Our First Race Without Them: Finding the Courage to Show Up—and Run as a Bandit?

I’m thinking about doing the Long Island Cares 5K & Paws Walk with Freedom.

I want to go. I believe in the cause. But I’m scared.

Freedom and I haven’t run a race in years. The last time we did, our family included Scout, Liberty, and Justice. Returning to an organized run means facing their absence in a place where I remember having them beside us.

We lost Justice first. Liberty a few years later, then Scout.

Freedom was the adopted pup of Liberty and Scout. She has been here all along, sharing our life and our memories. Now we’re heading out together without them, and I feel that empty space with every memory of how things used to be.

Sometimes, running with Freedom almost feels like cheating on Scout and Liberty.

I know making another memory doesn’t erase the old ones. But knowing that and feeling it are two different things.

I look at Freedom and wonder how she experiences their absence. I can’t put words in her mind, but I know we shared a family, a routine, and a life together.

I miss that life. And I want to keep living the one Freedom and I still have.

Why “running as a bandit” crossed my mind

In running, a bandit is someone who joins an organized race without registering or paying the required entry fee.

That’s the word I was trying to remember.

I’ve thought about it because I want a little company without feeling swallowed up by a crowd. I picture Freedom and me moving along at our own pace, with space to breathe.

There’s also the cost. The registration page lists $44.15, including the processing fee, before race day. I wish there were a veteran rate. I didn’t see one listed, although that doesn’t mean there isn’t an option worth asking about.

The appeal, for me, is saving that fee and feeling less pressure about participating.

But there are drawbacks I need to acknowledge. Joining without registering means my entry fee wouldn’t support the fundraiser. It can also create extra demands on a course organized for registered participants, and organizers may ask unregistered runners to leave. Staying away from the finish line doesn’t make someone an official participant.

And taking an independent walk on an open park path is different from joining the race without registering.

So yes, “running as a bandit” crossed my mind. I’m being honest about that thought while weighing whether it fits the support I want to give.

Registering and walking could offer the slower pace I need. The event welcomes walkers and dogs, and there’s also a paid virtual option for people who want to participate away from the crowd.

I haven’t decided yet.

A small step can take a lot of courage

Being around crowds is hard for me. Weekends can be hard. Making connections can be hard.

I can want to be there and still feel afraid to go.

Someone might see a woman arriving with her dog and never realize how much courage it took to get out of the car.

For me, this would be an attempt to reconnect—with running, with people, and with a part of myself that I miss.

I want to stretch my comfort zone gently enough that I can take the next step.

Feeding a pet helps sustain a whole relationship

The October 11 event at Belmont Lake State Park supports Long Island Cares’ pet pantry and hunger relief programs. Baxter’s Pet Pantry helps families facing food insecurity feed their pets.

When I think about that, I see more than a bowl of food.

I see a dog continuing to walk beside a veteran. A cat curled up with someone who lives alone. A familiar companion helping a person get through another difficult day.

I think of that companionship as a mission.

Our pets have their own needs, personalities, and lives. They also become deeply connected to our purpose and daily routines. We care for them, and their presence helps sustain us.

Food helps keep that relationship going.

I know what it means to need that companionship. I know how much it hurts when it’s gone.

A meal today, support for tomorrow

There’s an old saying: “Give a man a fish, and you feed him for a day. Teach a man to fish, and you feed him for a lifetime.”

I think about both parts when I think about Long Island Cares.

Food matters today. Someone who is hungry needs to eat.

Support for the future matters, too. Through my own experience with VetsWork, I received help with my résumé and encouragement as I worked toward employment. That meant something to me as a veteran who wants to work, earn, and sustain herself.

Long Island Cares describes veteran services that include job training and referrals alongside food assistance. Its Supporting Our Seniors program provides food deliveries and community support to older adults. Those are different ways of helping people build or maintain stability.

For some people, moving forward means preparing for a job. For others, it means having enough support to remain secure in later life.

We all deserve food and dignity along the way.

To the donors, volunteers, and participants: look what you help make possible

If you’re a donor, your generosity can reach into a household you may never visit. You help make food and support available during a difficult chapter. To someone wondering how they’ll feed their family—including their pet—that help can feel heroic.

If you’re a volunteer, your time turns that generosity into something people can receive. The work you do and the welcome you offer matter.

If you’re a registered runner or walker, your participation helps fund the cause while bringing people together around it.

And if you’re someone asking for help, you belong in this community, too. Your life, your hopes, and the people and pets who depend on you matter.

These roles can overlap. A person who needs help today may volunteer tomorrow. A veteran looking for work may also be encouraging someone else. A donor may understand hardship from personal experience.

That’s the connection I keep coming back to: people helping one another have enough support to keep going.

Faith, grief, and the love we carry

My faith is part of how I face this.

One image I’m sharing shows Jesus holding Scout, Liberty, and Skyla in His heavenly home. Below them, I’m kneeling, looking up, and beginning to make the sign of the cross.

It expresses my hope that they are safe in His care—and my gratitude for the time we had together.

That image touches something I struggle to explain in words.

I’m thankful. I’m grieving. I want another run with them, even though I know it can’t happen the way it used to.

My faith gives me somewhere to bring those feelings.

You may find comfort differently. Perhaps you know the feeling of carrying someone’s memory into a place you once shared.

That’s what Freedom and I would be doing.

Would you cheer us on?

I’m still considering how to participate. I may register and walk. Before deciding, I’d like to ask about a veteran discount.

What I know is that this feels bigger than a 5K.

It’s about missing our family. Finding courage. Supporting people and pets. Giving myself permission to make another memory with Freedom.

I joked with myself that ten people saying, “Go, Pam and Freedom—you can do it!” might get us there.

Honestly, a little encouragement would mean a lot.

Have you ever returned to something you loved after losing someone who shared it with you? What helped you show up?

Please send me a reply, I’d love to hear from you! Actually Free and I would love to hear from YOU and your dog!

Hit reply or email us at pamela@doggonehealthychoices.us​

If Freedom and I take that first step, we’ll carry a lot of love with us.

Until tomorrow have a happy and healthy tail wagging day,

If your around Long Island why not join the run,

One foot, one paw at a time,

Pam & Freedom