“You did it,” Sonia yelled as I crossed the finish line.
I could barely talk as I looked at her. She held onto me as she led me over to a bench, where I promptly sat down to catch my breath.
“Congratulations,” a man said as he placed a ribbon over my head.
“Well, you said you would run this time,” Sonia smiled at me.
“Yes,” I said, waving at each of the ladies that crossed the line. “I did.”
I did it. I ran for the cure. Last year I walked, and the year before that, I didn’t finish. This year I ran and finished.
“Thank you,” a lady said from behind me.
I turned to look at her. Quickly I stood up, and we embraced. There was a bond between survivors, an unsaid, unbreakable bond.
“Never stop,” she smiled at me.
“Never,” I responded. The lady disappeared into the crowd. “Let’s go,” I said to Sonia, who smiled and walked with me to her car.
It had been five years since the monster had invaded my body. I had fought it every day, and finally, after months of medication, visits, and losing my hair as well as my husband. It took my breasts.