SGK 3 Day for the Cure DC. (Part 2)

Sunday morning I lay there in my sleeping bag, in our coffin of a pink tent, listening to the rain fall on nylon. To my left, in his own tent, Joe was snoring away. I could hear others outside breaking down camp. The sound of zippers and whispers filled the air.  Anticipating the day ahead I knew I would not be able to fall back asleep so I got up to get a head start. I figured I would need it, and I wasn't wrong. I crawled out of my tent with a towel and my toiletry bag in hand and high stepped it through the wet grass down to the showers. After showering I hit the medic supply tent to grab a fistful of moleskin and head back to my tent to assess the situation. While I was sitting in that tent alone covering my toes in moleskin and listening to my brother telling my sister she needs to get up because he's not pulling her in the tent 20 miles, I glanced over to the corner of the tent where my day pack lay. Pinned to that day pack was a list of 25 names; mothers, sisters, daughters, aunts, cousins, and friends.

These names were my people's people.  I may not know them, but someone I love does.  In that moment, thinking of the people who supported me so that I could be here, I decided I wasn't going to allow some nurse to tell me what I can't do.  I downed some Motrin put medical tape and extra socks in my pack and broke camp so we could go grab some food.
After breakfast we hopped in line to leave camp.  It was a perfectly overcast 70 degree day as we stood in line with hundreds of other people.  There was a buzz about,  an electricity that comes with anticipation.

While in line we got chummy with this guy:

He was walking with his family in memory of his mother.  He was a favorite among walkers and everyone around him quickly formed a line to get a picture with him.

 This is Dave. He parked his mini cooper at several locations along our route each day and sat on the tailgate with a big pink bucket of candy.  He was always smiling, always encouraging and he fast became someone we looked forward to seeing.

Joe with "Leotard Larry" as my sister dubbed him. 

By now we were adept at deciphering between between the "Angry City Driver" car horn and the "WE LOVE YOU DC WALKERS" car horn. And when we heard the latter all hands instinctively went  in the air in acknowledgment and gratitude.  

This is Marshall Moneymaker.  I have a very special place in my heart for this guy.

Marshall is a firefighter with Montgomery County Fire and Rescue and can be spotted by his pink fire helmet.  His intersections always had the best music and after the last of the walkers passed through his intersection he would roll by (on the way to his next intersection further down the route) blasting music and serenading us. It wasn't until I got home and found him on facebook that I came to know the story of how he became a warrior in pink. Marshall lost all 3 of his sisters to Breast Cancer. You can find out more about his promise to help find a cure on his website For3sisters.com

Once again, Duckman. He touched my arm and it was hard not recoiling.

These ladies were right behind us for most of the walk Sunday. They sang out songs like "let me see your tootsie roll" when we passed by Dave and his bucket of candy. They were either a really upbeat and fun bunch of girls or they were delirious with exhaustion, like us.   Likely a little of both.

About halfway through the day we rounded a corner and this was the view.  Our final destination.

Seeing that monument in the distance, knowing how far we had come and what little distance we had left to go, well its hard to describe but I think my heart leaped. 
As we were approaching DuPont Circle, where a huge cheering station waited for us,  I received a text from a dear friend of mine, Jitka, from back home in NC. She asked if we were anywhere near DuPont because they were dining there.  I was still 5 minutes, maybe more, away so we never got to connect but they got to see the procession of pink, my fellow walkers, And just knowing that they were there somewhere in the crowd was comforting.  Love you mama!

We came across this gal in the last 5 miles. She was one of many supporters that lined the sidewalk who clapped, cheered and most importantly called out "thank you!"

The last few miles of our 60 mile journey brought us into the heart of DC.  The streets are laid out in a grid pattern and walkers stretched out in front, and behind of us for miles. Arrows were posted on every sign and street lamp, reminding us to stay the course, despite the imerging temptation to veer.

As we trod down the road, heading north, we crossed an intersection and looked to the east to see walkers (leading us by a half mile or more) heading southbound.  They waved to us in sympathy.
I'm pretty sure I dropped an Eff Bomb at that point.  The route is just snaking through the city and though the monument is close,  just hidden behind the high rises, we haven't any idea how close, or far, we actually are.  That is, until we come to a sign that reads: 

NO SWEEP BEYOND THIS POINT.

No matter how far behind you are, you're close enough to make it the rest of the way.  And again my heart leaped. 

We stopped by the Obama's to say hi but Leslie and Chris didn't want to go in. You know, them being republicans and all.

And then there it was. Laid out beyond the hot dog, and merchandise carts was The Final Intersection. We crossed the street to a sidewalk lined with people, fellow walker's loved ones waiting to embrace them and high five-ing us as we pass.

As we stepped over the threshold from sidewalk to the grass of the national mall I was overcome with emotion. It was bittersweet to say the least. Amid thousands of people and with tears streaming down our faces my sister and I embraced with the understanding that we were not alone in our journey.  To be there in that moment with my brother, sister and niece is an experience that will tie us together for always. In alliance for two sisters with breast cancer.

As the walkers were organized for the processional into the closing ceremony they separated us from the
survivors.  Walkers went down to the stage area first.  And lining our path down was every single member of the crew and route safety. As always cheering us forward.

This photo was taken after the ceremony.

When the survivors began to make their way down the path to the 'survivors circle', a platform stage at the center of where the walkers were gathered, all 2000 of us raised a sneaker high in the air to salute both the survivors and those who have lost their fight.

                                                  What a powerful moment that was.

Team 3 sisters, after having walked every single step of 60 miles.  

This walk was an incredible life changing event for me. I have to admit, before we began I had the attitude:  'I raised the money, that's all that really matters.  If I don't finish, no biggie...' 

I was, in fact, wrong.

What really matters is being present for something bigger than you had ever imagined. Connecting with strangers, inspiring each other to go farther, to do more.  For Someone Else. We all have our reasons for being involved in the fight against breast cancer but the 3 day leaves you with an immeasurablee sense of pride and accomplishment.

That weekend, I was a warrior in pink; a part of a community of people who understood my grief and share my hope for a world without Breast Cancer.

 60 Miles.  I can do that.

SGK 3 Day for the Cure, Washington DC. (Part 1)

Its been a year and a half since we lost my older sister Kim to breast cancer.  Last September, right on the heels of our loss we decided to take her ashes to the Outerbanks for a long weekend of family, celebrating her life.  This year my sister Leslie, a breast cancer survivor, upped the ante.  She decided she wanted to participate in the Susan G Komen 60 mile 3 day for the cure. So my niece, brother, and I responded with: "Where do we sign up?"

Along with Leslie's good friend Joe, Team 3 Sisters set out to rock 60 miles in 3 days. 

This was, no contest, the hardest, most emotional thing I have ever accomplished.  Harder than giving birth, even, because every night as I lay my head down to sleep I knew I had to get up and do it all over again.  And much like giving birth, now that its over, I understand that the reward at the end of the journey is far worth the pain it takes to get there.





jackie, lara, leslie, chris & joe : day 1 mile 0.

In true Hammer Style we arrived to the opening ceremony late and missed the whole thing. I probably would have just cried through it anyway... By the time we got our luggage on the trucks the first of the walkers were exiting Nationals Stadium and beginning their 60 mile journey. With Katy Perry's 'Firework' filling the air we took our first steps too. The sidewalk was lined on either side with spectators cheering us on. They were a marvel in pink and  we had no idea how much we would come to need them.   It was a hero's farewell and I felt strong and proud.

We wound our way through DC passing by the capital, the monument, botanical gardens and the Smithsonian.  Along the route we were met by Komen Crossing Guards, big burly men dressed in pink Tu- Tu's and tights and biker chicks blasting music from their motorcycles parked on the curb.  Every intersection was a dance party complete with stretching.  After a few intersections you stopped caring about bending over and bearing your bottom to the DC traffic or your fellow walker.

Then the rain came.  At first just a light misting, then a sprinkle and by lunch a down right pouring rain.  Surprisingly we maintained our enthusiasm.  

This is Lida, also known by my team as "four blocks"  On our first day, before we had caught on to the "Komen mile" being equal in distance to an actual mile and a half  We approached her intersection and she shouted out to us: "only four blocks to lunch!" This was encouraging.  We loved her for this message, this promise of something better laying in wait just a few blocks away.   As it turned out it took us another 35 minutes to make it to lunch. Longest four blocks I've ever walked.

After walking  10 miles we couldn't wait to sit down, rest and eat some lunch. Only, we didn't realize there would be no shelter or chairs even.  So we sat on trash bags pooled with water and ate rain soaked turkey sandwiches.  And we laughed.

A gentleman business owner nearby saw the patheticness of the scene and opened his two-bay garage to us.

And it was like the Ritz.  I've never been more thankful for the kindness of a stranger.

Towards the end of the day I was in need of a major pick me up so we hit one of the many Starbucks on the route and I ordered myself a salted caramel latte.  It was the best coffee I have ever had and it did just what I needed it to.  With only a few miles left to go the guys started getting restless at the thought of a dry campus. So when we came upon a hole in the wall liquor store, we made a bee line for it. There was definitely something shady going on in this joint. When I asked if the shop owner had any mini airplane bottles of vodka he lifted a burlap sack that appeared to be covering the window and fished out a few nips. Offering them to me the clerk says "whatchoo want?  I have tequila.  You want tequila?"   "No, vodka" I say "Do you have vodka?" He fishes around under the curtain again and pulls out a couple of Smirnoff's and says: "Here tequila, have tequila." Taking the vodka I say "Thank you, yes I like this kind of  tequila."  He smiles and tells us they are 1.50 each.  Then he pretends to ring up the nips and pockets the cash.  With booze in our packs and a better outlook on life we finished the day strong but soaked to the bone and very, very tired.

As we crossed the finish line of day one we decided, as a team, to head back to camp for dinner and drinks and call Devon and beg her to come and get us and take us home for the night.  Not one of us could bear unloading our already mud covered bags and pitching tents in the pouring rain.  So we didn't.

Devon, being the hero of the day, came and got us Friday night and then promptly brought us back the very next morning at 7 am to begin our 21 mile route.

Day two was actually kind of boring.  We started our route in Potomac Maryland and walked all through Montgomery County including Bethesda and Chevy Chase.  We were in suburbia trudging down the side walk but at least it wasn't raining!   Here are some Highlight photos from Day two:

DuckMan. An old codger of a crossing guard.

Boobs.



The Sweep Van.  circles the route over and over waiting for walkers to GIVE UP  request a ride.

So each day before you set out on the route you get a 'schedule card' it gives you the mileage between pit stops (resting places to refill water bottles, grab snacks and seek medical care if needed) and lunch. On Day Two the last pit stop was called "grab and go" and it was stationed 3 miles from camp. After walking 18 miles we crossed over a bridge to find a small convenience store located on our route. This was the scene we came upon:

Walkers spilling out of the store onto the curb and into the parking lot with adult beverages in hand. It looked like a 'grab and go pit stop' and our fellow walkers called to us:   'COME ON OVER!!!'

So we did.

and we fit right in.

Chris would yell across the street to walkers: "Come to the dark side, you wont regret it" And you'd see them in their decision process, they would slow down to a saunter looking across at us, a group of strangers having fun together. They wanted to cross the street and join us but weren't sure it was a good idea with 3 miles still left to go.  In hindsight, the skeptics might have been right.  Leslie practically sprinted back to camp just to get to the port-o-potties.  Once we hit Avonel, which was the mile long street where camp was located, my feet were throbbing my calves were tight and I too had never been more eager to get to a port-o- potty.

3 Sisters having walked 40 miles.

Saturday night we pitched our tents and settled into camp.  I hit the medic tent to have a professional look at the two very large, very painful blisters that had taken up residence under my big toenails.

I wont gross you out with the details of what happened in that medic tent  but the nurse who was seeing me told me very matter of factly: "You wont make it very far tomorrow and you'll likely loose both nails so once you leave camp walk as far as you can then raise your arms for the sweep van. They'll pick you up and transport you the rest of the way."  Then she patted my head and handed me a sucker.

Okay that last part didn't happen.

But seriously, when she told me I wouldn't make it very far, all the wind let out of my sails.  I felt very defeated as I walked back to the tents to find my family.

 Under the big tent in the common area there were keynote speakers and people talking about how breast cancer has touched their lives.  There are only two kinds of stories: those that end well and those that don't and for me, neither are easy to listen to. Jackie and I ate in silence. It was hard being there, listening.  I lost my appetite. We quickly decided to head back to the tent. I was asleep within minutes of climbing into my bag.

I woke Sunday morning to the sound of rain on our tent. it was 4:50 am.

Part 2 continued here