We even look drunk, right?
It's Wednesday and I am still walking with a limp.
Luckily, the positives I took from the Avon Walk experience will long outlast the physical aches and pains. What a weekend.
Friday afternoon, I headed down to the LBC to check in at Event Eve. That was my first glimpse at the scale and scope of the event. You've never seen so much pink. After that, wouldn't you know it, I had just enough time to go to Fingerprints before meeting Kory and Jen for a pasta dinner. Funny how that worked out, isn't it? Had a nice meal with the Burroughs followed by an ice cream cone from Rite-Aid (Lord, it sounded so much better when it was Thrifty's). The Lederers were very kind to let me crash in their spare room that night so I could get up at 4:30 instead of 3:30. If you've ever been in the room I'm referring to, you'll understand when I say it felt like sleeping in the Baseball Hall of Fame. Which was great.
Thanks to a 5:30 a.m. pickup by The Cruiser (who was PRECISELY on schedule, by the way--thanks, Kor), I arrived at the Queen Mary starting line right on time. My coworker and friend, Kate, found me instantly and I was quickly introduced to Stephanie and Jennifer, some friends of hers. The team was assembled. The opening ceremony was quite moving. This was my first Walk and even though breast cancer has touched my life in direct and indirect ways, this was the first time that the true purpose and weight of this cause hit home for me. Hearing the personal testimonies of the survivors, those still battling, and the loved ones of those that had fought hard but been lost, it was emotionally stirring, which is to say we were all bawling. Joining hands with perfect strangers in a pledge of solidarity, the ceremony really set the tone for the incredibly kind, generous, and compassionate spirit of the weekend.
And then we were off and walking! The course was really beautiful. Of course, I hail from Long Beach so I had home course advantage, but even I was impressed with the scenery of the route. We walked through the marina, through The Pike, down the beach, back through Naples, down to Seal Beach, up through the Seal Beach residential, back down PCH all the way up and over to the LB City College Area, through Heartwell Park, to the Eastern border neighborhood near Demille Middle School and into El Dorado Park where we would camp for the night. It took us about nine hours including a quick lunch stop and a long pause for Stephanie to get blister treatment. All day, I served as a tour guide, pointing out points of interest from my life growing up in the area. "There's where I went to dinner before my prom...There's the bench where I cried when so-and-so broke up with me...there's the El Dorado library, closed Mondays....There's where Kory foiled a robbery....etc, etc." I'm not sure anyone was still interested beyond mile 10 but that didn't stop me.
The most amazing part of it was the overwhelming support we received every step of the way. Literally all day long, for both days, cars were passing by honking and cheering. There were people that would drive along the route, stopping to dance or cheer and then quickly driving a few miles ahead to do it all over again throughout the entire course. Who are the wonderful, thoughful people who do this, devoting their entire weekend to clapping and encouraging us and motivating us to keep on chugging? Then there were the official volunteers working the rest stops and the Wellness Village camp, serving food, unloading gear, treating our wounds. I can still picture the Youth Crew volunteers, kids ranging from 12-16 who organizes the lines at the portapotties, holding the doors open for us and telling us to keep our arms and legs inside and "enjoy the ride." And the little kids in the homes we walked past yelling across streets to us, "Thank you for walking!" Our favorites might have been the Scooters For Hooters group, tough-looking bikers with their Harleys, serving as traffic control/crossing guards for us throughout the weekend. With their beards died pink and their music blasting, they, like all the other supporters and volunteers, always, without exception, had smiles on their faces and jokes to tell. I can't imagine what the walk would have been like without any of them.
As upbeat and positive as everyone was, there was a current of sadness running underneath it all. Many walkers had t-shirts with photos of loved ones they'd lost to breast cancer. Mothers, sisters, wives, and daughters. I began to recognize their faces on the t-shirts as if they were there walking with us, which, I presume, was the point. I regret that I didn't get to hear their stories or at least learn their names. Something tells me they'll be back next year.
When we finally caught sight of the Wellness Village at the end of 26.2 miles on Day One, I was running on fumes. I probably consumed 6000 calories in snacks and energy Gu, but my legs were begging for mercy. Of course, the superhuman women on my team were charging ahead like it was mile one. I've never been so thrilled to see an open lawn. As we entered the village, there was a red carpet with cheerleaders and supporters on either side yelling for us and high-fiving us as we came through. Breast cancer paparazzi, if you will. Once inside, I finally sat down on the cool grass. I made some phone calls before heading over to shower and change clothes. That shower, in a big trailer, was one of the most fulfilling and refreshing showers of my life. That night we dined on meatballs and pasta and watched the evening's entertainment, "Fireside Follies." It was like being at summer camp. Jennifer and I were so friggin' exhausted it was like we were drunk. I hit the sack around 9:30 but, between the snorers, my inability to find one good, lasting position, and all the caffeine I'd ingested in my energy Gu, I barely caught a wink. But I rested, which was key.
I rose at 6:30 a.m. Sunday morning to fresher legs. I packed my gear, struck the tent, had some breakfast and set out to bring it home on Day Two! We had been saying on Saturday that a measely 13.1 miles on Sunday would be cake. We'd be dancing that one, cruising it like it was a victory lap, we thought. We were wrong. 13.1 miles after 26.2 the day before is exactly like 26.2 miles after none the day before. By the halfway point, I was struggling. It's only half the distance, but mentally it was doubly taxing because I was thinking of it as the home stretch, not focusing on the five-plus hours it was still going to take. But we made it. We crossed that finish line with arms raised high in victory.
There was some debate on whether to stick around for the closing ceremonies because they weren't due to start for another hour and a half, but I am so glad that we decided to stay. Three groups entered the ceremony seperately, the walkers first on the outside, then the survivors walking right down the middle, then the volunteers behind them, with all our friends and family surrounding the whole thing. It was a really great way for each population to be recognized and give the personal appreciation for each other group. The closing ceremony was even more emotional than the opening. More tears, more cheers, more unity. I remember when I turned to go after it had ended, there was an older woman hugging a tall, young man with a pink mohawk. They were not letting go, her face buried in his chest. I could tell by the way she was shaking that she was sobbing. That's the image that I'll remember as puncuating a wonderful, enrichening weekend (much more so than the hour and forty-five minutes it took us to get out of the parking lot).
The Avon Walk for Breast Cancer Los Angeles brought out approximately 5,500 walkers (450 men--I saw about 10) to walk 39.2 miles over 2 days and raised over 4 million dollars to fight breast cancer.
For 2 days, we walked as 1.
