I want to thank everyone who donated
towards this amazing foundation of finding a cure for breast cancer - Avon Breast Cancer Foundation. Every 3 minutes
someone is diagnosed with breast cancer. Every 13 minutes someone dies from breast cancer - that's nearly 41,000 a year.
During my 2-Day Breast Cancer
Walk this past July 12th - 13th, 2008 - I was unaware of exactly what I was walking in to. I knew I had to walk nearly
40 miles through San Francisco, sleep in a tent, shower in a truck, eat food with the masses, and become very familiar with
the port-o-potty.
But truly, these things didn't
bother me as much as the fear of setting up my own tent for the first time, by myself, among all these teams of people.
How was I going to find my tent? Where do I set it up? Will I have a tent-mate? Will the ground be completely
wet and soak my things? Do I really have to break down the tent the next morning after walking 26 miles the day before?
All of these questions regarding
the tent concerned me more than the actual mileage I needed to walk, the money I needed to raise, the first-aid kit I needed
to purchase, and the camping gear I checked off my list. These questions lay heavy on my mind because this was my first
Avon walk, my first camping experience, my first truck shower, and I was a team of one.
Then I drove into the city, parked
my car, and took my gear bag to the home-base hotel, got on line with the others, handed my gear to the driver, got on the
greyhound bus, sat in the back and looked out the dark window. It was pre-dawn and the mist was falling off the mountains
of San Francisco - maybe a pre-walk cleansing....
So we all arrived in Golden Gate
Park, found our gear, dragged it over to another truck, walked out into the dark, damp, open field of Golden Gate - another
first for me. There were tables set up with breakfast in a bag, coffee stations. I took some fruit bars, took
some pictures, and walked over to the huge stage set up in the distance. What would it be? What would take place
on that stage for us? So, I waited in the pre-dawn light in the mist, in the damp wetness of the pacific waiting for
the big moment.
Then the music played loudly on
huge outdoor concert speakers, the lights flashed hot pink, the mist stopped, the sky was lit a faint grey with left over
fog. I met a girl named Maria who was also walking alone - so we made friends. Before we knew it, the big moment
was here - the Avon spokesperson arrived to the microphone along with two other women who know all about breast cancer and
how it has changed their lives. We cried, laughed, and danced - 3800 people that morning through the dampness, mist,
and pre-dawn hours become a team of one.
I made it through that morning
and through lunch walking over the Golden Gate Bridge, Sausalito, and Mill Valley and back to home-base - Crissy Field.
The last 6 miles of the 26 miles I walked on the first day - almost took me out. My knees were swollen and hurting,
my hips felt like they needed a transplant, and my shins were about to fall off! But, as I stopped on my return trip
back over the Golden Gate Bridge at 5 in the evening towards the finish line of the first day, I looked out, cried from pain
and rememored what the theme of this walk is - cancer never rests. So – I walked baby steps the last mile down
the road to home-base. What a feeling it was - people cheering you on when they knew you are breaking inside- how could
you stop?
Honesty, I thought to myself,
"If I survive the night sleeping in a tent for the first time - then I'm finishing this walk!" I took my first truck
shower, ate a good meal, and went to my tent with hot chocolate. The next morning,
the sun came up clearer, the sun was warmer to us, and I felt pretty good. We
walked through the hills of San Francisco. It was a much more intense walk with
mountains of hills and inclines – but much like the twists and turns of cancer.
As I walked my last 15 miles,
I didn’t feel alone anymore. I took amazing photographs of private moments
of woman fighting for a cause, walking in memory, holding hands, drying tears, smiling, and waving pink pompoms in the air. When I reached the finish line, it was bitter sweet.
I didn’t have my family to run up to, but the enormous amount of energy the crowd had, the volunteers showed,
and strangers expressed through their spoken words of “Thank You!” made it all worth it. I cried, walked slowly to absorb it all and had someone take my picture under the words – Finish
Line.
The closing ceremony was without
a doubt – the most moving experience. It was human, it put a face to the
cause, and it recognized all who walked, crewed, volunteered, protected, and staffed this event. A weekend I will not forget!
When I drove home to San Ramon
in the late afternoon after the walk, my husband and two young children had blown up a dozen pink balloons and had pink roses,
pink champagne and a wonderful home-cooked meal to celebrate! It was the best
finish line cheer!
I
dedicate my walk these names below and all of those who cannot, but we have loved:
Mary Linman (Fighting)
Orfilia H. Espinal
Bonnie M. Crystal (Survivor)
Carole (Survivor)
Jack Shaffer
Inetta Saunders (Survivor)
Nancy
Jan Charrette (Survivor)
Nancy Levy and Dottie Guilbault
Julie Schmitz
Georgia Reynolds (Survivor)
