It's a Walk, Not a Race

As many of you know, 3 weeks before the walk, while hiking on a ridge trail in The Forest of Nicene Marks State Park with Dave, I slipped on some loose dirt and fell. While I managed the all-important goal of staying on the trail, versus falling into the ravine, I did twist my ankle pretty badly and bruised my hand. After the initial pain subsided, the ankle felt fine. We hiked all afternoon. When we got home and I took off my shoes, though, it instantly swelled up and hurt like crazy! I spent the next 3 days in total RICE mode – compression brace, sitting in the recliner with it propped on pillows, icing 20 min on and 20 min off. Total textbook treatment. I also stopped any extra walking to give it time to heal.

In those 3 weeks from the fall to the walk, I took excellent care of the ankle and fretted about whether or not this would be a ‘deal breaker’, if injuring my ankle so close to the walk would keep me from being able to participate. Being the all or nothing kinda gal that I am, I spent a lot of time wrapping my mind around the possibility of not being able to walk the full 60 miles. I told myself it’s not an athletic event; it’s a fundraising event. Whether or not I walk the full 60, the money has been raised and my ultimate goal, the end of breast cancer in my lifetime, would be furthered whether I walked 60 miles or just part of that and spent the rest of the weekend sitting on my butt at a Pit Stop passing out bananas and Gatorade. This balloon at the opening ceremonies caught my eye and served as a reminder of my new mantra – “It’s a walk, not a race. Savor the experience.”

The test of my newfound personal mantra came Friday afternoon. It was not my ankle causing the problem like I feared would be the case. It was pain in my hip. Intense pain, easily and 8 or 9 out of 10. Even with my really high threshold for pain, it was beyond what I could bear. I hobbled into the medical tent at Pit Stop #4 and whom should I find but my dear Angel, Linda. We hugged and chatted and she walked me to the bus and sent me back to camp. They met me with a golf cart and took me directly to the medical tent where my new BFF Dr. Andrew came to my aid. The pain, he said, was because my hips were out of balance, either as a result of the fall or from compensating for the pain in my ankle for 3 weeks. After a simple adjustment and some stretching, I was off to the dining tent. I stopped back afterward for more stretching and some Advil that kept the pain at a very tolerable 3-4 level. The skill and dedication of the medical crew, who are all volunteers, is one of the most critical pieces of the support team at the 3Day.

Despite taking the bus back to camp and not completing the full 20 miles on Day 1, I was surprisingly upbeat. I didn’t cry, I didn’t even feel terribly disappointed, which is quite different than my reaction to taking the bus on Day 2 last year. I was very pleased to realize that I had been able to rise above my own personal goal of completing the 60 miles and see that the important thing was the ultimate goal of raising money to help find an end to breast cancer. Those who know me well know that overcoming my competitive nature was a bigger personal success for me than the 60 miles could have been.