Sunday, June 06, 2004
I did it!
Miles: 40
Dollars raised: $3,950
Liters of water consumed: 5
Liters of Gatorade consumed: 5
Port-a-potties visited: 20
Blisters: 0
Sunburn: minor
Aches and pains: too many to list
Stories shared: too many to count
Connections made: 6
Total walkers: over 2,300
Total crew: 370
Total dollars raised by Chicago participants: approximately $6.3 million
Regrets: none
Reasons to do this again next year: millions
After getting about two and a half hours of sleep Friday night, Tessa and I showed up at 5:30 am to check in for the Avon Walk. There were already hundreds of people there and hundreds more would show up before the opening ceremony at 7:00 am. We had breakfast and danced to the music pumping out over the loudspeakers. While we were waiting for the ceremony to begin, we made our first friend of the weekend -- a woman who came all the way from Lansing, Michigan to walk in honor of her mother, sisters, and aunts, all in the hopes that her efforts will help keep her from getting breast cancer one day, and help create a world wherein her children will never have to hear the words, "You have cancer." The three of us together had great energy and started off the day with much laughter and enthusiasm.
We set out walking north along the lakefront and everyone commented on what a perfect day it was to be out walking. We passed hundreds of people running, riding bikes, playing volleyball, many of them cheering us along as they went. We sang songs and skipped and the miles flew by.
At about North avenue beach, we met Mary and I walked with her a while. She was walking in honor of herself -- a sixty-two year old woman who has just hit her one-year-survivor point. Her breast cancer is protein based -- the kind not many people die from, so there isn't much research or information about it. Nonetheless, she has been through chemo, was breating hard, and was walking a little slowly. The doctors tell her there is a 50% chance her cancer will come back within a year. She prefers to say that there is a 50% chance that it won't. Thank you, Mary, for sharing your story with me and for your wonderful spirit.
They had rest stops and quick stops set up for us about every two miles and each one had a different theme -- margaritaville, the fishing hole, the zoo, etc. There was food, water, Gatorade, medical services, and dozens of people stretching at every stop. And the crew! Each crew member was cheering for every walker, many of them dressed up in silly outfits to go along with the theme of the rest stop. And if you tried to thank them for their efforts (as many walkers did), they replied, "Thank you for walking." I couldn't help but think those of us walking had the easier deal. So thank you to the incredible crew!
And thank you to the men and women who helped us cross the streets, too. I don't know if they were actual Hell's Angels or some other motorcycle gang, but we had about twenty or so motorcyclists waiting for us at various intersections to make sure each and every walker made it across safely, and to check in and make sure those who needed help got it. My favorite was the man wearing a pink and blue striped hat with big elephant ears attached. He kept cheering on the smiling walkers, but seriously, how could you not smile when you saw him?
Our trio made it to the halfway point at Northeastern Illinois University at about 1:30. We were sore, but our spirits were flying. There was a band at that rest stop -- the Damn Hoovers -- and Tessa and I danced the Bojango (from Floss!) while they played for the walkers. For the rest of the weekend, we were known as "those girls who were dancing," and we were thanked many times for our enthusiastic spirit. All I can say is it was our pleasure.
The afternoon was a little tougher, but we kept on going. More rest stops, more wonderful crew members, more stories from fellow walkers. I was staggered by how many survivors walked. Sure, the crowd thinned out as people got into the sweep vans to be taken to the Wellness Village and as those who opted to do 13 miles each day instead of 26 were taken away to rest up, but still hundreds of women and men walked. And by 6:30, Tessa, our Michigan friend and I crossed into the Wellness Village, sore, tired, and 100% thrilled to be there. There's a real sense of accomplishment in walking 26.2 miles.
After dinner, a shower, and more dancing (with Tom Walsh), Tessa and I were in our tent passed out by 10:00pm. Thank you to the Boy Scouts who came out and put up tents for tired walkers! But someone please remind me to bring an air mattress when I do this next year -- sore hips sleeping on the ground don't heal as nicely as they should.
We woke up with the rest of the camp at about 5:00am. There was some general complaining about the lines for the sinks to brush our teeth, but for the most part, everyone was just excited to be up and walking for the second day. The woman in the tent across from ours was injured -- she twisted her knee or something -- and was told not to walk the second day. She had this look of disappointment or embarrassment as she said she wouldn't be walking, despite the fact she had already logged 26.2 miles. To that woman, I can only say, "Thank you. You did an amazing job and you made a difference in hundreds of lives."
By 7:30, we were back on the trail. Tessa and I both wrapped up our knees in Ace bandages to try to keep them from throbbing as we walked. The walkers were a little quieter this morning as a lot of people felt that today was the day to connect with one another, whereas yesterday was about logging miles. I can't even tell you how many people we talked to, or how many stories we heard. Team Maureen, consisting of twelve walkers, seventeen crew members, and four of the most devoted cheering section participants you've ever seen, all in honor of a deceased aunt/sister/daughter/mother. The two women walking for their deceased friend who passed away after a five year battle with breast cancer. She was diagnosed just two weeks after her son was born. The woman walking for her husband's mother and in the hopes that neither she nor her children will ever have to experience breast cancer first hand, unsure she could make it 13 miles. When I asked her if she would do it again next year, she replied, "Yes," before I could even finish the question. And her kids can't wait until next year so they can volunteer, too (they're too young to walk or they would join their mother). The woman huffing and puffing along, determined to make the 13 mile mark because she had only done 20 the day before. Joe, with his whistle, keeping everyone in high spirits, reminding us all why we were out there.
The day went faster, but was really tough as my body was fighting me the entire way. I lost Tessa and our Michigan friend at about the second rest stop, but decided to plod along at the best pace I could to keep the soreness away. I stretched at every rest stop and re-wrapped my knee a couple of times. Lunch left something to be desired, but I had enough snacks with me to keep going. And at about 1:00 pm, I heard the sweetest words than any walker can hear on a journey like this -- "You have 1.1 miles to go!"
With one half of a mile to go, walking along the lake near Buckingham Fountain, I saw Joe again, limping along, still in great spriits, still cheering on the other walkers. Joe, in turn, spotted a friend of his who just happened to have his bagpipe with him. The man joined Joe for the last half of a mile, playing his bagpipe the whole way. As if I didn't have enough energy and endorphins at that point, the bagpipe sent my spirit flying. My feet were burning, but I didn't care. My knee was telling me to stop, but I told it to shut up. I flew past the Aquarium and the Field Museum and then came the finish line.
Every walker who finished before me, every crew memeber, hundreds of friends and family lined the sidewalk for the last two blocks to cheer on the walkers and welcome everyone back to Soldier Field. They had pom poms and cameras and words of encouragement for each person who passed by. I skipped and danced my way through the tunnel of people, giving high fives on both sides, half laughing, half crying. I couldn't believe I made it. I walked every last inch of the 39.3 miles. And as I flew into camp, Moby was blasting over the loudspeakers. Two songs later was "Extraordinary" by Liz Phair. What a perfect end to the perfect weekend!
So I went back to find my friends. I had the energy, so why not, right? I found our Michigan friend in tears as she was beginning the finishing line tunnel. We hugged and laughed and cried and I walked her down the path into camp. She was so happy to be finished and so proud of her accomplishment as she found her mother. Thank you, our Michigan friend, for sharing your weekend with us. I feel so privileged that I got to walk you across the finishing line, and so honored that I got to participate in your life. Thank you for saying hello to us on Saturday morning, and for your enthusiasm. You are amazing.
And then I went to find Tessa. I walked back along the route for probably a half a mile, cheering on my fellow walkers the whole way. They looked tired and defeated, but completely determined to finish. And as I passed each of them, we would smile at one another, knowing we had done something really amazing, knowing we were all in this fight together.
I found Tessa, limping along with our friend Devon who came out to see us finish. She was sore and walking slow, but so enthusiastic! She really amazed me the whole weekend with her determination and spirit. She asked what I was doing and I told her I had to come back and find her so we could dance again at the finish line. We laughed and sang and danced (as best as we could) for that last half of a mile until we got to walk (once again for me) triumphantly across the finish line. Tessa's sisters were there waiting for her and taking pictures. There were hugs and high fives and cheering all around. And then straight to the medical tent for Tessa to find her mother -- one of the medical staff.
And for me, the weekend ended there. With my friend Devon and thousands of fellow walkers at the finish line. I called my mom to come pick me up and found my luggage. I didn't need to go to the closing ceremony; I needed to go home. I danced the Bojango one more time -- 39.3 and still dancing! -- jumped into my car and headed home.
I am changed because of this walk. Like my mom said, it is incredibly powerful to see thousands of people all pushing themselves to their absolute limits all because we believe in the same thing. It is moving and humbling to know that you are taking part in something that is so much bigger than yourself. It is an honor to know that you are making a difference in the lives of so many people.
I thank you guys for your support in this. You were all with me the whole way. When things were getting tough, I would think of you, and of the names you gave me to write on my t-shirt, and I knew I couldn't let you down. You helped me find energy I didn't know I had and you helped me get through the every last inch of the course. And thanks to you guys, for every mile I walked, we are $100 closer to finding a cure for breast cancer. We are $100 closer to a world wherein noone will have to hear, "You have breast cancer," wherein no five year old boy will only know his mother when she was sick, wherein mastectomies are no longer necessary. You guys were my inspiration and my own personal angels. Thank you for every kind word. Thank you for every donation. Thank you for all of your stories that you shared with me. Thank you to those who came out to cheer me on. I can't thank you enough, though I am sure I will keep trying to over the coming weeks. Thank you.
And I can't wait to do the whole thing again next year!
Miles: 40
Dollars raised: $3,950
Liters of water consumed: 5
Liters of Gatorade consumed: 5
Port-a-potties visited: 20
Blisters: 0
Sunburn: minor
Aches and pains: too many to list
Stories shared: too many to count
Connections made: 6
Total walkers: over 2,300
Total crew: 370
Total dollars raised by Chicago participants: approximately $6.3 million
Regrets: none
Reasons to do this again next year: millions
After getting about two and a half hours of sleep Friday night, Tessa and I showed up at 5:30 am to check in for the Avon Walk. There were already hundreds of people there and hundreds more would show up before the opening ceremony at 7:00 am. We had breakfast and danced to the music pumping out over the loudspeakers. While we were waiting for the ceremony to begin, we made our first friend of the weekend -- a woman who came all the way from Lansing, Michigan to walk in honor of her mother, sisters, and aunts, all in the hopes that her efforts will help keep her from getting breast cancer one day, and help create a world wherein her children will never have to hear the words, "You have cancer." The three of us together had great energy and started off the day with much laughter and enthusiasm.
We set out walking north along the lakefront and everyone commented on what a perfect day it was to be out walking. We passed hundreds of people running, riding bikes, playing volleyball, many of them cheering us along as they went. We sang songs and skipped and the miles flew by.
At about North avenue beach, we met Mary and I walked with her a while. She was walking in honor of herself -- a sixty-two year old woman who has just hit her one-year-survivor point. Her breast cancer is protein based -- the kind not many people die from, so there isn't much research or information about it. Nonetheless, she has been through chemo, was breating hard, and was walking a little slowly. The doctors tell her there is a 50% chance her cancer will come back within a year. She prefers to say that there is a 50% chance that it won't. Thank you, Mary, for sharing your story with me and for your wonderful spirit.
They had rest stops and quick stops set up for us about every two miles and each one had a different theme -- margaritaville, the fishing hole, the zoo, etc. There was food, water, Gatorade, medical services, and dozens of people stretching at every stop. And the crew! Each crew member was cheering for every walker, many of them dressed up in silly outfits to go along with the theme of the rest stop. And if you tried to thank them for their efforts (as many walkers did), they replied, "Thank you for walking." I couldn't help but think those of us walking had the easier deal. So thank you to the incredible crew!
And thank you to the men and women who helped us cross the streets, too. I don't know if they were actual Hell's Angels or some other motorcycle gang, but we had about twenty or so motorcyclists waiting for us at various intersections to make sure each and every walker made it across safely, and to check in and make sure those who needed help got it. My favorite was the man wearing a pink and blue striped hat with big elephant ears attached. He kept cheering on the smiling walkers, but seriously, how could you not smile when you saw him?
Our trio made it to the halfway point at Northeastern Illinois University at about 1:30. We were sore, but our spirits were flying. There was a band at that rest stop -- the Damn Hoovers -- and Tessa and I danced the Bojango (from Floss!) while they played for the walkers. For the rest of the weekend, we were known as "those girls who were dancing," and we were thanked many times for our enthusiastic spirit. All I can say is it was our pleasure.
The afternoon was a little tougher, but we kept on going. More rest stops, more wonderful crew members, more stories from fellow walkers. I was staggered by how many survivors walked. Sure, the crowd thinned out as people got into the sweep vans to be taken to the Wellness Village and as those who opted to do 13 miles each day instead of 26 were taken away to rest up, but still hundreds of women and men walked. And by 6:30, Tessa, our Michigan friend and I crossed into the Wellness Village, sore, tired, and 100% thrilled to be there. There's a real sense of accomplishment in walking 26.2 miles.
After dinner, a shower, and more dancing (with Tom Walsh), Tessa and I were in our tent passed out by 10:00pm. Thank you to the Boy Scouts who came out and put up tents for tired walkers! But someone please remind me to bring an air mattress when I do this next year -- sore hips sleeping on the ground don't heal as nicely as they should.
We woke up with the rest of the camp at about 5:00am. There was some general complaining about the lines for the sinks to brush our teeth, but for the most part, everyone was just excited to be up and walking for the second day. The woman in the tent across from ours was injured -- she twisted her knee or something -- and was told not to walk the second day. She had this look of disappointment or embarrassment as she said she wouldn't be walking, despite the fact she had already logged 26.2 miles. To that woman, I can only say, "Thank you. You did an amazing job and you made a difference in hundreds of lives."
By 7:30, we were back on the trail. Tessa and I both wrapped up our knees in Ace bandages to try to keep them from throbbing as we walked. The walkers were a little quieter this morning as a lot of people felt that today was the day to connect with one another, whereas yesterday was about logging miles. I can't even tell you how many people we talked to, or how many stories we heard. Team Maureen, consisting of twelve walkers, seventeen crew members, and four of the most devoted cheering section participants you've ever seen, all in honor of a deceased aunt/sister/daughter/mother. The two women walking for their deceased friend who passed away after a five year battle with breast cancer. She was diagnosed just two weeks after her son was born. The woman walking for her husband's mother and in the hopes that neither she nor her children will ever have to experience breast cancer first hand, unsure she could make it 13 miles. When I asked her if she would do it again next year, she replied, "Yes," before I could even finish the question. And her kids can't wait until next year so they can volunteer, too (they're too young to walk or they would join their mother). The woman huffing and puffing along, determined to make the 13 mile mark because she had only done 20 the day before. Joe, with his whistle, keeping everyone in high spirits, reminding us all why we were out there.
The day went faster, but was really tough as my body was fighting me the entire way. I lost Tessa and our Michigan friend at about the second rest stop, but decided to plod along at the best pace I could to keep the soreness away. I stretched at every rest stop and re-wrapped my knee a couple of times. Lunch left something to be desired, but I had enough snacks with me to keep going. And at about 1:00 pm, I heard the sweetest words than any walker can hear on a journey like this -- "You have 1.1 miles to go!"
With one half of a mile to go, walking along the lake near Buckingham Fountain, I saw Joe again, limping along, still in great spriits, still cheering on the other walkers. Joe, in turn, spotted a friend of his who just happened to have his bagpipe with him. The man joined Joe for the last half of a mile, playing his bagpipe the whole way. As if I didn't have enough energy and endorphins at that point, the bagpipe sent my spirit flying. My feet were burning, but I didn't care. My knee was telling me to stop, but I told it to shut up. I flew past the Aquarium and the Field Museum and then came the finish line.
Every walker who finished before me, every crew memeber, hundreds of friends and family lined the sidewalk for the last two blocks to cheer on the walkers and welcome everyone back to Soldier Field. They had pom poms and cameras and words of encouragement for each person who passed by. I skipped and danced my way through the tunnel of people, giving high fives on both sides, half laughing, half crying. I couldn't believe I made it. I walked every last inch of the 39.3 miles. And as I flew into camp, Moby was blasting over the loudspeakers. Two songs later was "Extraordinary" by Liz Phair. What a perfect end to the perfect weekend!
So I went back to find my friends. I had the energy, so why not, right? I found our Michigan friend in tears as she was beginning the finishing line tunnel. We hugged and laughed and cried and I walked her down the path into camp. She was so happy to be finished and so proud of her accomplishment as she found her mother. Thank you, our Michigan friend, for sharing your weekend with us. I feel so privileged that I got to walk you across the finishing line, and so honored that I got to participate in your life. Thank you for saying hello to us on Saturday morning, and for your enthusiasm. You are amazing.
And then I went to find Tessa. I walked back along the route for probably a half a mile, cheering on my fellow walkers the whole way. They looked tired and defeated, but completely determined to finish. And as I passed each of them, we would smile at one another, knowing we had done something really amazing, knowing we were all in this fight together.
I found Tessa, limping along with our friend Devon who came out to see us finish. She was sore and walking slow, but so enthusiastic! She really amazed me the whole weekend with her determination and spirit. She asked what I was doing and I told her I had to come back and find her so we could dance again at the finish line. We laughed and sang and danced (as best as we could) for that last half of a mile until we got to walk (once again for me) triumphantly across the finish line. Tessa's sisters were there waiting for her and taking pictures. There were hugs and high fives and cheering all around. And then straight to the medical tent for Tessa to find her mother -- one of the medical staff.
And for me, the weekend ended there. With my friend Devon and thousands of fellow walkers at the finish line. I called my mom to come pick me up and found my luggage. I didn't need to go to the closing ceremony; I needed to go home. I danced the Bojango one more time -- 39.3 and still dancing! -- jumped into my car and headed home.
I am changed because of this walk. Like my mom said, it is incredibly powerful to see thousands of people all pushing themselves to their absolute limits all because we believe in the same thing. It is moving and humbling to know that you are taking part in something that is so much bigger than yourself. It is an honor to know that you are making a difference in the lives of so many people.
I thank you guys for your support in this. You were all with me the whole way. When things were getting tough, I would think of you, and of the names you gave me to write on my t-shirt, and I knew I couldn't let you down. You helped me find energy I didn't know I had and you helped me get through the every last inch of the course. And thanks to you guys, for every mile I walked, we are $100 closer to finding a cure for breast cancer. We are $100 closer to a world wherein noone will have to hear, "You have breast cancer," wherein no five year old boy will only know his mother when she was sick, wherein mastectomies are no longer necessary. You guys were my inspiration and my own personal angels. Thank you for every kind word. Thank you for every donation. Thank you for all of your stories that you shared with me. Thank you to those who came out to cheer me on. I can't thank you enough, though I am sure I will keep trying to over the coming weeks. Thank you.
And I can't wait to do the whole thing again next year!
Friday, June 04, 2004
You know what? Even the worst possible things that could happen over the weekend are not the end of the world. All will be good.
Thank you guys for your love and support and enthusiasm. I'll see you in forty miles!
Thank you guys for your love and support and enthusiasm. I'll see you in forty miles!
I went and checked in today. It's really going to happen!
I'm nervous. To the point of being terrified, though I'm not exactly sure what I'm afraid of. That I'll let myself down by not being able to walk the whole way. That I'll let other people down by not being able to walk the whole way. That I'll turn into an emotional mess doing this. I know all of you are so wonderful and supportive; you won't be let down if I don't walk the whole 39.3 miles. But I've been putting names on my shirt all day, a lot of them belong to women who are no longer with us and I don't want to let them down. I don't want to let their memory down. They fought long and hard, and the women on my shirt who are survivors are still fighting every day to beat this. How much of a wus am I if I can't walk 39 miles?
It's all silly self doubt, I know. I get this way sometimes. I know this will be an amazing weekend. I know I will do everything I set out to do. I already surpassed my expectations by raising $3,950 for this. Fifty bucks short of $4,000. I didn't think I'd be able to get the minimum and I doubled it. More than doubled it. I just...I dunno. I wish I could have done more. I want to do more. I just hope I make it through this weekend so maybe I can do more next year.
Honestly, though, thank you to all of you. If it wasn't for your words of encouragement and your love and your support, I probably would have found some excuse to fink out a long time ago. You have kept me going through this whole thing and for that, I love each and every one of you. Thank you. We're making a difference. Now.
I'm nervous. To the point of being terrified, though I'm not exactly sure what I'm afraid of. That I'll let myself down by not being able to walk the whole way. That I'll let other people down by not being able to walk the whole way. That I'll turn into an emotional mess doing this. I know all of you are so wonderful and supportive; you won't be let down if I don't walk the whole 39.3 miles. But I've been putting names on my shirt all day, a lot of them belong to women who are no longer with us and I don't want to let them down. I don't want to let their memory down. They fought long and hard, and the women on my shirt who are survivors are still fighting every day to beat this. How much of a wus am I if I can't walk 39 miles?
It's all silly self doubt, I know. I get this way sometimes. I know this will be an amazing weekend. I know I will do everything I set out to do. I already surpassed my expectations by raising $3,950 for this. Fifty bucks short of $4,000. I didn't think I'd be able to get the minimum and I doubled it. More than doubled it. I just...I dunno. I wish I could have done more. I want to do more. I just hope I make it through this weekend so maybe I can do more next year.
Honestly, though, thank you to all of you. If it wasn't for your words of encouragement and your love and your support, I probably would have found some excuse to fink out a long time ago. You have kept me going through this whole thing and for that, I love each and every one of you. Thank you. We're making a difference. Now.
Thursday, June 03, 2004
Two days away and I'm getting really nervous. I've never done anything like this before in my life, so I don't know what to expect. I have no doubt that I can do it. And like all of you keep telling me, I have cheering sections all over the country who will be rooting for me in their own ways as I walk this weekend. I know I'm going to cry. I know I'm going to laugh. I know I am going to walk away from this with an unbelieveable amount of faith in human nature. And I know I'm going to get tired and sore and cranky. I'm pretty sure I'm going to forget something and under normal circumstances, I'd say no biggie, but when I'm tired and sore and cranky, having to "make due" makes me more tired and sore and cranky.
But I can do this. You guys know I can do this. I know I can do it. And with your help, I have raised over $3700 to help in the fight against breast cancer. Thirty-seven hundred dollars. I don't know if you can fathom how much that helps -- I know I can't. But we're making a difference, right now, in the lives of countless women and men who wouldn't be able to get help otherwise. I'm scared and nervous and excited about this weekend because I know it will be a defining moment in my life. Thank you guys for giving that to me. You will all be with me on the walk and I'll have lots of stories to share when it is over.
Thank you!
But I can do this. You guys know I can do this. I know I can do it. And with your help, I have raised over $3700 to help in the fight against breast cancer. Thirty-seven hundred dollars. I don't know if you can fathom how much that helps -- I know I can't. But we're making a difference, right now, in the lives of countless women and men who wouldn't be able to get help otherwise. I'm scared and nervous and excited about this weekend because I know it will be a defining moment in my life. Thank you guys for giving that to me. You will all be with me on the walk and I'll have lots of stories to share when it is over.
Thank you!
Tuesday, June 01, 2004
Four days to go!
I'm getting really excited and really nervous about this weekend. Will I pass out from exhaustion? Will I get sunburnt? Will I finish the course in time? Will I get some funky disease from the communal showers or some random bug that decides to make a home out of my sleeping bag as we camp out over night? How disappointed in myself will I be if I don't make it the full 39.3 miles? Are we really going to be walking right past the Chicago Diner so I could pop in and get a muffin and some soymilk?
I know it will be great. I know I will cry a lot. I know after the first mile, I won't care that my t-shirt doesn't really go with my green corduroy pants. I know I am going to walk away from this event with a love for humans in general, feeling like I was a part of something bigger than me, and that somehow, this one seemingly insignificant person made a difference in the fight against breast cancer. I know I will meet wonderful people. I know I will get to know my friend who I am walking with even better. I know it is going to be amazing.
And the donations keep coming in. I will pass the $3,500 mark by the time I walk. I can't believe it. You guys really amaze me, you know that? Thank you. Thank you for your love and support and enthusiasm and encouragment. You guys are my personal angles and I can't thank you enough.
And then the question becomes, if I'm ready to do this again next year, are you?
I'm getting really excited and really nervous about this weekend. Will I pass out from exhaustion? Will I get sunburnt? Will I finish the course in time? Will I get some funky disease from the communal showers or some random bug that decides to make a home out of my sleeping bag as we camp out over night? How disappointed in myself will I be if I don't make it the full 39.3 miles? Are we really going to be walking right past the Chicago Diner so I could pop in and get a muffin and some soymilk?
I know it will be great. I know I will cry a lot. I know after the first mile, I won't care that my t-shirt doesn't really go with my green corduroy pants. I know I am going to walk away from this event with a love for humans in general, feeling like I was a part of something bigger than me, and that somehow, this one seemingly insignificant person made a difference in the fight against breast cancer. I know I will meet wonderful people. I know I will get to know my friend who I am walking with even better. I know it is going to be amazing.
And the donations keep coming in. I will pass the $3,500 mark by the time I walk. I can't believe it. You guys really amaze me, you know that? Thank you. Thank you for your love and support and enthusiasm and encouragment. You guys are my personal angles and I can't thank you enough.
And then the question becomes, if I'm ready to do this again next year, are you?
