At about 4:45 p.m. on Saturday, the stream of people drifting onto the turf field outside the Student Recreation Center started to pick up speed. People rolled out tarps and put up canopies, decorating their makeshift campsites with balloons, signs and even a volleyball net held up by two cement lions. I use the word “campsite” loosely, because no one was supposed to be sleeping, even though a few would give in as the night wore on. Many would not, though; some walked more than 50 miles, or for 15 straight hours, because of one thing: cancer.
The University’s fourth annual Relay for Life was perhaps more inspiring because of the rain. Participants labored to set up their bases for the evening in the middle of one of those long drizzles that soaks everything slowly and thoroughly. Fortunately, the rain stopped after about 6 p.m. and didn’t start again for the duration of the 15-hour event. Students, their families and community members all walked around the field together, some laughing and talking, others silently chipping away at the long evening ahead. And the evening was long, sliding unceremoniously into the next morning as people continued walking.
If you’ve participated in a Relay for Life event before, either here or elsewhere, this scene is likely not unfamiliar to you. Throughout the evening, people play games, throw around Frisbees and footballs, and enjoy the intangible camaraderie that an overnight party generates. Around the track, participants ran fundraising booths, from cotton candy stands to tie-dying to a root beer pong table. Teams were from all over campus: fraternity and sorority life, residence halls, student groups (academic and social), and random assortments of friends all participated.
It was easy to forget for a while why everyone was there. The humdrum of walking in circles and the distractions available in such a large group of people were numerous. Around 1:30 a.m., though, people started to remember. Members of campus’s Relay for Life committee lined the track with little white lunch sacks. Inside of each was some sand to weight the bags down, and nestled in the sand was a small votive candle. Individually, they seem insubstantial. On each one, however, were a few words, a drawing, or both. One said, “Quit smoking!”; another, “Keep fighting!” Many offered similar encouragement to those currently living with cancer. Many more were dedicated to a loved one who lost their battle with cancer, some decorated with pictures, some saying simply and powerfully, “I miss you, Mom.”
I can’t describe what it looks like, to see a ring of little glowing memorials a third of a mile long. Similarly, I can’t put to words how it feels to move in a group of hundreds around the circle, silently reflecting on battles lost, battles won, and battles still being waged. The vitality of the participants and the soft, flickering reminders of our fragility create a friction that crackles.
Personally, I have always had mixed feelings about Relay for Life. Like many participants, I have lost several loved ones to cancer, and I am ever cognizant of the likelihood that I will lose more. I am also cognizant of how fortunate I am to only have cancer to worry about. In the United States, no one I know dies from malnutrition. In Oregon, no one gets river blindness at 18 years old. Here in Eugene, children do not die from measles because we have been vaccinated against them.
As I walked around looking at all of the glowing names and faces, I was struck by how many people rally around cancer treatment as a cause. Organizations like the American Cancer Society do a phenomenal job organizing and fundraising at events like Relay for Life because virtually everyone knows someone who has cancer. It’s a wonderful way to encourage activism, and if you have ever thought about doing a Relay, I encourage it. It is a unique experience.
Looking out at the vast ring of light on the turf fields Saturday night, I can’t help but wonder at how significantly cancer impacts peoples’ lives. Then, I can’t help but think that maybe, if we all knew even one of the children who die from polio or from measles, maybe they would be eradicated everywhere, and not just in the U.S.@@I really don’t like that conclusion. It doesn’t really tie into the whole “mixed feelings” deal.@@