Well, my many months of training and anticipation are over
and the only things I’m left with are fond memories and tired, sore feet.
It actually all started Friday night when I jetted out of
work and met my dad, who drove like the devil was chasing us to the Hicksville
Train Station to make the 4:44 train. Without breaking too many laws, my dad
made the 35 mile trip in 40 minutes during rush hour traffic and I hopped out
of the car to find that the train was 15 minutes delayed. It was then that I
regretted not going to the bathroom beforehand. Well my train pulled into
Brooklyn and I took the subway the wrong way, and had to turn around and l went
a few stops out of the way, But I finally made it to the Marriott in Brooklyn
and met up with the rest of my team: Mom, Aunt Ellen, Aunt Ida, Iris and
Lucille. We checked in and headed out to
eat. We had a great Italian dinner and headed back to our hotel to rest.
We squeezed 6 of us into a hotel room suite with 2 beds and
a pull out couch. Iris and I, being the babies of the bunch got the couch.
Being silly and giddy and excited, we stayed up chatting but finally decided we
should get some rest since we'd be getting up at 5:30 AM . AS it turned out, I
had the worst night of sleep I've ever had in my entire life or so I thought. The couch was terribly uncomfortable and with
the hotel’s open floor plan we heard every sound imaginable. I didn't know how to get through the next day.
Off we went to South Street Seaport and thank God -there was
coffee!! We had our breakfast and began opening ceremonies. Just like 2 years ago, they showed us the connection
ribbon, a pink ribbon that's printed with “Every three minutes"
symbolizing the scary statistic that every three minutes another woman is
diagnosed with breast cancer. They gave out the first ribbon and said they'd
continue to give one out every three minutes for the duration of the weekend. I wondered if I’d get one. We then created a
connection by taking the hands of the people around us, the people who'd broke
the record for the most participants in an Avon walk - over 3,550 participants, and the most money
raised - over 9.7 million.
The first ten miles were a piece of cake. We walked past the
New York Stock Exchange, the World Trade Center site, Chelsea Piers, the
intrepid, and before we knew it, we were eating lunch. It was after that when
the pain set in. We only had three miles left, but my muscles had tightened
while I rested and we had some scary hills in front of us near the George
Washington Bridge. While I trained the
best I could before the walk, the most I had done at one time was 9 miles. I
was worried for me but also for the rest of my team who hadn't all even trained
as much as I had. What kept me going was the way the walk was organized. It seemed as though every two miles or so we
were stopping to stretch, fill up our water or grab a snack. And everywhere we looked someone was cheering
us on.
We made it to the end of the day’s walk and hopped on the
bus to take us back to the campsite. I got on first, sat down and my mom walked
over to me leaned down to kiss me, and with tears in her eyes said "l
can't believe I did it." I don't think she realized that the hardest part
was ahead of us. We had to do it all again the next day.
We got back to the campsite and immediately were taken care
of. I was handed water and a goodie
bag. I took a yoga class to stretch out.
I went to the massage tent and told the guy that my lowest disk is herniated
and torn and that I won't be offended if he tries to work out my butt cheek.
"Please, offend me" I told him. Well I think he was masochist,
because I like a firm hand, but he was torturing me and every time I said,
"Not so rough," I think he heard "Rough."
After my massage with Adolf Hitler, my second toe on my
right foot was killing me. I had no idea if I could do anything about it, but
since Iris was headed to the physical therapist for hip pain. I decided to stop
by the podiatry tent. Seeing people
bleeding, hobbling and covered with blisters, I felt a little stupid. But the
stupidity became worse when I found out that my toe pain was caused by my
toenail being too long. My diagnosis: clip the toenail. At home, I would have paid 80 bucks for that
diagnosis. How dumb did I feel!!!!!!!
Anyway, we got our gear and some tent angels helped us set
up the tent and we made ourselves at home for the night under the Tri-borough
Bridge. We went to dinner and I got 1,000
people to sing "Happy Birthday" to iris and we enjoyed the hostess
cupcakes that she didn't see me sneak in. We hit the port-a-potties and took showers on
a truck and hit the sheets, or, well, hit the sleeping bags.
I figured that since I hardly slept the night before, my
only saving grace was that I was completely exhausted. I was wrong. I fell
asleep almost immediately around 9:30. I wanted so badly to sleep through the
night. When I woke up and looked at my watch to see the time, it was 11:00.
That would end up being my longest stretch of sleep that entire night. I tossed
and turned and was so cold that Iris put on a Mylar blanket which crinkled every
time I moved and would come to be known as "the Burqer King Hamburger
wrapper." It did work however. As thin as paper, it keeps your body heat
trapped in. After a bathroom trip at 3:30, I was pretty much up and had no idea
how I could possibly make it through another day. It was the worst two nights of sleep I’ve ever
gotten, and it was the two nights where I needed sleep the most.
Well l did manage to get up, since I hadn't really gone to
sleep anyway, and outside my tent was a connection ribbon, it was placed
outside our tent during the night to symbolize another woman who was diagnosed
with breast cancer while we slept. After I got up, I realized that Lucille was wearing
one too. That means that out of the 6 of us, 2 of us were symbolically
diagnosed with breast cancer - 2 out of 6!
That's 1 out of 3! I put it on and wore it to raise awareness, but I won't lie
-it was a little creepy.
Having slept on the floor and being absolutely exhausted, I
could barely stand. My back was killing me. I went to the physical therapy tent
and found a therapist to stretch me out. I don't think I would have been able
to walk otherwise.
We headed to the starting line and were off. Day 2 was very scenic. We crossed bridges,
walked through parks and neighborhoods and ended up having lunch in a quaint
little park in Brooklyn overlooking the water between the Brooklyn Bridge and
the Manhattan Bridge. It was much harder to keep going, but by the time we
finished lunch we were only 3 miles from the finish line. Again, our saving grace
was that we were constantly being cheered on. Towards the end it seemed like every
block was a group of people thanking us, cheering us, and high-fiving us. We
made it over the Brooklyn Bridge and had only I mile to go to the finish line.
Finally, after what seemed like the longest mile on earth,
we could hear cheering up ahead and spotted pink pillars, pink signs and pink
balloons. We held hands and headed toward the noise. Fighting back the tears,
we met up with our families and said hello to our husbands who were holding
pink roses for us.
We had done it -26.2 miles in 2 days! Over $18.000 raised
amongst the 6 of us. More importantly, we made our personal goals to show our
commitment to this cause. We all cried in each other’s arms.
Maybe it was from the excitement; maybe it was from the
fulfillment we felt; maybe it was because we were exhausted or maybe it was all
of that. We had done what we set out to do and it made us feel like we could do
anything!
We marched in for the closing ceremony and it was as if for
the moment I felt every emotion possible. I smiled, cried, laughed, and
cheered. I was proud, yet humbled to walk with breast cancer survivors who
fought for their lives. We remembered our loved ones lost, and the last
connection ribbon was given out and our last three minutes together came to a
close.
I think back on my experience and pray that we're coming
closer to finding a cure. I think of my mom, and although breast cancer took
her breast, it didn't touch her soul. May she never again fight breast cancer.
And I think of my best friend who walked beside me and I pray that she will never
know breast cancer. And my aunts, friends, and mothers and daughters who I
walked with -may they never have to fight breast cancer. And I think of my
nieces sleeping in their cribs, and I smile because maybe one day, they’ll grow
up in a world without breast cancer.
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