Twelve years ago, I took part in my first Race For Life: a fresh faced teenager who had little understanding of the effects of cancer on people's lives.

At the time, Race For Life was a fairly new concept - not the household name it has now become - and under-16s could not take part.

As I has just turned 16, I became a mini-celebrity for the day as the event's youngest participant. As I passed various check points and crossed the start and finish lines I could hear my name being called out by race announcers above the cheers of waiting husbands, partners, siblings and children.

Being a not-entirely shy character, this was my major memory of the day.

Now that I'm older and wiser, I look back on the day and remember the constant chatter of hundreds of women gathered on a warm and bright Sunday morning, sharing the sunshine and a chance to gossip.

But it was not all smiles, and there were even a few tears. as women shared their stories of loved ones who had been killed by cancer.

My mum could not to any extent be described as a fitness fanatic, yet she regularly takes part in Race For Life events, and each time she has made a few new friends and shared in their reminiscences.

On the occasions when I have joined the masses since, I get a sense of awe, pride and sisterhood which I've never come across anywhere else.

Being older, I now have more of an understanding of the impact of cancer. My own gran was diagnosed six years ago, and thankfully has been given the all clear now, but it means I have the honour of taking part in celebration of her.

That honour is nothing compared with those who race in memory of someone they have loved and lost.

That's what the Race For Life is all about, and I like to think I'm doing my little bit towards the day when everyone is racing in celebration of someone, and that terminal cancer has been beaten.

How special would that day be?

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