Help Lauren raise money

Sometime in summer 2004, my grandparents took me on a trip up the mountains. I remember the ride well, because I was blaring the Beastie Boys' new To the 5 Boroughs on my Walkman to drown out an endless shuffle of Shania Twain and Celine Dion cassettes during the 3-hour drive. Poppop had read about some hanging rock in one of those trifold pamphlets that litter rest stop parking lots, and he was set on seeing this natural wonder of central Pennsylvania. On one of our many state park drives, we left Mommom in the Chevy Blazer in a roadside parking lot, and Poppop and I set up a mountainside on a search for this rock.

We traversed over fallen branches and heard the snaps of splintered twigs beneath our shoes. We commented on mossy growths in between our huffs and puffs. We even scrambled a bit over rocky terrain, a muggy August sun beating down through the forest canopy. I posited that hearing "That Don't Impress Me Much" for the umpteenth time would be worth the lure of a frosty A/C.

It seemed like an entire afternoon of only uphill hiking before I asked Poppop if we made a wrong turn. I was returned with a characteristic shrug, "yah." So, we began our trek back down with the sun, rocks, huffs, puffs, and twigs. Turns out, we missed the trailhead, and Balanced Rock is maybe a tenth of a mile from the parking lot. At least I have a funny story to come back to, I guess. 

In 2023, I wanted to use that same perseverance developed while looking for Balanced Rock with Poppop and signed up for my first half marathon. Life had other plans, and instead of crossing the finish line on November 18, I said goodbye to Poppop. I'm lucky I had a grandparent like him, and I'm bitter that melanoma is what took him. In the days after his death, I often thought about the time we hiked and if our lack of sun safety played a part in "his demise" (if you know, you know).

But melanoma doesn't care about sunscreen use or how healthy he was otherwise. It simply did what it, and many other cancers, does best–claimed another beloved from many lives.

For my 2024 entry into the Philadelphia Half Marathon, I'd like to raise $250+ for the American Association for Cancer Research. Running this race is deeply emotional for me, because it will be a reminder of how I no longer can expect a Sunday evening call about 60 Minutes or have freshly pulled carrots from the garden waiting for me. Instead, I'd love to channel this emotion into support for a Philadelphia-based nonprofit working to stop cancer from taking someone else's Balanced Rock hiking buddy.

Thank you for your support, and see you on the Parkway!