Step by step.

Around 2:30 a.m. at the Relay for Life event in Maryville, you could tell who was in it to win it, so to speak. Most of those who donated by way of nachos, a couple minutes in the bounce house or through the silent auction had gone home. Those left (and there were plenty) were either manning the booths, warming up the omlette griddles or walking round & round, lap after lap around the luminaries holding their team's baton, which could be virtually anything: a sparkly baton with streamers, an altered Barbie doll, a stick, a decorated plunger.

There were groups of people walking & laughing, power duos working up a sweat, lone walkers deep in contemplation. Among those circumnavigating were three walkers who slowly, steadily made their laps methodically and with monosyllabic conversation. Three men, each wearing hats to cover their heads rather than express fashion; two in bib overalls flanked the one in old Wranglers. Three men whose slightly bowed, ambling gait was the result of wearing work boot for decades; tonight they wore support sneakers. Three men who walked with a good yard, a manly distance, between themselves, but waiting for one another should one's pace outdistance the remaining. Three men in no hurry. One step then another. Little by little. Chipping away the wee minutes of the morning, walking for someone who couldn't.

You could tell that they certainly weren't there to be seen, not because they had to or even because they felt emboldened by doing something for charity. It was just a quiet, steadfast expression of support. Not a race to the end, but a determined presence to do something that from the outside looks like walking but intrinsically meant having paramount moxie to brawl with cancer. They weren't looking for thanks or even appreciation. They were doing it just because, one step at a time.

And what we're doing--a tee-shirt here, a conversation there--may seem small right now, but every time you tell someone about Kyrie or the foundation, you're growing the cause by leaps and bounds. You're part of this. Thank you for walking with us.