September 23, 2009
Sheila here…
Walking for nine hours a day for three days in a row gives one lots of time to think, even when one if surrounded by 2,300 other walkers (not to mention supporters cheering, drivers honking and merchants handing out goodies ranging from fruit shish-ka-bobs to breast-shaped sugar cookies).
I completed the Susan G. Komen Breast Cancer 3-Day walk Sept. 11-13 in Seattle with my two fantastic and energetic teammates, Carol LaMotte and Katherine Meenk – both friends from Oliver’s preschool. The experience was one I will likely never forget.
Seeing all these women (and a few men!) dressed in pink and ready to pound the pavement made me think about what they had all been through to be there. We gathered at Shoreline Community College for opening ceremonies before the sun came up. Large, pink paper lanterns with words like, “Courage” and “Hope” shone in the pre-dawn darkness.
At the very least, each and every one of these participants had put in considerable time and energy raising money for the event (we each had to earn at least $2,300 to participate) and had likely trained for months beforehand to be able to walk the 20 miles each day the course would require. I wondered what else the event meant to each participant. Why was each person was walking? Did their mother have breast cancer? A friend? A co-worker? A partner? Themselves?
After a moving opening ceremony, we left the grounds and began our walk. As we filed nearly single file down a trail, I realized just how many people were walking. The line of women seemed to go on forever. And every one of them was sacrificing a precious weekend to walk and walk and walk for one reason. To draw attention to breast cancer and hopefully find a cure.
Melissa and Katherine
Chris
Sheila here…
Walking for nine hours a day for three days in a row gives one lots of time to think, even when one if surrounded by 2,300 other walkers (not to mention supporters cheering, drivers honking and merchants handing out goodies ranging from fruit shish-ka-bobs to breast-shaped sugar cookies).
I completed the Susan G. Komen Breast Cancer 3-Day walk Sept. 11-13 in Seattle with my two fantastic and energetic teammates, Carol LaMotte and Katherine Meenk – both friends from Oliver’s preschool. The experience was one I will likely never forget.
Seeing all these women (and a few men!) dressed in pink and ready to pound the pavement made me think about what they had all been through to be there. We gathered at Shoreline Community College for opening ceremonies before the sun came up. Large, pink paper lanterns with words like, “Courage” and “Hope” shone in the pre-dawn darkness.
At the very least, each and every one of these participants had put in considerable time and energy raising money for the event (we each had to earn at least $2,300 to participate) and had likely trained for months beforehand to be able to walk the 20 miles each day the course would require. I wondered what else the event meant to each participant. Why was each person was walking? Did their mother have breast cancer? A friend? A co-worker? A partner? Themselves?
After a moving opening ceremony, we left the grounds and began our walk. As we filed nearly single file down a trail, I realized just how many people were walking. The line of women seemed to go on forever. And every one of them was sacrificing a precious weekend to walk and walk and walk for one reason. To draw attention to breast cancer and hopefully find a cure.
In front of us was a woman who was carrying an extra pair of shoes. Carol, Katherine and I noticed and wondered to each other why she would be carrying her spare pair with her – we had planned to change our shoes the following day, but they were in our overnight bags, which were being delivered to our campsite. Later I realized: this woman was carrying these shoes all 60 miles for someone who couldn’t – rather, didn’t – make it.
Over the next several hours it began to dawn on me the impact of this walk. The 2,200 participants had raised millions of dollars. That’s big stuff. But every car that drove by and saw the steady stream of pink suddenly thought about breast cancer. And maybe they told their wife or husband when they got home what they saw. And the neighbors along the route who handed out candy, made signs or simply stood and cheered thought about breast cancer too. And hopefully they told their kids why they were cheering and wearing pink and crying a little bit and saying “thank you” over and over and over. And maybe THAT’S what’s going to make the difference.
Some of my favorite moments along the 60 mile route weren’t the elaborate balloon arches, free cookies or cheerleaders with their customized cheers (“Shake your boobies! Shake, shake your boobies!”). While those certainly brought a smile to my face (and my tummy!) some of the most touching examples of generosity were very small and subtle. In Edmonds, we passed by a schoolyard filled with children who had run to the fence and poked their tiny arms through to give us all high fives.
Over the next several hours it began to dawn on me the impact of this walk. The 2,200 participants had raised millions of dollars. That’s big stuff. But every car that drove by and saw the steady stream of pink suddenly thought about breast cancer. And maybe they told their wife or husband when they got home what they saw. And the neighbors along the route who handed out candy, made signs or simply stood and cheered thought about breast cancer too. And hopefully they told their kids why they were cheering and wearing pink and crying a little bit and saying “thank you” over and over and over. And maybe THAT’S what’s going to make the difference.
Some of my favorite moments along the 60 mile route weren’t the elaborate balloon arches, free cookies or cheerleaders with their customized cheers (“Shake your boobies! Shake, shake your boobies!”). While those certainly brought a smile to my face (and my tummy!) some of the most touching examples of generosity were very small and subtle. In Edmonds, we passed by a schoolyard filled with children who had run to the fence and poked their tiny arms through to give us all high fives.
Elsewhere, people who probably didn’t have much money to spend on cookies, red vines or stickers instead pulled their hoses to the curb and sprayed down the hot and appreciative walkers.
Sometimes the neighbors weren’t out cheering, but they were supporting us all the same. Just knowing that people took the time to make signs gave me energy to keep on walking.
But what meant the most was the amazing support of all my family members and friends who donated money, sent cards, came out and cheered, or just kept me in their thoughts over the weekend. Here are a few of those who helped Team StompThis raise more than $15,000 to kick breast cancer!
Mom and Dad
Aunt Bev and Uncle Tony
Kendra
Carrie and Katie
Jason, Mia and Brian
Melissa and Katherine
Chris
Jason and Oliver
Elham and Sarah
Brenda
Pam
Leslie, Isaac and Maddie
Rebecca and August
...and Val, who came to the closing ceremonies but we didn't get a photo!
Oh yeah – and a little bit about radiation. I’m halfway through the six weeks and my last day is expected to be October 12. My skin is getting a little red and I am becoming tired, but it’s a piece of cake compared to chemo. I have also been working with my naturopath to create a healthy diet plan, and we have decided that I will avoid sugar for a month. It’s been almost two weeks and I have to say this is a lot harder than radiation by a long shot!
Oh yeah – and a little bit about radiation. I’m halfway through the six weeks and my last day is expected to be October 12. My skin is getting a little red and I am becoming tired, but it’s a piece of cake compared to chemo. I have also been working with my naturopath to create a healthy diet plan, and we have decided that I will avoid sugar for a month. It’s been almost two weeks and I have to say this is a lot harder than radiation by a long shot!
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