The first time I went on a 5k, I was surrounded by fighters and warriors, in the middle of Ithaca. The Cancer Walkathon, coordinated by the Cancer Resource Center of Ithaca, is an annual walkathon dedicated to people who have been affected by cancer. I was overcome with emotion watching the energy by the older population on the event. For many, this is one of their biggest events of the year because it is telling of how far they have come physically, emotionally, and mentally over the course of a year. The survivors all have different, yet similar stories that they can share with each other in order to connect with people who have shared the same experiences as them. I had an enjoyable time speaking to some runners that day and was truly inspired by their journey, and learning about how they stay motivated every day. Perhaps my favorite part of the morning was right before the walk began. There was one moment where I just stood and watched all the bustle around me, everyone helping themselves with some activity/food/etc, everyone genuinely looked so happy. I particularly enjoyed watching about 100 women dancing Zumba to Shakira and Rihanna at 6 AM, I should’ve joined them! This was an impactful experience for me because I’m eager to become more involved with the Cancer Resource Center in Ithaca.

Im so glad I attended this event, waking up se early to be in the midst of all the vibrant energy and transformative stories was an enlightening experience.

When I arrived at the walkathon I was surprised by how happy the mood was.  I had thought a walk for individuals with cancer might be sad and depressing.  I mean these people have cancer, how could the walk be a happy event.  But the mood seemed not to be centered around getting cancer, but instead focused on living a good life in spite of it.  With donations received through events like this walkathon, research has extended and bettered the lives of so many  people.  There is considerable reason to be happy with the progress scientists have made toward people living with cancer, but we must commit to doing more. Our generation must make it a priority to end cancer in our life time.  I was happy to be a part of the walkathon and seeing so many good people taking action to make a difference in the lives of total strangers.  Isn’t that what life is all about?  Helping others, not just because they are family or friends, but because they are fellow human beings.

When we first arrived at Cass Park, the crowd of people already gathered, stretching and preparing to run/walk in the 5K could not be missed. Hundreds of people from all walks of life were in attendance: parents pushing children in strollers while holding the leashes of dogs; families holding signs voicing their support for participants; families young and old, wearing color coordinated shirts and more, united as a community to show their support for those who have fought, or are currently fighting cancer.

Prior to the walkathon, we had the opportunity to meet and talk with Jason, a cancer survivor himself. What Jason said about the stigmas of cancer and the consequence it has on patients and families alike is something I had never thought of before. Cancer is often stigmatized, sometimes to the extent that many patients and families are isolated and feel that there is not one they can talk to or approach. 

However, the Cancer Resource Center is working to provide a network of people and support groups where patients can voice their concerns, receive help, and meet people who are going through, or have gone through the same experience that they are currently going through. 

The community that the CRC has created is even more evident as we walked along the path: cheerleaders, singers, acapella groups, performers and more were all present, providing encouragement to the runners and walkers as we passed.   

I am glad I had the opportunity to participate in the walkathon hosted by the CRC. To see the community come together to support a common cause was heart-warming and this was truly an amazing, unforgettable experience. 

What does it mean to support another as they experience an event which is for us without referent? What does it mean to bear witness to affects which are irreducible to any signifiable or representable system? What sort of responsibility comes with this fidelity to the other? 

These fundamental questions about our relation to others pronounce that we are always already concerned about the conditions of possibility for the survival of the other. This possibility of care is the very possibility that grounds us in the world, that in being produced by others allows us to produce ourselves. Addressing the other is a matter governed, above all else, by material fragility and temporal finitude. In other words, our relation to others is marked by the threat of losing them in their absolute singularity. Every relation pronounces the possibility of a mourning to come. While this is an ostensibly melancholy notion, it is a profoundly freeing notion precisely because in recognizing the possibility of the loss of the other, we are able to more fully embrace the being of the other- to recognize the love which marks our relation to the other, to recognize the part of them within ourselves.  

Inhaling the blustery October air, the ochre leaves trailing my every step, I was inundated by fragmented visions of memory: the desolate halls, the infinite expanse of white, the oscillating green of the monitor that I had convinced myself would be endless, and, most of all, the pallid face of my grandfather whose gaze breathed out in blank exhaustion. In these scenes of ineffable pain, I witness myself as the witness. I am not myself nor am I any other- I watch as though on a spectral plane, feeling just as powerless as I had been then having to say goodbye. Sighing at the threat of tears, I gazed at the vast expanse of people around me. I wasn’t alone. I was surrounded by survivors and witnesses, by strength and hope, by remembrance and celebration. Suddenly, I began to remember who my grandfather was and not the diagnosis which would ultimately take his life- his kindness, his warmth, his dedication to others, his knowledge, and the measureless importance he had and continues to have in my life along with the realization that I will always carry his memory with me- he will always be here. Having the opportunity to participate in this gathering, to speak with survivors, to support those who are fighting cancer as well as those who are still experiencing the effects of cancer in their everyday lives was unspeakably important for me. There is nothing more extraordinary than the infinite love and care that one community can contain. 

When I was in my sophomore year of high school, my mom was diagnosed with breast cancer. Although thankfully it was only stage one, I know that the diagnosis and subsequent treatments affected her in a large way. I know that it still affects her to this day. I think what I didn’t realize until after coming to the Walkathon is how much cancer can affect not only an individual but every single person who cares about the individual who has cancer. At the Walkathon, I noticed that there were at least five people accompanying each cancer survivor. It shocked me to see how many people are actually affected by cancer in their lives.

On the other hand, participating in the Walkathon also allowed me to see how people manage to bounce back from this kind of event, and celebrate their victories together. I was really surprised by how happy everyone was and friendly they were. People were dancing, eating pancakes together, and they were laughing. It makes me want to take my mom to one of these walkathons and to see her own reaction. The last walkathon I participated in was for Autism speaks when I was much younger. I’m thankful that I had the opportunity to participate in a walkathon that is a little closer to home. Especially because it’s prelim season, this event was a good break from studying and a good refresher on what’s outside of Cornell’s doors.

In high school, I volunteered at a similar walk but for Alzheimer’s. Coming to the Cancer Resource Center Walkathon as a participant, rather than a volunteer gave me a whole new experience. Rather than organizing boxes and materials, I was able to fully interact with the people there. Not only were they cancer survivors or cancer patients, but they were friends and families that were indirectly affected by cancer. Being surrounded by those at the walkathon and hearing the encouragement from other walkers and bystanders made me realize how wholesome and supportive the community is. On top of that, I was able to understand the importance of support groups and the comfort they provide to those who are having a hard time talking about cancer in general. I’m really glad that I was able to be part of the experience.

Each year, my family and I would do the walk to cure ALS in honor of my late grandmother who was affected by ALS. I would always look forward to the walk because it was a time to reconnect with cousins and to keep the memory of my grandmother alive. In recent years, I haven’t been able to do this since I am far away from home, so when I read about the Cancer Resource Center Walkathon I knew that it was something that I wanted to do.

The CRC Walkathon, this weekend, was a meaningful way for me to continue this tradition, as well as to honor my grandfather who was recently diagnosed with cancer. It’s been hard for me to watch him go through cancer and know that there’s nothing that I could do. However, seeing all of the survivors and cancer patients at the walk cheering for the participants or even walking made me feel inspired and gave me hope. Despite going through so much, everyone took time out of their busy lives to support others. After speaking to people at the walk, I see what an incredible community the CRC has built for patients, survivors, and caretakers.

Overall, the CRC Walkathon was an enlightening experience for me. I got to continue a family tradition and see how amazing it is when a community rallies around a cause.

In modern day society, I feel that the subject of cancer is slightly taboo. While it has made strides in public awareness, the subject itself, at times, can be very closed-off. People don’t enjoy talking about this awful painful disease. Death is scary, and death by cancer is even more scary. But this past Saturday, that didn’t seem the case at all. Rather than avoiding cancer, a whole community gathered together in support for those who have the disease and their loved ones. Nothing about cancer was taboo. There was Zumba and musical performances and clowns and pancakes and photo booths and hundreds of people. It was a time of providing support for those who need it, and supporting a foundation that facilitates care for victims of cancer and their families.

I am so fortunate that I was able to witness such an event. Seeing a whole community rally together was amazing, especially for something that can be uncomfortable to talk about. It was incredible and I wish that everyone who was/is affected by cancer could have a similar organization and community of support.

My grandfather died from cancer and I watched it first ruin his body and then his mind. From a fit, healthy man he turned into a skeletal version of himself. He was thin, pale, and had dark bags under his eyes. This transformation occured in only a few months. His once positive disposition turned into a cynical one. He refused to leave the house other than for medical trips. We didn’t want to aggregate him anymore than he was so we left it be.

I didn’t realize until today how wonderful a network of support from other cancer patients can be. The walkathon opened my eyes to support groups not only for cancer patients but also to surivors and caretakers. It’s a little bittersweet to see how such a treacherous disease can do unexpected good in bringing people together.

People who have never met each other before were able to congregate for a common cause. We walked as one to show our support for the brave people who fought and are fighting the awful disease. I wish that we were able to go back in time and take my grandfather to the support groups. It might have lifted up his spirits to know people who were going through the same thing he was. It’s great to spread awareness about the importance of support networks available to people so they can share experiences, advice, and make friends.

I’m not exactly sure what I expected out of the Cancer Resource Center Walkathon. Despite the heaviness of the issue that the CRC deals with, I didn’t think it would be a somber event. Still, I was surprised by just how vibrant it was.

The walkathon took place at Cass Park, a beautiful venue with a lake right alongside it. There were clowns in bright colors, people holding up paper mustaches at the photo booth, and children running around with face paint. Right in the center of the tents and booths, a woman gave a group of participants a lesson in Zumba. Dogs milled about on their leashes, noses in the air to catch the scent of pancakes, and I saw one cat cruising around in a stroller. The course for the runners and walkers was lined with live musicians, DJs, the Cornell gymnastics team, and even a Tai Chi class.

I was also surprised by the sheer number of people. Dozens of bands and organizations turned out for the event. From my place in the middle of the line of walkers, I could never see the front as it curved through the paths of Cass Park. Community members, caretakers, survivors, and patients in hospice all came out to support the CRC and stand together. I’ve never considered Ithaca a particularly large community, but clearly it can pull together for a good cause.

I’ve heard people say that the best fundraisers are the ones that are reminiscent of the character of their organization. The CRC Walkathon did just that. House Fellow Jason Hungerford, a member of the CRC’s Board of Directors and a survivor himself, told us a bit about the CRC before the walk. He said that the CRC is meant to provide support to patients, families, and caretakers so they don’t feel alone. The walk wasn’t meant to be a quiet event, or one reminiscent of the sadness and struggle that comes with cancer. It was full of buttons with blunt slogans like “Cancer sucks,” jazz music, and an entire community. It was an amazingly bright and fun show of solidarity. It’s an event and an organization that I wish was available for everyone whose lives have been touched by cancer.