Well I did it. I completed the Avon Walk for the Cure. Or, I should say, I completed 20 miles of it.
The first day was unusually hot and humid for Chicago, and I managed to not put my orthotics in my old walking shoes. My reasoning? “I’ll just wear these old trainers today and throw them away. Since I have a Herculean pain tolerance I’m sure the lack of orthotics won’t affect me in the slightest. In fact I’m certain I shall sail across the finish line at an alarming rate of speed!” Blah blah, you get it. Maybe it was the fact I had to get up at like 3:30 a.m. the morning of The Walk to get the shuttle.
Sidebar: all those years growing up in Illinois I never noticed the Chicago/Northern Illinois accent, but wow did it grate on my ears at zero dark thirty in the freaking a.m. Picture that SNL skit w/a bunch of women saying stuff like “Oh my gaaaahd, I key-ant believe I laaahst my comb!” crammed into a bus w/no caffein. Not quite hell, but the view includes it.
Anywho. In short, at mile 10 that first day I seriously began questioning my sanity. I considered quitting, I considered calling my mommy, and lying down on the sidewalk at various points. Gatorade, a semi-decent lunch and about 10 minutes of sitting down, and my perspective changed just enough to get me to the halfway mark, 13.something miles. Back at the campsite (ironically termed the Wellness Village, where people were lying on stretchers wrapped in foil blankets w/IVs sticking out, like strung-out baked potatoes), I staggered in, befuddled and even irritated by the clapping horde that greeted me there. All the way to the gear pickup site (which I’m sure was at least another 13 miles) I was bargaining w/myself…..”Ok, just a few more steps and you can just lie down on top of your backpack and rest. Then you can bail out and spend tonight in your nice fluffy bed back at Mom’s house. With a very large martini. Yeah, that’ll do it.”
I don’t know if was the congratulations heaped on me by the sweet-faced little 12 year-old girlscout who set up the tent for me, or my almost complete physical exhaustion, but I ended up staying, and I slept like the proverbial dead after what was probably the world’s most luxurious shower, followed immediately by the most delicious pasta dinner I’ve ever had in my life. Or at least it tasted that way.
Upon awakening (at dawn! Imagine my horror!) I was shocked to learn that I could still move my arms and legs. Getting out of the tent was comical, what with not being very limber, but I managed, and staggered off to breakfast after stowing my gear. My left Achilles, which periodically likes to take a vacation, was so sore I couldn’t walk without limping, but I threw down a few Aleve and grunted onward. The 2nd day wasn’t nearly as stultifying, and I met up with two wonderful women who were having a similar “Oh Holy Crap What The Hell Have I Gotten Myself Into And Oh By The Way Would It Be Possible For You To Just Smite Me Right The Hell NOW” experience. Long story short, we formed a strategy and finished over 6 miles that day (including a brief detour to a liquor store on Upper Wacker for some celebratory Schnapps).
I’m going to reveal something here, something you will possibly find maudlin or cheesy, but ….. when we 3 crossed that finish line, bandaged, blistered (left that part out), limping, exhausted, amazed, and just utterly beyond our physical limits, we all burst into tears. The crowds were applauding all of us wildly, and for the first time I think I realized how many peoples’ lives are affected by breast cancer. It was jaw-dropping. At the closing ceremony, we all hugged and cried and literally leaned on each other and it was one of the most powerful experiences of my entire life.
I almost can’t explain it. The closest thing I can get to describing the feeling I had at the end is “oceanic”–I was part of something that raised $8.3 million dollars and had over 3,600 walkers. I connected with some really cool women who kept me going when I didn’t think I could do it, and with a community of women and men who were all trying to effect a change. I felt part of something way bigger than myself, something without judgement or censure like the religion of my formative years, something positive and important. And it fucking rocked.
Two weeks later, I still can’t quite believe I walked as far as I did given how truly awful I felt those two days. But I did. I was on total high for about 3-4 days, like a goddamn rockstar! Unconquerable. Walking like an arthritic duck, but extremely proud of myself. The Walk has truly changed how I think of my body and what it’s capable of; not just short, explosive bursts of the kind of strength I used to use in shotput and rugby, but extended hours of pavement-pounding, shoe-ruining walking. I have a newfound respect for long-distance runners and the mental toughness it requires. I no longer shy away from long treadmill sessions at the gym or roll my eyes when my trainer slaps more weights on the bar. I will never be the same again.
So, a huge thanks to all you donors who read this blog and who donated to my Avon Walk for the Cure. You helped a lot of underserved women get better access to affordable, life-saving healthcare, and you also helped put me squarely on a path towards living a much fuller and healthier life. And….I’m doing the walk again in April 2008 in Houston, which just got added to the roster of Walk cities. Come cheer me on!
Or failing that, just send me your money. Save the boobies, save the world.
