the walk is finished, over for 3 weeks, and still i think on it. i just got my photos, and they bring back much of what my measely memory mislaid. what an amazing wonderful time.
i kept my supporters informed by sending a few pdates, and in them, i'm afraid i waxed poetical - here are some that get the heart of what i was doing and why --
"Here are things I have learned from walking for hours on end:
1. Drink Lots Of Water and Gatorade, Stupid. One bout of dehydration set me straight. I won't be making that mistake again.
2. Eat something before starting, preferably protein-based. Eat something again at least by the 10-mile mark, or every 3 hours.
3. Check for ticks after walking through tall grass to avoid a swampy patch of path. I carried home a good dozen ticks one day - eww.
4. Training by one's self can be very meditative, but once I started giving imaginary interviews to Jay Leno, I knew it was time to hook up with my team more often!
5. Ibuprofen rocks."
"I have developed a theory about this training. I imagine that, for every one of us 3-day walkers who are out there walking and walking and walking, there is someone in the world going to their chemo appointment, or getting ready for surgery, or sitting in a doctor's office and getting that initial terrifying diagnosis, or waiting for a loved one who is going through any of those things. It is my hope in this theory that, as I and my compatriots work to get stronger, some of that strength goes out to them, even though they probably don't know who we are or what we're doing. I hope with all of my heart that somehow, a little of our cumulative strength is given to them to get through one more treatment, get to one more appointment, or face one more day."
"I was asked by a very wise friend, "Why do you have to walk so far? Why make it so physically demanding? Why not just raise the funds and leave it at that?" I thought this over and over as I trained, and I think it's something primitive in us as a species. I think it's like a pilgrimage, like a walk-about, this 3-Day. Something spiritual happens when one's body is pushed further than it's supposed to go. Whether it's marathons run, or mountains conquered, whatever - these can take us closer to the gods so we can ask more clearly for what we wish. And when lots of us get close to the gods at the same time, and ask for pretty much the same thing, I would think it would be hard for them to ignore."
"So how was the walk, Jenn?? Well. It was amazing. It was actually easier than the training in some ways because of all the help we had. I made beautiful friends, most of whose names I will never know, other than motorcycle guy, and singing crossguard dude, and megaphone chick. And others I hope to know for a very long time.
Here’s a typical day of the Walk: wake up, 5:30am, ‘cause everyone else is, and there’s no sleeping when a camp of 3,000 gets up. Hit the porta-potty, get dressed, pack up. Gather friends, get breakfast. And what, praytell was breakfast? Well, I gathered unto my plate one fine morning: eggs, bacon, biscuits and gravy, cream-of-wheat with strawberry stuff, granola, yogurt, an apple, juice and milk. And I ate it all. We would go into “feed the engine” mode, just staring ahead, chewing steadily, and shoveling it in. and it tasted so good. Then hit the medical tent for the walking wounded, and on the road!
Every 3 miles or so, would be a pit stop, usually in a school parking lot, consisting of potties, water and Gatorade, snacks, and entertainment – a pirate stop, a PJ stop, survivor island (mmm, gummy worms…) – they were so creative and so enthusiastic! Then at major intersections, a crew member would be there to walk us across. Little signs were all along the route, pointing the way and telling jokes. The medic-vans would cruise the walking column, looking for people who needed a lift, honking and yelling encouragement, also in themes – Marti-Bra, Scoooby-Booby-Doo, the Pajama folks in curlers. And lunch would be a sit-down affair, a chance to change socks, get bandaged if need be, and chat a bit. And the cheering stations, where family would gather and shout “go Mom!” and “Thank you!” So much love, it makes me get all weepy again. I was unable to pass through these without crying from the appreciation and hope and determination of these folks.
We’d get back to camp to more cheering, and once I found a wading pool of ice water that was glorious! Get some dinner (see Breakfast for how high the plates were piled), shower off the day, hang out, and to bed by about 9. Repeat.
Through some neighborhoods, people would just sit on their front stoops, watching us go by, sometimes with signs or coolers of popcicles, or t-shirts – my favorite was a teenaged young man, who wore “Tough Enough to Wear Pink”. Some people were obviously going through treatment, with beautiful bald heads, so pale, so fragile, and so strong. So beautiful, in fact, that I couldn’t resist running up to them to give them hugs and words of encouragement. They were the most beautiful people I ever saw.
And now, I’d like to introduce our little group of walkers – Marion, my tentmate, who developed a sprained ankle on the way, and had them wrap the bejesus out of it, and kept on going. Sue, whose shoes weren’t big enough and developed blisters over every toe and most of her feet, but got very grumpy at the suggestion of taking the medic-van and kept marching – they finally cut the toes out of her shoes so she could finish. Connie, who had a Drinking Problem, from the form-lacking-function of her pretty pink water bottle – she was a walking wet t-shirt contest. Marcia, whose formidable spirit got us up most of the hills, despite her blisters. Kelly, who was able to talk to the most shy person and make them feel as though they were a sister within minutes. Angels, every one.
I took a little walk of 6 miles last Saturday, and felt so strong and alive and peaceful. These are rare attributes anymore, and I know how lucky I am to get out there and just simply put foot to trail. I hope to continue hiking, and visiting my little patch of training ground through every season."
Something i didn't realize at the beginning of this - to walk for 8 or 9 hours continually can beat a person up. we had a team of the walking wounded - stress fracture, blisters, sprained ankle, bruised bone - this is not a stroll in the park. these ladies are tough as nails, with determination and strength of inspiring proportions. and when we see those beautiful bald survivors, the pain goes away, and we keep going.
i know i'll be involved in this again. not sure if i can devote the time again, tho - so much got neglected for it. now, i'm catching up, cleaning, gardening, walking pup, socializing and returning to my wonderful rut of a life.
it sure was fun, tho.
