My First Time

Susan G. Komen 3Day For The Cure
San Francisco, CA
October 2-4, 2009

Prologue

Breast cancer has been a part of my life pretty much as far back as I can remember. I was in my early 20’s when my Aunt Brenda was diagnosed with breast cancer for the first time. My sister and I, all the women in our family, were now considered ‘high risk’. We learned about self-breast exams. We had baseline mammograms done in our mid 30’s. That’s just the way it is.

I first learned of the Breast Cancer 3-Day nearly a decade ago. I was working in Sunnyvale at the time and from the office window I watched hundreds of women walk by on their journey. I thought about doing it then but life and its many events got in the way.

Fast forward to last summer. My sister found a lump in her breast. (She found it herself and even when the doc could feel it too, the mammogram still didn’t show it. There’s a lesson here – mammograms are a critical tool in diagnosing breast cancer but don’t forget monthly self-exams. Ladies – do your self-exams. Gentlemen – insist that the women in your life do them. Squeeze ‘em for a reason, baby!!)

Even with a lifetime of being high risk, this threw me for a loop. This was different. This was our generation, my generation. My sister is just 10 months younger than I am. It was no longer something the older generations of women dealt with (by this time my mother and my paternal grandmother had been diagnosed too).

I have a daughter. I have a niece. I have female cousins and they too have daughters. I have a brand new granddaughter.

This has to stop. Now. Breast cancer needs to be stopped.

I want my granddaughter to grow up in a different world: a world without breast cancer.

With Dave’s cross-country move last summer, there was not time for fundraising and training and preparing. But I vowed I would make the time in 2009.

The time to talk was over. It was time to walk the walk. Literally.

This banner was part of the stage background at the opening ceremony. I was immediately drawn to its message as a visualization of my reason, of my purpose in walking – We walk because we must. We are strong because the journey demands it. Together in body and united in spirit, we lay down our footsteps for this generation and the next. This is our promise:

A world without breast cancer.

Fears and Faith

The 2009 San Francisco walk was scheduled for Oct 2-4. I signed up in March. My primary fear was the fundraising. To walk, each person has to raise a minimum of $2,300. In this economy, that was intimidating to me. For many months I worried and fretted. Would I raise enough? How was I going to do it? What if I couldn’t? How much could we afford to give if I needed to make up the difference in order to walk?

By the beginning of Sept I was just about $500 short of the minimum. I stopped worrying about money and started worrying about other things. (At the time of this writing, I have raised $3,325. Donations still accepted until the end of Oct -http://www.the3day.org/GoTo/LoriBradshaw)

Physical - Can I do this? Can I walk 60 miles in 3 days? Am I fit enough? Did I train enough? Will my bad ankle handle it? The badly broken baby toes? Will my feet be ok or will the orthotics bother them after awhile? Will I get enough rest sleeping on the ground in a sleeping bag so that my body can recover from one day to be able to handle the next?

Psychological - I don't know anyone who is walking. I will be in a huge group of total strangers. I want to think that I will be able to handle it but the old fears are back. I'll be sharing a tent with a stranger. I'll be in crowds 24/7 and I do not handle crowds well at all. This would be a huge step outside my comfort zone. You may find it hard to believe but I'm really a very shy, introverted person by nature. The thought of spending 3 days under these conditions was very intimidating for me.

Some days I would sit and think about it (too much probably) and all that would come to mind was "What in the HELL was I thinking????"

Then I found the quote from my fundraising page:

“Courage doesn't always roar. Sometimes courage is the little voice at the end of the day that says I'll try again tomorrow.”

I made the choice to set my fears aside and step out in faith. In doing so, I left behind the possibility of failure and was able to move forward planning for success and achieving it.

A Journey of Sixty Miles Begins With A Single Step

I took that first step at 5:15 AM, in the dark and the cold. It turns out that this is the way all the mornings of this journey would begin.

I showered and dressed. I pulled my hair up and put on my ballcap. On the cap I had written the names of all the women in my life, the ones I’ve introduced you to.

I took the memory cards that had been sent to me, the ones with the names of the courageous women in all of my contributors’ lives, put them in the drawstring bag I’d made and tied them to my backpack strap. We gathered our things and checked out of the hotel.

I said goodbye to Dave and he drove off. I dropped off my duffle bag at Truck D. Now what. People were gathered in groups, teams. I knew no one. But I was determined that it wouldn’t stay that way.

I chatted with other walkers and crew members. I met Heidi and we ended up walking together that first morning. I’m glad I stepped outside my comfort zone and talked with others because if I hadn’t, I would have missed out on so much. The people I met were amazing.

A Common Purpose With Many Goals

We came together with a common purpose – a world without breast cancer. We chose this particular path for different reasons. They provided a huge blank canvas for us to share our individual goals, circular sticks in various sizes and shades of pink and some markers.

We were invited to add our goals to the group. This canvas was set up at camp when we got there Fri evening and was with us all weekend, a reminder of our personal goals, and a statement of our common purpose.

And The Tears Flowed Freely…

Picture, if you can, 1,500 walkers, 300+ crew members, sponsor reps, photographers and news crew... all gathered together for the Opening Ceremony. Various speakers take the stage, thanking us for our fundraising and for being willing to take this journey. There was much cheering. The adrenaline is flowing freely. Teams and individuals, first timers and veterans, all excited and ready to go.

One by one the Honor Guards take the stage, each proudly carrying a sign to represent the women in their lives who have been affected by breast cancer. By the time they had all passed, there was not a dry eye in the place. Every person in the group was thinking of their own personal reasons for walking, the women in their lives who were also represented by the banners. Like the others gathered here, my mind was filled with memories and my eyes overflowed with tears.

My Aunt

I have many fond memories of family gatherings at Aunt Brenda’s house, a warm and inviting home filled with love and laughter. I’ve always had a special affinity with Aunt Brenda because we share the ‘black sheep of the family’ stigma of multiple divorces. I’ve been watching her fight breast cancer most of my adult life. She is one of the most courageous people I have ever met.

My Grandmother

Holiday memories always included dinner at Grandma’s house. Memories of Christmases impatiently waiting until all the dishes are done and every piece of the good silver is counted and put away so we could FINALLY open presents, of flannel nightgowns and ballerina birthday cakes and trying to snitch a handful of the homemade noodles that were drying on newspapers in the front room.

My Mother

Childhood memories of sponge rollers and pincurls and really tight home perm, of how she dressed Bonnie and I like twins, the pictures from her wedding day when the wind caught her dress and blew it up and of her and dad through the back window of the car as they drove away on their honeymoon.

And Dorie, my former mother in law, and her picture perfect table settings and her penchant for family tree research. I remember how frail she was, due to a double radical mastectomy when she was a young woman, a procedure that cured her breast cancer but left her permanently disfigured and disabled.

My Sister

As little girls, we’d lay in bed and talk and giggle way past our bedtime, from the time she could talk I would hear ‘I’m as old as you are’ for those few weeks each year between her birthday and mine. I remembered her diagnosis last summer and how helpless I felt in California while she was going through surgery and treatment in Ohio.

My Friend

I thought of Tricia and Bev and Paula and Robin and watching each of them deal with their diagnosis and surgeries and treatments and fears.

My Neighbor

I thought of the many women I’ve met since I started fundraising, the women in your lives, especially the younger ones, and how breast cancer is striking women at who are younger and younger and how they should be learning who they are and want they want, that they should be building their lives, not fighting for them.

My Daughter

I thought of Danielle and Larissa and the first picture of the two of them together, looking at each other just moments after Larissa’s birth. I remembered how Danielle has wanted to have a baby of her own since she was old enough to hold a baby doll... and how I don’t want her to miss a moment of the joy that motherhood will bring.

And the tears continued as the breast cancer survivors walked on stage and formed a circle, holding hands. Then they took up their banners and lead the way as the walk began.

Pink As Far As The Eye Can See

And off we went, a sea of pink in every shade imaginable, flowing through each community as we walked; pink hats and shirts and shorts and shoes, pink pompoms and boas and tutus, pink bunny ears.

The shirts and banners and pins with their slogans were particularly entertaining. I think I saw/heard/read pretty much every slang term for breast that I knew existed.

This is one of my favorites, not just for the beautiful verse but also because it is on the shirt of this grandfatherly gentleman. It reads:

With the help of God
And fellow walkers
We can surely save
Those priceless knockers

A Cause With A View

The San Francisco 3-Day has got to be one of THE most beautiful walks all year! We started at Cow Palace in Daly City and walked west to the ocean and then north along to coast to the Golden Gate Bridge on Fri, crossed the bridge and walked through Sausalito and up to Mill Valley and back on Sat and then up and down and all around (major emphasis on the ‘up and down’ part!) the upper right quadrant of San Francisco on Sun – areas like Haight Ashbury, Little Italy, Chinatown, Golden Gate Park, the de Young Museum and Japanese Tea Gardens and bringing us back to the foot of the Golden Gate Bridge for the Closing Ceremony on Marina Green near Fort Mason. The scenery was impressive and inspiring:

Speaking of Scenery

With a group this size and the variety of the routes we walked – streets of Sausalito and Mill Valley and Daly City and San Francisco, along highways and trails and streets – safety of the walkers is the #1 priority. Which is why the San Jose bike cops were our constant companions all weekend. ;-D

They rode along side us every step of the way. They provided additional safety on the major intersections in the cities. They kept an eye on us when we were walking along trails and places where the sweep vans didn’t have access (and, yes, we kept an eye on them too!) They chatted with us. Several of them had boom boxes strapped to the back of their bikes and provided music to keep us motivated. They watched over those who were struggling. They added their own brand of humor and fun to the weekend and were an awesome part of the experience

First Day is For Learning

I started the day walking with Heidi. We talked some, got to know each other, our reasons for walking, etc. It was nice and a good distraction.

We parted company at the second pit stop. Because of all the issues with my feet, I needed to stop for 5-10 min at the pit stops and she wanted to keep moving.

Walking on my own was great. I could walk at my own pace. I could stop and take pics when I wanted to without feeling like I was holding someone back. When I wanted company, there were always others around to chat with. It was the way to go.

I hadn’t expected it to be so hot. True, the temp wasn’t that high, or so I’m told. But we spent most of the day walking a rec trail along the coast and there was zero shade. I was careful with sunscreen. The view was breathtaking. I love the ocean so this part was a special treat for me.

I won’t lie to you. It was tough, tougher than I expected. Dave and I have hiked 10-12 miles before. I’ve even put that much on my pedometer per day for 3 days in a row. But this was different. I don’t know if it was the lack of shelter from the sun or walking mostly on cement or the terrain. All I know is that by lunchtime I was beat.

I sat down on the grass and got rid of my pack. I pulled off my shoes and just sat there for a bit. I turned on the phone and sent a few texts. Then I put more Glide on my feet, put on a pair of clean socks and my shoes, grabbed a few snacks and was on my way.

By mid afternoon I started getting cramps in my calves. At first they were infrequent and a good stretch would get rid of them. But they got worse. About half a mile from the pit stop, I got a charlie horse like I’ve never had before. The muscle in my left calf was as hard as my shinbone. Someone saw my distress and stopped to help. She was able to massage the muscle and get it to relax. I limped the final half mile to the pit stop, stopping about every 30 steps or so to stretch my calves. I went straight to the medical tent.

Hydrate! Urinate! Stretch! Stretch! Stretch!

This lovely lady named Linda sent me right to one of the cots inside the tent. The shelter from the sun brought nearly immediate relief of my weariness. As we were filling out the forms, I unlaced my shoes and took them off. She put bags of ice on both my calves and told me to lie down.

She took my vitals and left for a minute to talk to the head medic. She came back and asked how much I was drinking. I was honest. I was not drinking nearly enough. They made me drink my entire 27 oz water bottle full of Gatorade before I could go.

After about half an hour, Linda was taking my vitals again. She said they were better and that I wasn’t so hot and sweaty any more. I said being in the shade had helped and I asked her if my face was still red. She asked what I meant. I said when I exercise, my face turns beat red and stays that way for at least an hour after I stop.

She said your face isn’t red, dear. It was pale when you came in. That’s why we were concerned. Pale skin, heavy sweating, rapid pulse… you were suffering from heat exhaustion, girl. Your pulse is down now and your color is better. I want you to drink an entire bottle of Gatorade between pit stops. If you are staying properly hydrated, you should need to hit the port-a-potty at every pit stop. Drink the Gatorade and eat the peanuts and pretzels and chips for the salt. And stretch every hour.

Then she asked if I wanted her to get me a ride to camp. I told her no, I wanted to walk, that I was ready to walk again and I wanted to finish. She gave me a hug and told me to go directly to the beverage tent and fill my canteen.

As I got myself together and headed out for the last leg of the walk, Linda waved and said see you at camp.

And in the background were 4 of the other medics, arm in arm, doing a cheer I’d been hearing the entire 45 min I was in the medical tent:

HYDRATE!!! URINATE!!! STRETCH!!! STRETCH!!! STRETCH!!!

Home Sweet Tent

I was now 5 miles from camp. The next 3 miles had no van access so once you started you had to finish. It was a beautiful wooded area so I took my time and took some pictures and enjoyed the walk. It was on dirt trails so the kind of walking/hiking I’m used to. I really enjoyed it.

I got to the last pit stop, did the whole hydrate/urinate/stretch thing and headed towards camp.

Finally the Golden Gate Bridge was in sight. It was beautiful! My confidence and my strength increased with the knowledge that I would make it through the first day. Success was in my reach.

There were a couple of stops for pics, including, of course, the inspirational SJ bike cops.

I saw this gentleman for the first time as I approached the last half mile or so. I don’t know his name. If I had seen him somewhere else, on the sidewalk in Santa Cruz or something, I would have dismissed him as one of the homeless men and women who sit and play music and collect change from passersby. I saw him several times over the weekend. Each time he was playing a different set of songs. This particular evening, he was singing You Are So Beautiful To Me. Nice thought for someone who was tired and hot and sweaty.

I checked into camp, found my duffle bag and wandered off to find my tent. I want to go on record as saying that exhaustion and manually inflating an air mattress are not a good combination. I could only pump for a couple of minutes and I had to sit down and rest. Seriously. It took me over half an hour. Then I gathered my things to get in line for the shower.

I’m not sure what Crissy Field is normally used for but the grass was kind of tall and the surface was VERY uneven. It definitely made walking even more difficult. But it was the only way get where you had to go so you did it.

I finished my shower, wrapped my hair in a towel and hobbled back to my tent. I called Dave and talked to him for a few minutes, walked to the port-a-potty one last time and within 5 min of settling into my sleeping bag, I was sound asleep.

It was 7:20 PM.

It Takes a Community

We walked through several cites, San Francisco, Daly City, Sausalito, Mill Valley and probably a few others I didn’t recognize, and the communities were just amazing, the people were amazing.

There were designated Cheering Stations along our path, usually one in the middle of the morning walk and one in the middle of the afternoon walk. Family and friends of the walkers and crew could come out to these areas and cheer for us. Many were in place for several hours, cheering and smiling, Some had small pieces of hard candy or gum to help with mouths dry from the exertion. Sometimes small children would hand out stickers or other mementos. There was a lady with twin girls in a playpen. She was there to support her mom, who was walking. The babies were Larissa’s age. I stopped for a moment to talk and to thank her for bringing the girls to cheer. I told her that they are the same age of as my granddaughter and that seeing them encouraged me and strengthened me in my goals and my purpose. She thanked me for walking to help end breast cancer for the sake of her daughters and their future. Yep. You guessed it. More tears.

There was this lady who was there each morning, first thing, stationed within the first block or two of our path. She had a box of Kleenex in each hand. The tissue lady. A very practical way to show support – its cold and windy on the bay at night and what happens when you spend time outside in the cold and wind? Her simple gesture saved literally hundreds of shirt sleeves from becoming handkerchiefs that weekend!

There were several fire departments represented in our path. They cheered. They posed for pictures. They showed their support.

There were groups of high school cheerleaders. A boy scout troop was there the first night to help set up tents. As we walked through the cities, we passed through the downtown areas and some residential too. While downtown, we would pass outdoor restaurants and people would spontaneously stand and applaud us. Through the residential areas, kids would sit on the steps and watch and cheer, families would decorate the entry to their home and sometimes have upbeat music playing and they would sit and cheer. All along the path, in addition to the walk-sponsored signage guiding our way and encouraging us, there were hand written signs of all sorts, cheering individual walkers and signs saying thank you to all of us and all sorts of uplifting messages of encouragement.

There were sweep vans that drove back and forth on our path all weekend long. They were part of the all volunteer crew. But these were no ordinary vans. We had the Bunny Van, complete with bunny ears in the appropriate size. We had the TaTa Day Spa. We had Hookers for Hooters. They were there to protect us and to help those who couldn’t get to the next pit stop on their own but they also brought fun to the day.

Many of the women were survivors themselves. Big Red, one of the Hookers for Hooters, was celebrating 13 breast cancer free years that weekend. We celebrated right along with her.

Day Two Dawns

Believe it or not, I slept like a baby in that sleeping bag on a half inflated air mattress in a hot pink tent on the windy San Francisco bay. And even though I fell asleep at 7:30 on Fri, I slept until 6:00 AM on Sat. Ten and a half hours. In one night. Those of you who know me know that 10½ hours is nearly 2 nights worth of sleep for me.

I woke feeling physically refreshed and doing pretty well, once I willed my legs to move and get my body out of the tent! Once I started moving, I actually felt pretty good. I got dressed, got a bit to eat and set out on my way.

Day two is the hardest. I was told that is always is the hardest day of the 3. Our path was to cross the Golden Gate Bridge and walk to Mill Valley and back. A total of 22 miles.

The first part of the walk, across the bridge, was amazing. Anyone who has been on the bridge at sunrise knows what I mean. I have pics but they cannot truly to it justice. I walked and took pics. It was a lovely way to start my day.

They were right. The walk on Sat was really hard. It was fun walking around Sausalito, through the city, seeing up close the houses and things I’d only seen from a boat on the bay. A lovely and interesting city.

We had our security crew with us all the way as well as our bike cop companions. They were awesome. Some were on bikes, some on motorcycles. All the vehicles were decorated. A pink bra on the motorcycle fairing. A pink teddy bear mascot strapped on the back. A pink bra with extra large cups becomes a bike basket. The ideas were very creative and quite humorous.

They rode with us in places where the sweep vans didn’t have access. They waited on busy street corners and put their orange vested selves between us and the cars to make sure that no one started into the intersection until all of us were safely on the other side.

But their role was so much more than that. They were rowdy and full of energy. They cheered and laughed and made jokes. The encouraged us and gave us a hard time if we weren’t stretching while we waited for the light to change. Later on, along the trails, they had gallons of water to replenish our bottles if needed. They kept track of how many mile we’d walked and how much farther until the next pit stop or lunch or camp.

One lady had a little toy dinosaur. As you walked past her in the cross walk, she’d touch your shoulder with the dinosaur and say something about how dinosaur lovin would get you through. And the one guy had a stuffed duck and a kazoo and he’d blow of the kazoo and then yell ‘Walk towards the duck, ladies!” Sure it was silly. But laughing helped. And their energy was contagious.

It’s All About The Stickers, Baby!

Many of the pit stops had a theme. It added to the fun of the day. They all had the same tents set up – medical, beverage and snacks. Very few had shade, unfortunately. We’d come in, hit the port-a-potty line and then stock up on whatever we needed.

At the entrance to the pit stop, there were crew members there to cheer for us and congratulate us for making it that far. One person would be feverishly clicking away on a counter, trying to keep track of us. And a couple of people would be handing out stickers. Most of us put them on the plastic pocket that held our walk credentials. Here we are, hundreds of grown women, standing in line for a sticker like a bunch of toddlers. On day two especially, it was all about the stickers. Silly? Maybe. Juvenile? Probably. But for those who were struggling, the stickers became a real, tangible representation of overcoming the sore feet and screaming quads and the weariness of battle. The stickers recorded our hard won victory, a 22 mile journey we were accomplishing in 3 mile intervals. Another life lesson – celebrate the small victories cause they make you stronger for the bigger battles.

The Mental Battle Begins

I slept really well Fri night and when I woke up and got moving a bit, I felt pretty good, physically. My battle on the morning of Day 2 was a mental one. The thought of walking 22 miles in less than 12 hours was extremely overwhelming to me. It was at least 8 miles more than I had ever walked in a day and based on what I’d learned on Fri, I was so afraid I wouldn’t be able to do it. I was literally overwhelmed to the point of immobility.

This was the point at which I gave myself a stern talkin’ to. I applied a philosophy that has kept me sober for the last 17 years and smokefree for 5. I told myself that all I had to do was take it one pit stop at a time. I gave myself an out – if I got to the next pit stop and I wanted to stop, I could take the van and go back to camp. If I wanted to go on, I could do that too and gave myself the same option to take the van when I got to the next pit. It worked, just like it has all of those years. With each pit stop, with each gain of 3 miles or so, my determination grew. As the miles added up, I told myself I’d come to far to give up. And I kept moving on.

In a Port-a-potty, I Found Strength

The bridge, the sunrise, the streets of Sausalito, they distracted me and at first the burden of my mental struggles wasn’t so bad. Once we got through Sausalito, though, the weariness set in, I started to get blisters on my feet and we started up the rec trail to Mill Valley. The trail ran parallel to the highway, had absolutely no shade whatsoever and was not very scenic at all. The mental struggle deepened. I willed myself to the next pit stop. I really had no choice. Between us and the highway was a wide swatch of grass and a fence. There was no sweep access on this part. The only way to get to the next pit stop was on my own power. So I summoned up a fair amount of inner strength, and an even larger portion of pure stubbornness, and I walked on.

When I reached the pit stop, my first stop was the port-a-potty area. I got into line to wait. I got to the front of the line and when the next door opened, I stepped inside. I slid the pack from my back, covered the seat and sat down. On the inside of the door I found this message: “If you pick ‘em up, O Lord, I’ll put ‘em down”.

For many people, it would have been words easily dismissed. But I was raised Catholic, I had attended church services in several different denominations over the years and while I no longer belong to any organized religion, I do have a strong spiritual basis to my personal philosophies, lifestyle and choices. For me, it clicked.

This is what got me to lunch.

If you pick ‘em up, O Lord, I’ll put ‘em down became my mantra for the day.

The Turning Point

Blisters are the most common problem for walkers. Yeah, I know. Big surprise, right? I was very careful to change my socks to keep my feet dry, reapply Glide each time I stopped, etc. But the sheer number of steps in the journey finally started to take its toll. By late morning on Sat, I was starting to get blisters. Not a big deal for me, definitely not a show stopper at all. Just a minor inconvenience really. It meant that along with a 5-10 min rest for my feet, a trip to the bathroom, applying sunscreen and refilling my water and Gatorade, I had to stop at the medical tent each time to put new piece of moleskin on the sore spots on my feet. I saw so many women who had problems much worse than mine plus I was taking Advil every 4 hours anyway so the pain truly was a non-issue.

Lunch time was a turning point for me, both literally and figuratively, despite the fact that I didn’t actually eat anything. Literally, it was the farthest north that we were walking and when we were ready to leave the lunch area, we started back along the rec trail we had walked on all morning.

Mentally, it was a turning point too, which was far more significant for me. I got there at 12:30. That was the 13 mile marker. I had walked 13 miles in just over 5 hours. I had 8.5 miles to go to get back to camp and 6 hours to do it. Even taking into account the fact that fatigue and tired muscles would probably slow down my pace, it was enough time. This was a huge revelation for me. I was overwhelmed by the 22 miles because I didn’t think I could maintain a pace that would allow me to complete 22 miles in 12 hours.

For the first time that day, I began to believe I would do it, that I would complete the 22 miles on my own two feet. Can you imagine what that did to boost my mood?

So I took care of all my stops and sat down for a few minutes to rest my feet and change my socks. I turned on my phone to check in with Dave and Aaron and several friends who were updating other friends of my progress. Each time I would turn on my phone I would find at least half a dozen message of encouragement from friends back here and all over the country. Those messages strengthened me and helped me to know that I was the one taking the steps but I was not walking alone.

Take The Time to Stop and Smell The Roses

No, there weren’t literally roses on our path. Its too late in the season for that and most of the early afternoon was spent on the rec trail again. This time, though, I didn’t let the lack of interesting scenery and monotony of the path get to me so much. I started talking with people, with others who were walking alone. I started by making sure they were doing ok and just kind of chatted – is this your first walk, why are you doing this, where are you from, etc. I met some very wonderful people that I would have never met had I remained in my previous funk. This pleased me greatly and gave me strength.

I walked for a bit with a young girl named Colleen. She was part of a team I’d seen off and on all weekend but she was walking alone. Most of the team was ahead of her. She, too, was walking at her own pace. I estimated her age to be mid to late 20’s, about the same age as my daughter. She was a breast cancer survivor and between surgeries which is why her pace was slower than her companions. I only walked with her for about 15 min or so but in that short time, I came to greatly admire her. Here was this very young woman who should have been focusing on planning her life and her future and instead most of her energy had been focused on simply saving her life. And here she was, still very much in the middle of her fight, and she was walking to raise money and awareness to help other women who were or would be on that same journey. Wow.

There were women, and a handful of men, of all ages, sizes, ethnic origins, etc. The entire weekend was a really neat people watching experience. There was this one lady that I kept seeing on the route. She was walking a bit slower than the average walker, like I was. I estimated her age to be maybe late 60’s. She had a walking stick in her right hand and wore a big shawl all weekend. On the shawl, in big hand written letters, it said Auntie Aggie. Surrounding that message were probably 30 or so pink ribbons loops, each one pinned on by hand. Sat afternoon I decided to ask about Auntie Aggie.

The lady’s name is Sandy and she is from Ontario. (I assumed Ontario, Canada, of course but just recently remembered that there is a city named Ontario in southern California so I could have been wrong in that assumption.) Auntie Aggie never had children of her own so she doted on her nieces and nephews. Sandy told me of some of her childhood memories of Auntie Aggie, of her battle with breast cancer and how Auntie Aggie had lost her battle just 3 years ago. Sandy was walking for the first time and was alone, like me. I was impressed with her quiet determination as she made her way along the path in honor of her favorite aunt.

At the next pit stop, when I went to the medical tent to reapply the moleskin on my blistered feet, across the way I saw Linda, the medic who helped me on Fri afternoon. I yelled hey Linda! She yelled back Hi Lori! I said Guess what, Linda? I peed at every pit stop today! She said I’m so proud of you! I said I knew you would be. I don’t think I focused this much on bodily functions since I was potty trained as a toddler. :D

More Tears, More Pain

And I’m off again, one foot in front of the other, just pushing to the next pit stop. I started to get some pain in my left shin. I focused more on my stretches and my Gatorade and kept on walking. I was at mile 15, just past a pit stop. The stretching seemed to relieve the pain so I kept moving forward.

About the time I got to the grab and go on mile 16 (just port-a-potty, beverages and packages snacks, no medical tent) the pain wasn’t going away. I took some more Advil, stretched for quite awhile and moved on. Next medical care was the pit stop at mile 19.

I took my time, stretched, and still I hurt. I was in an area with no sweep access. I had to find a way to go on. And I did go on but every step hurt. At times it felt like my leg was breaking. I moved to walk the trail because the hard surface of the blacktop was making it worse.

I made it to the pit stop on sheer will alone. Two of the greeters took me to the medical tent, one on each side of me, helping to hold me up. I collapsed on the cot.

Tears. Yes, some were for the pain. Mostly, though, they were tears of anger and frustration. This was a showstopper. I tried to deny it at first but as I talked with the medic I had to face it. The last 3 miles to camp included crossing the bridge, climbing stairs and a major uphill incline.

I had to make a choice. I figured I could probably gut my way up the stairs and the hill and across the bridge. I also knew that if I pushed it too far, the shin splints would be so severe that I might not be able to walk at all on Sunday.

Dammit!!! I had come so far!!! And it was only 4:30!!! I had time. I had time to walk the last 3 miles! All day long that had been my fear – that time would run out and I’d be forced to take the sweep van (all walkers had to be back to camp by sundown and if you ran out of time, you had to take a ride back). After fighting the physical pain, the blisters, the fatigue, the mental battle with my fears overwhelming me, after all of that I had to take the bus back to camp. I really couldn’t take the pain any more.

The frustration, the pain, the disappointment and the weariness combined and I couldn’t hold back the tears any more. The medics were so good. Not only did they care for my physical needs but they listened, they brought me Kleeenex, they gave me hugs and encouragement. They helped me hobble over to the bus.

Back at camp, I limped my way to the medical building with the help of one of the medics. It was late afternoon, the sun was going down, the wind was increasing and I was in shorts and a tank top. One of the medics gave me her jacket and went to my tent to find my sweatshirt.

One of the other medics sat with me and comforted me. Again, the overwhelming emotions combined with the physical exhaustion meant I couldn’t control the tears. She stayed with me until I was done crying. Then she got me set up to see the sports med team.

Ice, some pressure point work and massage, another dose of Advil and some very creative taping and I was on my way. I gathered my things and got a ride in a golf cart to camp across the street. I hobbled to my tent, changed into my sweats, talked with Dave for a few minutes and fell asleep.

Another Day Begins

On Day 3 we had to pack up our gear and take down our tents and have the whole camp torn down by 7:30. I got up at 5:00, dressed and miraculously got everything back into my duffle bag. I turned in my bag, got a little breakfast and was on the trail when it opened at 6:45.

As I started back into the city, I turned back for one last glimpse of our hot pink tent city. It looked so cool there at the base of the Golden Gate Bridge in the light of daybreak.

Sunday’s walk was only 15 miles. Those 15 miles, though, wound around and around the streets of San Francisco itself – Chinatown, Little Italy, Haight Ashbury, etc. Some really neat areas.

What Goes Up Doesn’t Always Come Down

Anyone who has been to San Francisco knows that the city itself is very hilly. What goes up doesn’t always come down. Sometimes it just keeps going up.

We climbed hill after hill after hill. From one stoplight it was uphill to the next. And from there, uphill again. We’d climb 3 or 4 hills like that. It was easier not to look ahead too far but to focus on each hill one at a time. Just about the time you got to the next corner and you saw yet another hill, and an even steeper one, you would thankfully see an arrow pointing right or left and thank whatever Supreme Being you might believe in that you didn’t have to climb that next monster of a hill.

One hill at a time, one pit stop at a time. Unlike the day before, on Sunday I really never doubted that I would complete the miles. I become more confident with each step. Sure, my shin still hurt some, my blisters were getting worse, my quads hated me more with each hill but I knew I would do it, I knew I had it in me to overcome all that and the fatigue and the heat. Somehow I just knew.

I sent texts at each stop, telling Dave and Aaron how I was doing. At the lunch stop, I told them I was feeling great and that I was going to rock this walk.

The security people were at a lot of the major intersections. They were as cheerful and upbeat as ever. Each one would tell us how far we’d gone and how far we had to go. Six miles? Just six miles? Hell, that’s nothing! No problem!

And it truly felt like nothing. I know that was the adrenaline kicking in but whatever it takes, baby!

The Littlest Angel

At last we saw it. The sign that said, “Holding 1 mile ahead”. Almost done. Just one mile to go.

One of the men on our journey was walking in each of the 3day walks. He will walk a total of 900 miles for breast cancer awareness. He carries a huge banner on every walk.

There at the marker for the final mile, he was waiting with his daughter. She is 3 years old. She was handing out these angel cards and telling us all about what they said and about what her daddy was doing. She was precious. I listened. I took a card. I asked her if it would be ok to give her a hug. When I bent down, she wrapped her arms around my neck and hugged me right back. Too precious.

Party Time!

You could hear the holding area long before you could see it. The music was loud. The cheering was even louder. The holding area was on a baseball field. You entered at one end and collected your Victory Tshirts at the other. In between was a receiving line, people 4 and 5 deep on each side, cheering and clapping and saying thank you and congratulations and all sorts of things. It was amazing.

As I started through the line, someone stepped out of the line to greet me. It was Linda, the medic who helped me on Fri evening. She had tears in her eyes. She reached out to hug me and as she did, she told me how every proud she was of me. I, of course, am now in tears too. I handed someone my camera so I could have a picture of the two of us together. I’m not sure why we clicked or what her story was but Linda was my Angel that weekend and I hope she knows what a very important role she played in my victory.

The party!! Oh my, what a party!!! Loud music. Cheering. And dancing! Yes, dancing! We’d walked 60 miles in 3 days, we’d slept in tents, we froze our butts of in the cold bay night air, we peed in port-a-potties and showered in trucks with strangers, we had blisters and pulled muscles and sore feet and aching backs and yet, we were dancing and jumping up and down and carrying on and partying like fools.

And when the last walker came through the gate and into the holding area, every person in that field walked over to the receiving line to cheer for them. I’ve never seen anything like it.

We walked 60 miles together. We ate together. We showered together. We slept in tents together. We laughed and cried together. We made a difference together.

And now we would walk into the closing ceremony together, victoriously. We lined up in groups of 5 and linked arms. Now remember, there were 1,500 of us so even in groups of 5, the line went on forever. We marched down several streets and through the parking lot into Marina Green.