Long Walk.

This weekend I participated in the Susan G. Komen 3-Day For the Cure event in Michigan. I didn't get a ton of pictures because my camera is a tad unwieldy and I didn't want to carry it, but I took a few pictures around camp and at the cheering stations where Joel and the kids were often waiting. If you're not familiar with the 3-Day, it's a 60 mile walk, spread over the course of 3 days (surprise!) to benefit the Susan G. Komen For the Cure Foundation. The fundraising requirements were a little daunting (each participant has to raise a minimum of $2300), but with roughly 1900 participants, the Michigan 3-Day event raised over $5.4 million, the bulk of which will be used to fund breast cancer research.

1 in 8 women in the United States will be diagnosed with breast cancer; it's a disease that seems to find its way into nearly everyone's life, in one capacity or another. For me, that moment came nearly 10 years ago, when my mother was diagnosed. After surgery and radiation, she was deemed to be in remission and now, almost 10 years later, she's had no recurrences. In part, I walked to honor and to celebrate her. But, of course, not everyone's breast cancer story ends so well. And when I think about the girls and women in my life who mean so much to me, my reasons to walk are innumerable.

The walk itself was a really great experience. With so many (~1900) participants, it was really moving to have glimpses into other people's reasons for walking. Many wore buttons or t-shirts that named their inspiration for walking--mothers, sisters, friends, daughters, aunts, et cetera. I heard snippets of conversations by some women who had been receiving chemotherapy as recently as 6 months ago for their own breast cancer.

The actual walking aspect of the walk was sort of pleasantly grueling, if that's possible. Sore muscles and blisters were par for the course, the heat was almost unbearable at times (it was in the 90s and extremely humid all three days), and the monotony of walking between 16 and 22 miles a day was often taxing. But in those most difficult moments, when muscles were burning, and blisters were stinging, and conversation had lapsed, there was time and occasion for really important reflection, I think.

Walking this year, while Fiona is still so little, was a little tricky but, with (lots of) Joel's help, we pulled it off. The camp where I would be staying was located a little more than an hour from home, so we got Joel and the kids a hotel room in the area for the weekend, and he brought them to see me relatively frequently so Fiona could nurse. This worked perfectly well during the day, but the first night was pretty rough for Fiona, who has begun waking to nurse once or twice again recently, so the second night I stayed at the hotel with Joel and the kids and they just returned me to the camp at 6:30 the next morning so I could begin the final day's walk.

Sam, Lucie and Fiona, waiting for walkers to pass them on the course so they could spray them with cool water. Well, that's what Sam and Lucie were doing. Fiona was just waiting for me to come along and nurse her.

A quick nursing-break on Day Three.

The community support around the event was absolutely incredible to me. People decorated their lawns, sat on their porches cheering, turned on their sprinklers, and handed out all sorts of thoughtful "goodies" to the walkers--bottles of water, pieces of gum or candy, granola bars, frozen grapes, fruit cups, Mardi Gras necklaces, stickers...you name it. It was like a parade, except that the spectators were the ones to throw "candy." Some spectators set up little tables with pain relievers, band-aids, moleskin, sunscreen, et cetera for walkers to stop and use. Many kids (my own included!) had spray bottles full of cold water that they would offer to squirt at the walkers as they passed by. My personal favorites were the "dunk tanks" of ice water that people set out for walkers to dunk a bandana or washcloth in to cool themselves off and the baggies of ice that some people handed us to carry with us. I really can't overemphasize how hot it was.

Me, about to cross the finish. I was every bit as happy as I looked.

The first couple of days were relatively smooth from my point-of-view--I walked into camp (after walking 22 miles each day) in the evening feeling tired, for sure, but good. The third day--which was, incidentally, the shortest walk, at only a little over 16 miles) started out equally well, but by 11-or-12 miles, the heat was getting to me, my feet were absolutely burning, and I was ready to be finished. For me, the last 4-5 miles were really quite difficult. One of my teammates compared it to childbirth--that moment where you feel like you can't do this, but you know you not only can, but that you will (like it or not) and that, in all likelihood, you'll be glad you did. Not a horrible analogy, actually.

I am glad I did it. I'll almost certainly do it again--maybe next year (anyone want to walk with me? Will travel!), maybe in a couple years. But the cause is important, and the event is fantastic, and I look forward to participating again in the future.

I walk in honor of those who have fought and won, in memory of those who have lost (and have been lost), and in the hope that my children might one day not fight at all, because this battle will have already been won.