watched Wheel of Fortune and Jeopardy every night, with phases of Matlock, Murder She Wrote, Everybody Loves Raymond and other sitcoms. We went skiing and Nana would pack our lunches and wait for us in the lodge, watching from the windows. Trips to the movies where Nana and I would see a different movie than Bups and TJ if we weren’t into the same thing. School shopping where I’d check price tags and move on and she’d have Bups follow behind to get me the things I wouldn’t ask for. She loved holidays and spent hours of her life picking out the right card for every occasion— something I can’t do without feeling a wave of sadness. Family was the essence of her being. I called her every time I was in my car. I visited her for 20 years during their winters in Florida, usually for our birthday which we often spent at Olive Garden until they stopped singing to us. Numerous Universal, Disney, Sea World and Bush Gardens experiences, along with trips to the Everglades and local beaches. She’s who I dreaded sharing my mistakes with (Nana being cross with me was my worst nightmare but happened a lot during my teen years) and the person I ran to with all of my accomplishments. 

Nana braved the storm of cancer not once, not twice, but three times before losing a 20 month battle with lung cancer. To this day, I keep her memory with me in everything I do, frequently gazing at the tattoo on my wrist of her handwriting to feel close to her again. I’m a lucky person and can acknowledge that not everyone is so fortunate to make it through 25 years with their grandparents, but I’ll always wish for more time. Each year I participate in the Tri, I start with a few tears in my eyes as I reflect on how much I miss her, and I finish with pride knowing that she’ll always be my biggest cheerleader— even if from the heavens above.

I am not an athlete. I admittedly hate all forms of cardio. I don’t compete in this triathlon, I participate to raise awareness and money for a cause that I believe in with every ounce of my being. I remain hopeful that I’ll live to see a day where the people I love have a greater chance of survival than of death when faced with cancer. Furthermore, I’m forever grateful for every ounce of support I receive each year from family, friends, colleagues and acquaintances.

Without people like you, there would be no motivation for people like me. Thank you. 💖