She's Only 17.

After a late night sipping champagne on the beach with some girls that I truly adore(typing that I realize I am an old lady because I was in bed by 12:30), I woke up early, downed a couple mugs of coffee and a steaming bowl of oatmeal and jogged out into the suprisingly warm September morning.

Several minutes later, I could hear the music thumping as I approached the start line.

While crossing through the Thrifty's parking lot, I saw a group of four young teen girls, all wearing bandanas, crowded around the passenger door of a grey car.

As I got closer, my eyes welled with tears.

The fifth girl had only a scant covering of downy hair left on her head as she adjusted her bandana from her wheelchair.

I took a deep breath as I walked on to the registration table.

After filling out a form, I was handed a participant ribbon.

15 minutes until the gun. I pinned the ribbon with a silouette of Terry Fox to my hip and began stretching, trying desperately not to give into the tears that welled up again as I watched people pin dedications to the "In Memory" board.

There were a couple speeches, somewhat inspiring.

Then I caught some movement out of the corner of my eye: a wheelchair moving towards the front of the crowed followed by four others, all with matching bandanas.

Her name is Angie. She loves to sing. Less than a year ago (last December) she was diagnosed with the same kind of Cancer as Terry Fox. Last spring they amputated her leg.

I bit down hard on my tongue as the crowd gave a heartfelt clap... I stared at the crowd, some with forced smiles as if to offer sympathy, others looked extremely uncomfortable-their eyes begging to move on to something, anything, else. Others embarassingly wiped the tears from their eyes.

In any case, a strange feeling fell upon me. I felt as if time was slowed, and I knew that we as a crowd could not have been further away from Angie and her pain. As my eyes passed over my fellow runners- I knew that we would leave this moment no different than we were before "meeting" Angie.

And that bothered me.

As I settled into the race, my mind went back to Angie. While the main race organizer thanked the crowd before sending us off on the course, she spoke of the importance of the Terry Fox foundation, and how it had raised millions for cancer reasearch. She said that while we've come so far, there is still so much that needs to be done, so much that needs to be learned...

My eyes fell on Angie, her tired body heaved as she sobbed unto her hands.

As I neared the first water station, I could feel hot tears streaming down my face. Drinking was much more difficult with the huge lump in my throat.

It was inevitable, I would go home after the race, and in time, I would forget about Angie.

Seeing her body shake as she cried would stop haunting me, and I would fall back into my own little self absorbed world. My legs felt weak as the realization struck: I would feel sorry for myself for the insignificant.

Angie is fighting for her life, and I will go on as I always have.

My mind flooded with questions centering on when we'll be woken up, what would it take to snap us out of our egocentric tendencies beyond the end of the day?

We can have the best intentions, but are we capable of being changed unless it strikes us personally?

I pray for Angie... may she never lose the will to fight.