Then she runs to a different stage to sing a song honoring thousands of survivors and the memories of

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1 September 24, 2016 LIFE Singer belts out a fight song for cancer patients - including herself Sept. 24, 2016 NEWPORT BEACH Robin Pollok would not be the same without the Susan G. Komen Orange County Race for the Cure. And the charity event, which turns 25 today, wouldn t be the same without her. Pollok might be the Race for the Cure s most recognizable voice. She s been singing two prominent songs at the event every year since She kicks off the race with The Star-Spangled Banner, always in front of a sea of breast cancer survivors and family members and friends and others running or walking or being pushed in a wheelchair in the charity race. Then she runs to a different stage to sing a song honoring thousands of survivors and the memories of

2 those taken by breast cancer who gather on the steps of the Pacific Life building. The second tune changes from year to year, but the idea is always the same: to offer tribute to the healing powers of tenacity and resilience. This year, her tribute will be Fight Song by Rachel Platten. As always, Pollok will sing to the survivors and the fighters and those entering the battle. Including herself. This is my fight song... Pollok, happily married at 53 and raising two teens, is battling breast cancer. Again. The recurrence, discovered in February, is her third bout with the disease. Pollok was diagnosed with breast cancer in After radiation and chemotherapy, and two reconstructive surgeries, she remained cancer-free until a recurrence in That time, there was more radiation and chemo, and in January 2015, a double mastectomy. She thought she had beaten it again. But a CT scan early this year confirmed what an aching pain already signaled: Her old enemy had not gone away; it just shifted to a different side of her body. Pollok seems unfazed. She still performs with a band when she can, most recently with the funk-rock group Project Tru. Having gone through so much already, Pollok figures she can deal with anything. I think I m better at handling things and figuring out a way to overcome them. Singing helps.... take back my life song... In her 20s, Pollok sang nightly in one band or another, playing venues around Orange County. They did covers and a few originals. At 27, she was laid off from her day job as a secretary in the aerospace industry, and bills were hard to pay. But she sang on, managing her own band. That s the year she met Scott Pollok. Three months later, she met cancer. A lump in her right breast turned out to be malignant. Pollok thought her new boyfriend would leave. But he stuck around, helping to nurse her through the disease. They ve been married 22 years.

3 Pollok was shocked, scared, frightened. Back then, breast cancer wasn t as well understood, or discussed, as it is now. But she kept singing, and taking community college classes to get her associate s degree in music. And twice a week for six months she drove from Huntington Beach to Cedars Sinai Medical Center in Los Angeles for her chemo.... prove I m alright song... Pollok became involved with the then-new Susan G. Komen Orange County, the local branch of what is now a worldwide organization that raises millions of dollars for research, education, screening, treatment and support programs related to breast cancer. The Race for the Cure, held annually in September, is the organization s most high-profile public event. Pollok was on hand in 1997, to front a blues-rock band called Room 105, one of several bands that volunteered to entertain and cheer on the runners. The band played at a spot deep down in the middle of the course, she says. A couple of years later they moved to the back of a flatbed truck, at the start line. But more thrilling for Pollok was being asked to sing the national anthem. She could and can belt. If you ve never heard her sing, it is like somebody touches your heart muscle, says Jane Hill, a breast cancer survivor since 1991 who serves as finance manager for Susan G. Komen Orange County. She is just bringing 100 percent of herself. Room 105 eventually broke up, and the band stopped playing the race. But Pollok kept coming back, solo, to sing the anthem. The most memorable year, not surprisingly, was The 9/11 attacks were still a raw wound, fresh in everyone s mind and heart. And emotions, at an event that s already an emotional gathering, were high. Pollok blew out the speakers.... Can you hear my voice this time?... She gets goose bumps every year, singing to such huge numbers for such a huge cause. Pollok looks out at the crowd so many of them in pink and sees some fidgeting. But most, she notices, stand with hand over heart. That gets to her. I always feel privileged because of this country and what it stands for. Pollok only performs The Star-Spangled Banner at the Race for the Cure. But she does it twice a year; at 7:15 a.m. to kick off the start of the 5K for serious runners, and again two hours later, when the more leisurely run/walk gets started.

4 The Polloks moved to Hawthorne years ago to be closer to her now-deceased parents, and the early start time for the first anthem means spending the night before the race at a nearby hotel, with her husband and two children, now 16 and 13. An alto, Pollok makes sure to get off to a good start by blowing a single note on her pitch pipe an A before launching into the anthem. If you don t start on the right note, in the right key, it can be very difficult, she says of the challenging song. And, for God s sake, don t forget the words. Pollok hasn t yet.... I ll be strong, I ll play my fight song... As moving as the anthem can be, the emotions really flow when Pollok sings the second song, the one that s a tribute for breast cancer survivors. That s usually between anthems, at 9 a.m. All the survivors are given roses. And they re saluted for the number of years they have continued after being told that, perhaps, they couldn t. The choice of tribute song changes from year to year, but the theme is always the same survival. The 2014 race was held when Pollok was in the midst of her second bout with breast cancer. Chemotherapy had taken away her waist-length, auburn hair. No matter; she greeted the crowd in a pink wig. Halfway through Warrior by Demi Lovato, she pulled off the wig. The crowd gasped, then cheered. She was as brave as could be, Hill says, choking up as she recalls the moment. It was showing that she s a warrior. The cancer this time has invaded the lymph nodes in Pollok s left underarm and arm and chest wall. It s stage 3, advanced, triple negative. All of that means common treatment is ineffective. So Pollok takes her medicine like a man. Literally. Several times a day she swallows a pill called Xeloda, which typically is used to treat prostate cancer. The Xeloda made her radiation treatment more intense, resulting in third-degree blister burns. But it doesn t torture her with the brutal side effects nausea, bone pain, headaches and more that she endured before with chemotherapy. Her hair has grown back. It s to her shoulders now. Pollok might be a warrior, but she says she often cries as she sings to the survivors. She doesn t expect this year to be any different. Or next year.

5 Because she plans to be back.... I ve still got a lot of fight left in me. Contact the writer: or twalker@ocregister.com or

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