Sixty Miles, Three Days, One Goal!

Sixty Miles, Three Days, One Goal! This is one of several slogans that the Susan G. Komen 3-Day for the Cure uses. I saw it on buttons and tee-shirts, and I like it. Because that is what thousands of us were doing September 23-25 in the Washington, DC area - walking about 60 miles in three days to ultimately achieve one goal: stamping out incurable breast cancer.

Are we any closer to attaining this long-dreamed of goal? It is too late for my sister, my immense inspiration for me to walk this walk in the first place. But it is not too late for many others. Consider this fact that I learned during the closing ceremony: that the five year survival rate for newly diagnosed breast cancer patients in the United States stands at 98%! That is astounding! Just in the last week, I read about two amazing progress reports in the fight against breast cancer. In one, scientists at Penn State had discovered a virus that was annihilating breast cancer cells in the lab. It was so effective that they assumed that all the samples were contaminated, and redid all the work - and got the same results. In the other study, making an antibody from breast cancer cells in a person that was tailored to that person's proteins and cells was really effective if the cancer occurred again, and especially so it if was used early in the reoccurrance.

We are closer than we have ever been, but it is still not enough. For example, if you are 40 or 50 with breast cancer and have a 98% chance of living five years, but then die after six or seven, that is entirely too much of your lifetime to lose. The goal has to be to either make these cancers totally curable, or at least make them a chronic disease that people can survive for decades with minimal misery or impact on their lives. And with someone dying every 69 seconds somewhere in the world from breast cancer, we still have a long way to go.

Sixty Miles, Three Days, One Goal! It felt great to be a part of this in 2011, and I am really glad I did it. But I will be even more glad when they report, hopefully in the next 10 years: "You know that elusive goal we've been striving for? Mission accomplished! Thanks, everyone, for helping!" Won't that be amazing news? I hope I am here to hear it, but if not, I hope my granddaughter knows that her grandpa helped make it happen in his own tiny way.

3-Day Closing Ceremony

After the last walker came in, and after we cheered for our hard working crew, it was time for the final part of our three day long adventure - the closing ceremony. All the walkers were told to line up 10 abreast (no pun this time), with all breast cancer survivors in the back. Although everyone struggled with this, somehow we did line up eventually. Then we walked through the Mall towards the stage while spectators on both sides of us cheered us on. It was actually pretty moving. Towards the stage, we divided left and right, and merged into the crowd. It was time for the Survivors' Walk.

When we completed the walk today, we were asked if we were a breast cancer survivor. If not, we got a white shirt, if so, it was pink. Most of the survivors had put on their pink shirt for this final walk. I looked out on the pink mass, seeming to be several hundred strong. They had all survived breast cancer and all of the awful things that happen as a result: disfiguring and painful surgery, chemotherapy, burning radiation. And now they had all walked nearly 60 miles for this great cause, so that one day, others would have an easier time of it. I gazed at the line of pink women, feeling so inspired and so fortunate to be here, a cancer survivor myself, yet still on God's green earth. As I studied the women in pink, and cheered for them, I wished so that my sister Ann could be among the survivors. She was for more than four years, but her cancer was just too relentless, too remorseless.Look at them! Look at their faces! Sometime in the last year, two years, five years, or more, each of these women were given horrible news by a doctor, four words that changed their lives forever: "You have breast cancer!" Their hearts probably nearly stopped with terror. Yet here they are now, strong survivors to inspire us all.As the surviving women stopped before us, speeches were made from the platform about this cause, and about the Susan G. Komen for the Cure organization. Many of the walkers took off a shoe and raised in in tribute. As a rookie, I didn't know about this, but I, too, removed my right shoe and held it aloft.Then the women in pink continued their walk towards the stage, moving between the two sides of the large crowd. Some of the survivors carried the banners that had inspired us for three days, since the opening ceremony:Just before leaving to grab my duffle and walk to a Metro stop for the trip back to my car, I took one final look around - at the crowd, the banners, all the pink, and to the surviving women on the stage. Doing this walk, being part of this cause these three days, will always be with me as a great memory.

3-Day Crew

I could not complete my accounts of the Susan G. Komen 3-Day for the Cure without talking about the amazing and hard working 3-Day Crew. Kind of sounds like a rock band, doesn't it? But without these volunteers, this event would be impossible. Susan G. Komen for the Cure is a charity, and charities have specific rules about how much of their revenues must to to the mission. Each crew member must raise about $500 to cover their direct and indirect expenses for the event, plus volunteer their time. And they have to work their butts off for at least three days. There were about 450 of them, or about one for every five walkers. What did they do?

Well, for starters, they were safety monitors. This walk had only minor police support. At every major, and many minor, intersections was a volunteer to make sure walkers obeyed traffic rules and didn't become roadkill. Many of them were in pink, including the men. They joked with us as we waited to cross. They were out all day in the rain on that first day. They also operated the vans that drove around all day in case someone needed a ride.

Along the route, there were lots of pit stops and "grab and go" stops. Every one of these had a staff to pass out food and drink, and a good sized volunteer medical crew - doctors and nurses. At the lunch stops, the crew served lunch, like these guys on the first day serving us in a driving rain. And at all of the stops, they collected trash and recyclables. In camp, the crew transported our luggage from the start (and back to the finish). They staffed the shower area, cooked and cleaned up from two great meals a day. The organized the lines to the buses, and manned the camp post office. They put up and took down all of the Remembrance Tents. They worked incredibly hard putting down mulch pathways in our pink tent city so that after the first muddy day, there were relatively dry areas to walk. They also camped out, like the rest of us, in their own camping area. Yesterday, I talked about how tough "girls"are. Well, the crew was plenty tough, too. One "lucky guy" had the job of patrolling the stinky porta-potty area all night while everyone else slept. He was a kind of security to make sure that women were safe in camp. Talk about a tough job!

At the end, during the closing ceremony, the crew walked through a double line of us walkers as we cheered them. Thank you, 3-Day Crew, for a difficult job well done!

Fight Like a Girl!

"Fight Like a Girl!" many of the tee shirts along the 3-Day route said. When I was a lad, to be told you fight like a girl or run like a girl would have been an ultimate insult. But now, older and (perhaps) wiser, having seen how tough many "girls" are - and how well they run - I would take it as a complement. I think many of the women wearing these shirts were breast cancer survivors, and when you get in a fight with cancer, it does not care if you are male or female; black, white, or Asian; young or old; rich or poor. Cancer does not care in the least, and you will be in for the fight of your life. As tough as walking for three days is - and it is tough, trust me - it is nothing compared to a fight with cancer. So you'd better be able to fight like a girl.

So I rejoiced each time I saw this tee shirt, and for each survivor. It was inspirational. They proved how tough they were by surviving, by being out here walking, by giving back. By fighting like a girl.

I'm guessing that some of the women were not cancer survivors, but just liked the shirt, and that's OK too. Because they went through a lot to do this walk, not even counting the hundreds of miles of training that most of us did. I saw much suffering over the three days. The wet day Friday (September 23) raised hell with people's feet, causing many, many blisters. I saw people with tape all over their feet. I saw a woman on the third day walking in flip flops, carrying her running shoes! At each pit stop, there was a medical tent, and every one of them after the first few miles of the walk had lots of people getting treatment - most of them for blisters. Walking on bad blisters mile after mile is pretty painful, yet I saw people doing it over and over. Because of my own injury Friday night, I had plenty of opportunity on Saturday each time I iced my foot to study what people were having treated. It wasn't pretty. There are some tough people out there, women - and some men - that just kept on going, determined to finish.

I also saw some people that if you saw them, you would think that no way this person could walk even five miles. Maybe they were overweight or looked out of shape. Yet they walked nearly 60 miles, found a way to do it, found a way to take that next step over and over again until it was time to take the last step. It was amazing to see such toughness and determination. Because when you get to those last few miles, every moving part from the hips down to the toes hurts with every step. And I am going to guess if you are carrying an extra 30 or 40 pounds, then that pain is greatly magnified.

The one thing I did not see was any whining or complaining. People knew this would not be easy ahead of time, and they sucked it up. I hear a little complaining about nasty porta-potties, but not pain.

So guys, if you are ever tempted to insult someone by saying they fight like a girl or run like a girl, be advised. That girl may be tougher than you are.

The Last Walker

Each of the two nights in 3-Day camp, we had a pretty cool ceremony. At some point, usually around 6:30 or 7PM, an announcement would take place: "Attention everyone! The last walker is arriving!" Everyone, or at least many people, would get up and leave what they were doing and form a double row coming into the dining area. The last walker would walk through the people with music blaring and people cheering her. Then she would raise a banner, and everyone would give a final cheer and get back to dinner. Think about this - the last walker has been out there walking 11 or 12 hours! And Friday, it would have been that long walking in the rain. By the time she arrived, I'd had a shower, put on fresh clothing, relaxed a bit, and gotten something to eat. She was just getting into camp, nearly at dark, and still had all of these things to do.

So on Sunday, September 25, we got an announcement at the National Mall about 4:30: "Attention everybody! The last walker is arriving!" Everyone, thousands of people, walkers and spectators, got to their feet and started cheering her as she walked those last few hundred meters. It was pretty neat! We celebrated this person who, although slower than everyone else, never quit, never gave up, just kept on plugging away until she finished. And at the end, everyone cheered her and her persistence.

Cheering for Art

Donna, a woman from my wife's office, is a breast cancer survivor of several years, and has made a habit of going up to cheer for the end of the Komen race. When she learned that I would be in the walk, she made me a sign and was going to hold it for me. I was looking forward to seeing it. I finished the walk about 2PM, and didn't see the sign. I rested for a while and then walked back to the finish area to see if I could find Donna. Despite looking all over and waiting, I couldn't, so eventually I went back to the Mall to await the closing ceremony. No one had ever made a sign for me before, and I really wanted to see it. As it turns out, Donna had arrived about 3:30 and afterwards, walked all over holding the sign up and looking for me. Neither of us saw each other among the thousands of people there, and we were both disappointed. Later, Donna gave my wife the sign for me, pictured here. It was a very clever and artistic ign. Thank you so much, Donna! I so much appreciate you taking the time to make me a sign and to come up all the way to Washington to cheer for us participants, and to look for me.
As it turned out, Donna wasn't the only one there cheering for me. The US Government also put out two signs for me. Much appreciated, people of the United States of America!

Finishing the Komen 3-Day

I'd taken to walking the last few miles of the Susan G. Komen 3-Day for the Cure with three woman, all about my pace, all wearing shirts with pictures of their collective little girls, with "I'm Walking so They Won't Have To" written on their shirts. One of them ran the San Diego Marathon in 2007, the year after I was in that race for Team in Training, so we chatted about that. We passed some of the places pictured in my last post - Cafe Mozart and the White House - and then finally caught sight of the Washington Monument, which was near our final destination. Soon enough, we'd passed down along the Mall and made the final turn to see the finish gate:
I asked the three friends if they wanted a photo of them at the finish, which of course they did. After that, I passed through the finish gate and, and was overwhelmed by the noise of the people lined up on both sides cheering. It was very moving. The doctor who was the master of ceremonies was there - she is a breast cancer survivor and one of the most dynamic people I'd ever met. She cheered me and gave me a hug. Being there by myself, it felt good to have someone to celebrate with, if only for a second. Then, I got my 3-Day shirt and walked through a narrow area where I stopped for a few seconds. I looked down at the photo of Ann on my shirt and touched her face. "I did it, Ann. I did it, just the way I told you would." I was fighting back tears, and so badly wished I could call my sister and give her the news. But since I could not, I lined up to have a photo taken in front of the Day Three poster instead:
I went back around to the finish to look for someone who was supposed to be there to cheer for me - more about that later - and cheered for some of the finishers for a while.
Then I asked a man to take a picture of me with my new 3-Day shirt and the finish in the background.
After that, I wandered back around to the Mall to wait for the closing ceremony.

Day Three of the 3-Day: Inspiration!

It is always hard to believe that something you have worked so hard for is about to be over, and that was true on September 25 as I finished packing my gear, loaded it on the truck, and headed for the line to get on the bus that would take us about 15 minutes to start the final day of my quest. This would be the shortest day of walking at about 15 miles, but I am sure that everyone walking today was already tired. It would be a very inspirational and sometime emotional day. Inspirational because of the many conversations I would have today with breast cancer survivors - one as recently as four months ago, and now out walking nearly 60 miles. Emotional, because so many times, I wished that I could call my sister and tell her that I was on track to complete this walk. At times, I tried talking to her. I'd say "Ann, I told you five months ago that I would do this walk, and now, I am nearly finished. This is for you, with love."

As I waited for the bus, I asked a lady to snap a photo of me wearing the special shirt that I had had made for today.
While waiting in the bus line, everyone seemed happy that the earlier rain had stopped.
This banner was at the bus line. As I had lost my sister in May, so had my nephew lost his mom.
At the start of the walk, these two women were honoring a loved one in the US Marine Corps. Semper Fi!
There were a number of support vans that continually drove by us. This one had really cool decorations.
We were all moving along pretty good, happy to be here, happy to have a second dry day in a row.
Of all the sentaments and emotions of the three day, I think that nothing trumps love.
I had followed this woman and her lemur for many miles in the rain on the first day of the walk, and finally got a photo of them in dry weather. I told her to keep an eye on the lemur once we got near the zoo.
We had passed this same restaurant in Bethesda, Maryland yesterday on the second day of the walk, and I thought it looked beautiful. I would love to come back and try it another day.
I had conversations with many survivors during the three days - including several on the third day. But this lady was the most inspirational. 28 years ago, she had metastasized breast cancer in her bones, always lethal. She was pregnant, and doctors refused to treat her until she got an abortion. The lady to her right is her 28 year old daughter, so you can see that she refused to follow that advice. How amazing to survive something like that, and walk 60 miles with that daughter 28 years later as a survivor.
We saw this girl several times doing the hula-hoop to entertain us.
As we walked up a steep hill in Washington, this little girl in pink blew bubbles for us.
I am indicating that I am on my third day of this little adventure, one that I am honored to have.
Our lunch spot today was comfortable and dry, unlike the first day. Everyone was in a festive mood.
We had supporters showing their pink all over the place.I love going to the National Zoo, and would have enjoyed a little stop here, but still had miles to go at this point. Another time...
One of our many supporters along the way.
I love Mozart's music, and couldn't resist snapping a picture of a cafe named after him in a city that didn't even exist at the time of this musical genius's life.
Here I am just a mile or so from the finish near the White House. It would have been so cool to see the President. It was feeling more and more emotional with each step, realizing that I was close to fulfilling my promise to my sister.

Breaking Camp at the 3-Day

On September 25, I awoke at 4AM, having to take a pee. It was drizzling and I could hear the rain pattering on my little pink tent. I had slept through the night, very comfortably, and felt pretty good. My new compression socks had really helped with knocking out some of the soreness I had felt the evening before. My newly injured toes even felt less painful. I put on my running shoes, went out to the porta-potty, and quietly walked back to my tent.

Snug in my sleeping bag, renewed sleep would not come. I could hear the women all around starting to stir about 5AM, and about 5:30, I decided to get up. I walked the third of a mile in a light rain to the shower area, and used one of the outdoor sinks to shave and brush my teeth. A woman at the sink next to me was applying makeup in the rain, which seemed fruitless. I took my gear back to my tent, and went to breakfast. I had some great conversations at breakfast with several women about the walk and why we were doing this - really nice people, as were the folks I'd eaten dinner with the night before. It is tough to be totally by yourself at something like this. Most of the people, all but a handful, were there with a team. But I had found most people to be open and friendly.

After breakfast, I grabbed a couple of napkins and walked back to the sink area. There, I wet the napkins and used them to apply the temporary 3-Day tatoos I had bought at the Komen store last night. I wanted to do something a little special for this last day, the culmination of following through with what I told my sister Ann I would do in her honor - and now her memory. Now, it was time to pack up my stuff and strike the tent. I was not looking forward to packing a wet tent in the rain and somehow stuffing it back in the ridiculously small pink bag. But again, I lucked out. Several young women from a local college field hockey team had volunteered to take down and pack up the tents. I changed into my walking clothes for the day, including my special shirt with my sister's photo on it. I packed my duffle, and stepped outside. "Anyone need help packing their tent?" called out one of the college women. "Sure!" I said. I introduced myself and we shook hands. She peered at my shirt in the pre-dawn darkness. "Ah, your sister," she said. "Oh, and she died just a few months ago. I am so sorry. She's beautiful." I told her a few things about my sister, and could feel tears welling up. I thanked the two young women, and hoped that their field hockey team goes undefeated. I grabbed my duffle and started the walk towards the bus that would transport us to the starting point of the day's walk. What a huge help not having to pack up my tent!

I took my duffle to a truck for loading, and walked slowly to the line of people waiting to get on a bus. It was now about 6:40AM, still pretty dark, and I looked around fondly at the camp that had been my home for two nights, bustling with activity as people ate, packed, cleaned up, and worked (our hard-working and dedicated crew, that is). But it was time to move on, to complete my tribute to my sister using my feet and legs. It was time to complete the 3-Day!

The Remembrance Tent

At camp during the Susan G. Komen 3-Day for the Cure was a really moving feature: the Remembrance Tent. This was an area with white - not pink - tents set up to remember those who have passed on due to breast cancer.

Outside on a little knoll was a row of small white tents set up as a semicircle. Each tent represented a city that holds a 3-Day Walk: Boston, Seattle, Philadelphia, Phoenix, and so forth. On each tent is written messages to someone who participated in a 3-Day Walk in that city who has since died from breast cancer.

The Remembrance Tent itself was set up with its front facing the semi-circle of small white tents. This tent was much larger and did not have messages written on it.

Inside the Remembrance Tent was one last small white tent - the one dedicated to Washington, DC's walk. It, too, was covered in written messages. At the far end of the tent was a long table with several notebooks and pens, some flowers and little lamps, and a box of tissues. Four or five chairs were placed at the table. On all four walls of the tent were hung pictures of women who had participated in various walks who were now dead. I spent some time quietly looking at each picture. Then, I sat at the table and wrote a message to my sister Ann in one of the books, thinking of her last months and how much I wish things were different. I wondered if somehow the words that I wrote in the book were being relayed to her spirit. There is no way to know. After writing my note, I sat solemnly for a few moments, deep in thought. Then I stood up, took a tissue from the box, and quietly left the Remebrance Tent.