Sunday, June 05, 2005
Good morning!
The weekend started off for me on Friday afternoon when I went to check in for the Walk at the Hyatt downtown. There is something about being in a room full of that many people, who all want to change something that is wrong with the world – in this case, breast cancer. There were dozens of people, men and women, with the names of loved ones on their t-shirts. There was a woman asking the people standing in line if they needed any more donations to meet their minimum requirement, holding up a blank check. Just being there was almost more than I could take. On my way out, I stopped to look at some pink ribbon jewelry that a woman makes to raise money year-round. I didn’t buy any of it, but the woman said to me, “Together, we can beat this.” I hugged her, agreed, and the tears started flowing. I sobbed in my car the whole way home.
I thought a lot about how selfish it was of me to want to shoot the film on Sunday, and about how selfish it was of me to want to be there for the second day of the Walk. I thought about everything I was going to miss out on the second day – the rest stops, the conversations, the amazing thrill of skipping across the finish line. I realized that the Walk is something bigger than me, and that is why I wanted to do it in the first place. We spend so much of our lives focusing on what is immediately in front of us; here is my chance to look at the world as a whole, and to make a little dent in it. I decided that I was going to skip the film and do both days of the walk.
Saturday morning, I woke up earlier than any human being should have to wake up on a Saturday morning. I packed my backpack, loaded up with water and snacks and spare clothes in case I needed them, and my mom and aunt picked me up to take me to Soldier Field – thank you, guys! I had some breakfast when I got there, did some serious stretching, and before I knew it, it was time for the opening ceremony. The woman on my right was walking for the fourth time, in the hopes that her daughters will never know the horrors of breast cancer. The woman on my left was celebrating one year cancer free. I hugged them both and we all set out to conquer the first day.
The path was in many ways longer this year, but in many ways, shorter, too. I found myself clipping along with the front of the pack at about four miles per hour. I hit the six-mile mark without even realizing it. My breaks at the rest stops and quick stops were quick and efficient – replenish the liquids as needed, visit the port-o-johns, stretch, keep moving. By lunchtime, I was a little sore, but feeling good and about an hour and a half ahead of my pace from last year.
The afternoon was long, though. I missed my friends from last year. Yes, I made new friends and had lots of people to talk to this year, but it wasn’t the same. I missed our calling out “lateral!” when we would pass other groups. I missed singing “Put your hands up in the air!” when we would raise our swollen hands to try to get the blood to flow back out of our fingers. But every time I found myself missing them, I would look at the names on my shirt and remember all of the love and support you guys gave me to take with me on the Walk, and I would smile and keep going.
Also, by the halfway point, I was starting to hurt pretty badly. My left hip was really tight and no matter what stretch or combination of stretches I did at each stop, it didn’t want to loosen up. Fortunately, my mom met me at the halfway point and massaged my hip for a bit, and then even walked about a mile and a half with me after that, so I felt much better, both physically and spiritually.
At rest stop E, I received a great honor. Every three minutes during the Walk, the staff and crew hand out pink ribbons to a walker selected at random that say, “Every Three Minutes” on them. These ribbons symbolize the people who are diagnosed with breast cancer as we are walking. They are given out at random because breast cancer strikes at random. They are even given out during the night because breast cancer does not sleep. At rest stop E, I was selected to wear one of these ribbons and I wore it with pride for the rest of the walk, remembering the people hearing for the first time, “You have cancer.”
Shortly after rest stop E, the winds picked up and it got downright cold outside. It was sort of a welcome change, considering the afternoon had gotten uncomfortably hot and muggy. Nonetheless, we were worried it might start to rain, so I pulled out my poncho and got it on with the help of one woman who I walked with for a bit. I was just in time as it turns out, because it very suddenly started hailing very hard. The hailstones weren’t very big, maybe pea-sized if that, but it did, in fact, hail on us. The hail turned into big, old, fat rain, as Forrest Gump calls it, and while our backpacks and heads stayed dry, our feet, shoes and socks were soaked. Fortunately, the rain didn’t continue for very long and at the next quick stop, I was able to change into dry socks. The cool air and the rain rejuvenated me somehow and for a little while, I forgot about how badly my left leg was hurting. But I was pretty sure I had a blister on my left foot from walking in squishy socks for three miles. At rest stop F, I subjected the medical staff to looking at/touching my pruney feet, was given some moleskin to cushion the forming blister (which was too small to actually lance at that point), and set off to finish the last mile and a half of the walk!
I remembered this stretch of the walk from last year – through residential neighborhoods, kids outside playing, telling us how much farther we had to go, my friend meeting us and walking us into the Wellness Village. I was very much relieved to find another woman walking into the Village at the same time and pace as me, or I would have missed my friends too much. She also helped keep me going even though my left leg was now threatening succession from my body, so I thank her for that. At approximately 5:15pm, we entered the Wellness Village, greeted by dozens of walkers and crew members, cheering us on. What a relief!
I checked out of the Village and a friend of mine picked me up and brought me home – thank you to him, too! It hurt to sit down in his car. It hurt to walk up the stairs to my apartment. It hurt to lie down and stretch once I got here. I remember being stiff and sore last year, but I don’t know what I did or didn’t do differently this year to hurt so badly. I made what I think was a very wise decision to not do the second day of the walk, nor the film. I fell asleep at about eight o’clock and woke up every time I went to turn over and my left leg said, “I don’t think so.” I did get some rest, and woke up with my cat by my side, looking out for my health.
I don’t think any serious damage was done to my leg. I’m sure I’ll be fine with rest and stretching. But I feel like I really put in a good effort this year. I walked through rain, hail, and scorching sun. I cried I don’t know how many tears. I hugged a half a dozen strangers, drank four liters of water, and three of Gatorade. I used probably twenty port-o-johns and walked 26.2 miles (limping badly for the last four miles) so that someday, people will no longer have to hear “You have breast cancer.” With your last minute donations, we raised $2,900 so that people who are diagnosed but don’t have insurance or a health care provider can get the help they need. We made a difference this weekend. We did something that is bigger than any one of us. There were over 2400 walkers this year who so far raised over $5.6 million, and the donations are still coming in.
I thank you for being with me on the walk. I thank you for your love and support and encouragement. I thank my mom for walking with me, and Amy for the phone calls/text messages of encouragement along the way. I will wear my beaten up leg as a badge of honor, a sign of all of the hard work you guys have put in over the past months.
We made a difference this weekend. Thank you. And I’ll see you all next year!!
Much love,
Kitty
The weekend started off for me on Friday afternoon when I went to check in for the Walk at the Hyatt downtown. There is something about being in a room full of that many people, who all want to change something that is wrong with the world – in this case, breast cancer. There were dozens of people, men and women, with the names of loved ones on their t-shirts. There was a woman asking the people standing in line if they needed any more donations to meet their minimum requirement, holding up a blank check. Just being there was almost more than I could take. On my way out, I stopped to look at some pink ribbon jewelry that a woman makes to raise money year-round. I didn’t buy any of it, but the woman said to me, “Together, we can beat this.” I hugged her, agreed, and the tears started flowing. I sobbed in my car the whole way home.
I thought a lot about how selfish it was of me to want to shoot the film on Sunday, and about how selfish it was of me to want to be there for the second day of the Walk. I thought about everything I was going to miss out on the second day – the rest stops, the conversations, the amazing thrill of skipping across the finish line. I realized that the Walk is something bigger than me, and that is why I wanted to do it in the first place. We spend so much of our lives focusing on what is immediately in front of us; here is my chance to look at the world as a whole, and to make a little dent in it. I decided that I was going to skip the film and do both days of the walk.
Saturday morning, I woke up earlier than any human being should have to wake up on a Saturday morning. I packed my backpack, loaded up with water and snacks and spare clothes in case I needed them, and my mom and aunt picked me up to take me to Soldier Field – thank you, guys! I had some breakfast when I got there, did some serious stretching, and before I knew it, it was time for the opening ceremony. The woman on my right was walking for the fourth time, in the hopes that her daughters will never know the horrors of breast cancer. The woman on my left was celebrating one year cancer free. I hugged them both and we all set out to conquer the first day.
The path was in many ways longer this year, but in many ways, shorter, too. I found myself clipping along with the front of the pack at about four miles per hour. I hit the six-mile mark without even realizing it. My breaks at the rest stops and quick stops were quick and efficient – replenish the liquids as needed, visit the port-o-johns, stretch, keep moving. By lunchtime, I was a little sore, but feeling good and about an hour and a half ahead of my pace from last year.
The afternoon was long, though. I missed my friends from last year. Yes, I made new friends and had lots of people to talk to this year, but it wasn’t the same. I missed our calling out “lateral!” when we would pass other groups. I missed singing “Put your hands up in the air!” when we would raise our swollen hands to try to get the blood to flow back out of our fingers. But every time I found myself missing them, I would look at the names on my shirt and remember all of the love and support you guys gave me to take with me on the Walk, and I would smile and keep going.
Also, by the halfway point, I was starting to hurt pretty badly. My left hip was really tight and no matter what stretch or combination of stretches I did at each stop, it didn’t want to loosen up. Fortunately, my mom met me at the halfway point and massaged my hip for a bit, and then even walked about a mile and a half with me after that, so I felt much better, both physically and spiritually.
At rest stop E, I received a great honor. Every three minutes during the Walk, the staff and crew hand out pink ribbons to a walker selected at random that say, “Every Three Minutes” on them. These ribbons symbolize the people who are diagnosed with breast cancer as we are walking. They are given out at random because breast cancer strikes at random. They are even given out during the night because breast cancer does not sleep. At rest stop E, I was selected to wear one of these ribbons and I wore it with pride for the rest of the walk, remembering the people hearing for the first time, “You have cancer.”
Shortly after rest stop E, the winds picked up and it got downright cold outside. It was sort of a welcome change, considering the afternoon had gotten uncomfortably hot and muggy. Nonetheless, we were worried it might start to rain, so I pulled out my poncho and got it on with the help of one woman who I walked with for a bit. I was just in time as it turns out, because it very suddenly started hailing very hard. The hailstones weren’t very big, maybe pea-sized if that, but it did, in fact, hail on us. The hail turned into big, old, fat rain, as Forrest Gump calls it, and while our backpacks and heads stayed dry, our feet, shoes and socks were soaked. Fortunately, the rain didn’t continue for very long and at the next quick stop, I was able to change into dry socks. The cool air and the rain rejuvenated me somehow and for a little while, I forgot about how badly my left leg was hurting. But I was pretty sure I had a blister on my left foot from walking in squishy socks for three miles. At rest stop F, I subjected the medical staff to looking at/touching my pruney feet, was given some moleskin to cushion the forming blister (which was too small to actually lance at that point), and set off to finish the last mile and a half of the walk!
I remembered this stretch of the walk from last year – through residential neighborhoods, kids outside playing, telling us how much farther we had to go, my friend meeting us and walking us into the Wellness Village. I was very much relieved to find another woman walking into the Village at the same time and pace as me, or I would have missed my friends too much. She also helped keep me going even though my left leg was now threatening succession from my body, so I thank her for that. At approximately 5:15pm, we entered the Wellness Village, greeted by dozens of walkers and crew members, cheering us on. What a relief!
I checked out of the Village and a friend of mine picked me up and brought me home – thank you to him, too! It hurt to sit down in his car. It hurt to walk up the stairs to my apartment. It hurt to lie down and stretch once I got here. I remember being stiff and sore last year, but I don’t know what I did or didn’t do differently this year to hurt so badly. I made what I think was a very wise decision to not do the second day of the walk, nor the film. I fell asleep at about eight o’clock and woke up every time I went to turn over and my left leg said, “I don’t think so.” I did get some rest, and woke up with my cat by my side, looking out for my health.
I don’t think any serious damage was done to my leg. I’m sure I’ll be fine with rest and stretching. But I feel like I really put in a good effort this year. I walked through rain, hail, and scorching sun. I cried I don’t know how many tears. I hugged a half a dozen strangers, drank four liters of water, and three of Gatorade. I used probably twenty port-o-johns and walked 26.2 miles (limping badly for the last four miles) so that someday, people will no longer have to hear “You have breast cancer.” With your last minute donations, we raised $2,900 so that people who are diagnosed but don’t have insurance or a health care provider can get the help they need. We made a difference this weekend. We did something that is bigger than any one of us. There were over 2400 walkers this year who so far raised over $5.6 million, and the donations are still coming in.
I thank you for being with me on the walk. I thank you for your love and support and encouragement. I thank my mom for walking with me, and Amy for the phone calls/text messages of encouragement along the way. I will wear my beaten up leg as a badge of honor, a sign of all of the hard work you guys have put in over the past months.
We made a difference this weekend. Thank you. And I’ll see you all next year!!
Much love,
Kitty
Friday, June 03, 2005
I know I haven't written in here nearly as much this year as I did last year and I apologize for that. The whole Walk has been a different experience for me this year, with the one notable exception being the astounding goodness of the people around me. I'm stunned at how many people gave donations or sent an e-mail with encouraging words or shared a story or want to come out and cheer on the walkers. Honestly stunned. I mean, I know I hang out with really quality people, but they are going above and beyond what I thought my own friends could do, you know? And I thank you guys for that.
But it's been a different journey for me this year because it is one I am going alone in many ways. My friend who walked with me last year is not walking this year, so there was no planning of a joint event. I did put together a CD and a benefit concert that involved other amazing people, but it's different somehow. And I've been much, much, much busier than I was last year, so I wasn't able to do as many fundraising events this time around. But I've still raised between $2500 and $2600! It's amazing. Even though people are scrimping for money in so many cases, they still found five or ten dollars to give to others who really need help. My eyes are welling up with tears thinking about it. If you have never done something like this in your life and you need a reminder that humans are inherently good, do something like this. Get involved with a charity that means something to you and get out there and make a difference. You'll find hundreds of people out there looking for a way to help out, too, who are grateful that you stepped up to do something.
I am nervous about the walk. It will be harder without my friend there. I know I will meet amazing people on the walk, but it will be harder without my friend there. And I am sick this year, as I set out to walk a marathon across Chicago. I think I'm in pretty good physical shape because of my recent move, but I'm worried about the Monkey SARS that has taken hold in my lungs and does not want to let go. Keep your fingers crossed for me!
What am I talking about? When I hit a rough spot along the way, I know all I will have to do is look at the names on my shirt to remind myself of who I am walking for, why I started this in the first place, and I will make it to the next rest stop. Thank you guys for giving me that strength. I will see you all in twenty-six miles! (Pray for rain on Sunday, so I will see you in thirty-nine miles.)
But it's been a different journey for me this year because it is one I am going alone in many ways. My friend who walked with me last year is not walking this year, so there was no planning of a joint event. I did put together a CD and a benefit concert that involved other amazing people, but it's different somehow. And I've been much, much, much busier than I was last year, so I wasn't able to do as many fundraising events this time around. But I've still raised between $2500 and $2600! It's amazing. Even though people are scrimping for money in so many cases, they still found five or ten dollars to give to others who really need help. My eyes are welling up with tears thinking about it. If you have never done something like this in your life and you need a reminder that humans are inherently good, do something like this. Get involved with a charity that means something to you and get out there and make a difference. You'll find hundreds of people out there looking for a way to help out, too, who are grateful that you stepped up to do something.
I am nervous about the walk. It will be harder without my friend there. I know I will meet amazing people on the walk, but it will be harder without my friend there. And I am sick this year, as I set out to walk a marathon across Chicago. I think I'm in pretty good physical shape because of my recent move, but I'm worried about the Monkey SARS that has taken hold in my lungs and does not want to let go. Keep your fingers crossed for me!
What am I talking about? When I hit a rough spot along the way, I know all I will have to do is look at the names on my shirt to remind myself of who I am walking for, why I started this in the first place, and I will make it to the next rest stop. Thank you guys for giving me that strength. I will see you all in twenty-six miles! (Pray for rain on Sunday, so I will see you in thirty-nine miles.)
