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

Fear, detailed.

I hear a cry, a piercing, terror inducing shriek coming from just outside our front door.
Its Liam.

I drop the dishtowel and run, full speed, slamming into the front door with both hands before pulling it open with alarming force. Just off the porch and to the right, about 25 feet, he is crouching, shielding his head with one arm and flailing his other arm as something, two somethings, encircle him almost playfully. One yips and swipes at him as the other takes a nip at his frantic little arm. Taking in the unbelievable scene I realize they are mountain lion cubs. Grabbing the broom by the door I jump from the porch to save my little boy. Before my feet even touch down something hits me, slams into me. A wall of beige fur and muscle knocks me to the ground and I tumble in the dirt swinging the broom at the advancing jaw and claws. Its the cub's mama and she is as pissed off as I am. Her jaw snaps the broom rendering it useless and after a quick glance at Liam still crouching, still whole, I realize what I have to do; I retreat back into the house.

I'm frantic as I tear up the stairs and into my bedroom closet. With one sweep of my arm I brush everything from the shelf as I reach for the long leather case. I drop to the floor and pull open the the unlocked zipper as I hear my fathers voice in my head ("If ever you need to use this gun you wont have time mess with a lock"). I peel the case away from the shotgun and stand to grab a box of buckshot from the shelf. It feels like I've been gone for hours and as I run back down the stairs panic begins to cripple me. What will I find when I open that door? Please God. I push the thought out of my mind as I reach the door. I crack it open and I can hear Liam crying. He's calling my name. I call back to him: "Its gonna be OK baby, just stay still, I'm coming." Laying the 12 gauge on the floor I rip open the box of shells and they fly everywhere. I grab a handful and turn the shotgun over to load the magazine, I get two shells in but my hands are shaking so bad I fumble with the third shell and it skips across the floor out of reach. Two will have to do. Standing, the gun at my side, I open the door fully and step out onto the porch. Liam is now laying face down on the ground with his arms covering his head as the cubs nip at the back of his neck. His shirt is shredded and he is bleeding.

Upon seeing me reemerge from the house Mama mountain lion hisses at me. Its a warning, shes telling me to let her cubs hunt. I call to Liam again: "Mommy's here Liam, stay very still now. Try hard for me OK?" Hearing my voice mama lion takes more interest in Liam. She begins to circle him, slowly, her head low. I take my position on the porch, one that keeps Liam out of my line of fire. She is watching, her eyes trained on me. Griping the gun so tight that my knuckles are white, I pump the action to chamber the round and raise it to my shoulder. With my index finger resting on the trigger guard I wrap my middle finger around the gun to release the safety. Closing my left eye to take aim I wait for her to circle back into my sight. The gun is heavy, my arms are shaking. I hear Liam whimpering with his face in the dirt and I am scared.

Suddenly she is there. And now I have to shoot her. My finger squeezes the trigger and I flinch as the explosion jolts my body and rings in my ears.


When I open my eyes I'm staring at the ceiling... I'm groggy. I feel breath on the side of my face and slowly turn my head to find Liam standing at the side of my bed his face only inches from mine. "G'mornin mommy" he says.

5 Things

5 things you probably didn't know about me:

1. I hate talking on the phone. There are only a few exceptions. One is my mother. I will always talk to her at length about everything and nothing. Another is if I miss you and am feeling exceptionally chatty. And finally, if I need something from you, ring, ring. Other than that I'm probably going to stay on the line only long enough to share or receive information. Its nothing personal. My dad is the same way; I blame him.

2. I love mayonnaise. Really. I use way more than I should on a sandwich, burger or wrap. I even dunk my fries in it. But I feel guilty about it, shameful even.

3. I own a gun. Again, when your father is a firearms and toolmarks expert it just sort of happens.

4. I have a very short fuse. I may have mentioned it before but I think it bears repeating. Due to my mostly shy and quiet exterior its actually quite comical if not a little alarming when I turn into the hulk. A few examples of me going off the deep end: If I bang my head or bash my elbow I will immediately proceed to slam my fist into the nearest unforgiving surface (I'm not patching any Sheetrock just because I hit my funny bone). Another time, I slammed an ashtray into a table which in turn shattered the ashtray into my palm. Stupid right? I know. I am not ignorant to the fact that I am now the role model to a strong willed, stubborn little person watching, absorbing my every move, every outburst waiting to make them his own when frustration strikes.

God sent me Liam, to teach me patience and humility... and he tests me everyday.

5. Prior to having Liam, I was a bully. no lie. Whenever I would drink, there would come a point in the evening of consumption when I would have one too many and become... volatile. To the point where something (anything) Chris would say would upset my precariously unbalanced emotional state and BOOM, I'm all:

"You're going to bed? Oh, so what, you're tired and you're just going to leave me down here? Fine GO AHEAD I don't give a... wait, where are you going? DON'T WALK AWAY FROM ME WHEN I'M TALKING TO YOU! You don't respect me!" And then I'm following him upstairs crying because I cant stay in a relationship where I'm not respected. Knowing the drill, Chris just shakes his head at me and pretty much ignores my ranting until I pass out. End scene.

Listen, we all have a little bit of crazy in us. Thankfully, I outgrew mine. sort of.

wasn't me.

He was supposed to be sleeping...

...instead he was tearing the place apart. Busted!

Confession

You'll need to forgive me, in advance, if what I'm about to share is insensitive or even offensive but I'm having a rough day. Maybe its because its Valentines day or maybe its because I'm feeling stressed about my job search or maybe its just because I really, really miss my sister but I don't ever want to see this commercial again:






Because every time I do, I want to scream. Or shout at the t.v. YOU'RE TOO LATE. I look at the faces of the people celebrating one more birthday and I think: why you?

Pretty horrible, right?

So instead of facing the bitter, selfish person I become over a television commercial that is meant to inspire and motivate, I just turn away. Before the tears well in my eyes; before I begin to count the days she had until her next birthday (23) or the days she has been gone from our lives (280) I change the channel.

But not before I think: Official sponsor of birthdays, psh... if you're lucky.

TOP 10...

...reasons losing your job sucks:

10. Unemployment is more of a pain in the ass than its worth

9. Not getting to hang out with your friends at work

8. Not getting to hang out with your friends at the pub after work

7. Feeling useless

6. Daytime TV is HORRIBLE

5. You're the reason your toddler is a Gymboree drop-out

4. Being THAT women in the grocery store shuffling between the coupons, and the list and the
flyer and the calculator, Its ridiculous.

3. Filling out job application after application and then playing the waiting game

2. Having to shop at wal-mart because it really is cheaper

1. Saying goodbye to a place you called home

...reasons losing your job aint so bad:

10. My house is always clean

9. Having time to learn how to use my camera properly

8. Having all the time in the world to plan and prepare meals

7. Not being too tired to read at the end of the day

6. Having the time to catch up on all my DVR'd shows

5. Making cookies and brownies with Liam

4. Play-doh, hide and seek, stories and nature walks

3. Play dates with other SAHMs (aka: out of work moms) that include copious amounts of wine

2. The inspiration the comes when considering the endless possibilities the future holds

1. Being home, every night, to tuck my baby boy into bed