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