SEO Content appears the first in source code and on the very bottom of page. Its placement depends on Module.

1. Edit it in CMS "SEO Content" Content Area on normal CMS pages.

2. E-commerce categories have it in "SEO ("SEO Content")" section.

3. E-commerce Product is editable in "SEO Data (Content)" section.

There is default one that is in /styles/master1/c/ folder. If you want to replace it, just upload image with "caption-sub.jpg" name to the folder. Size should be 1920 x 320 pixels (6:1)

You can use Caption Image field in CMS to replace it on specific pages.

Or upload Category Image on category pages.

1. CMS - "Header" field

2. Ecommerce Category - category name

3. Ecommerce Product - product name

4. Blog list - blog name

5. Blog post - post name

6. News/Events item - news/events name


Blog and News/Events module also contain subtitle that is pushed automatically from modules

The Race to Say Goodbye by Cynthia Carr Falardeau

My heart jumped as the text appeared, “I am being released to go home tomorrow. Should be home by 4:00 p.m. PST.”

My pulse quickened as I typed back, “I will be there.  I want to be with you.  Love you so much.”

This simple text exchange was the connecting point between my beloved stepmother, Pat and me.  Pat was a patient in a California hospital.  I stood by on the east coast of Florida.  Just the day before she bravely shared the news of her grave future; stage four lung cancer – two weeks to six months to live.  She texted back, “I just want to go home and die with my dog.”

Numb and in disbelief I tried to digest the news.  Pat was one of the most resilient, bold, and brave women I have ever known.  Reality set in - her health was failing.  Transitions are never easy and this one was no different.

Without hesitation, I had a one-way ticket booked within minutes.  

I texted; “I will see you tomorrow.”  Pat texted back, “Please don’t come – I will need you later.”

To some her reply was harsh. To me, it was another sign of her independent and stubborn spirit.  

Pat was a former corporate leader who smashed glass ceilings to be one of the first women in the sixties and seventies to lead corporate America.  Her perseverance and strategic thinking showed me that anything was possible, even before Ironman coined the phrase.  

Triathlon has taught me, when you love, want or desire something, you can push yourself beyond exhaustion.  The days ahead would remind me that Pat wanted to finish the last mile.

Instead of ignoring Pat’s request for a delayed appearance, I typed back, “Too late – booked the first flight out.”

The next morning, I left my house at 3:00 a.m. EST to reach long-term parking by 5:00 a.m. and fly out before 7:00 a.m.  I would travel ten hours across the country to arrive at her doorstep by 4:00 p.m. PST.

Completely fried, I stood like a little kid at the foot of her driveway.  The huge homes in her exclusive neighborhood stood smashed together and for a moment I felt like they were standing in judgement of me.  With my Ironman Cozumel backpack strapped tight, I clutched my small rollie suitcase and fought back the tears.

Pat, like my late father, was not big on emotion, although love was always apparent. 

In the distance, I could see the ambulance pull up.  Two young handsome men jumped out to throw open the doors of the ambulance.  There was Pat, smartly dressed with sparkling eyes and a bright smile.  I couldn’t help myself.  I exclaimed, “You will do anything to get two good looking guys to bring you home – won’t you?”  In that precious moment she let out her signature laugh that came from deep in her belly.  The moment was stingingly optimistic.  For a second, I almost forgot that anything was different.  She tossed me her house keys and in a motherly tone, started giving orders.

Within hours it seemed like just another visit to her beautiful Davenport Island home.  

The coming days provided round the clock hospice and healthcare support.  I knew she was quickly slipping away.

Pat was a taskmaster, the absolute queen of organization and a dedicated health enthusiast.  She was my biggest fan professionally and in all things triathlon.  

Since the age of sixteen, Pat was an important part of my life, from encouraging the selection of my college, my first professional job, and approving of my husband as a life partner for almost thirty years.

When Pat gave me a list of tasks, I took them on with an eagerness to please.  I balanced my days working full-time from her bedside office.  I started at 5:00 a.m. PST to maintain my EST workday.  Intuitively, she knew when I was about to finish and would call out, “Cynth!  What happened today?  What country did you Zoom to?  What are female corporate directors doing to lead their companies?”  Her body was giving out, but her mind was razor sharp.

As I diligently checked off each task, I longed for the reassurance of more time.  Instead, each day she slipped away from me.  Her eyes glazed over, her beautiful face dropped, and body exhibited signs that the end was near.

In the process of locating requested items, I found the poetry books she and my Dad exchanged on their wedding day.

Pat had grown restless.  She tried jumping out of bed and even running down the hall.  Humor was my alibi.  I yelled, “I am the runner in this family!”  She was extremely hard of hearing.  Like any mom, she could hear her daughter and nodded in exhaustion.  To settle her, I held her hand and began reading the poems my Dad shared so many years ago.  

Just when I thought Pat would drift off to sleep, she sat up panicked and yelled, “Cynth!  I want to go home!  I need to go home!”  I held her tight and said, “You can go home!  Dad is waiting for you.”  Then there was this awkward pause.  My late father was an equal opportunity offender and a modern-day curmudgeon.  Panic filled my heart as I desperately wanted him to meet Pat at heaven’s pearly gates.  I said, “I really hope that Dad did not piss-off anyone on the way to meet the Lord.”

Pat gave me the greatest gift, another belly-aching laugh revealed a huge smile and her eyes looked bright.  The moment hung in the air like a precious gift.  We laughed a bit more and we exchanged endless “I love yous.”

Out of exhaustion, and with the encouragement of the hospice nurse, I went to bed.  The next morning at 6:55 PST Pat took her last breath and joined my Dad.  As I wept, my pastor gave the last rites over my cell phone.  Later that day, one of her business cards fell to my feet.  On the back was the scripture, 2 Timothy 4:7, “I have fought the good fight.  I have finished the race; I have remained faithful.”

Even in Pat’s departure, she reminded me that she had boldly sprinted to the finish line.

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