AVON Walk for Breast Cancer – Stop the War in My Rack

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I did it! We did it!

My team walked 39.3 miles in the Washington, D.C. Avon Walk for Breast Cancer. I generally get cranky driving 39 miles so imagine how I felt pounding the pavement, and the mulch, and the pebbly paths on the Mall for 39 miles. I never thought I’d channel Watty Piper to get my arse up a hill, but there I was chanting, “I think I can. I think I can.” in my head. I would have been gonged off the stage had I said that aloud. We were tired but not punch drunk enough to appreciate that brand of geekiness.

Now a confession: I didn’t think I could do it. I was almost certain I couldn’t. I had psyched myself out with so much negative bantering in my head. I was more than a tish nervous. I’m the girl with zero athletic prowess and feet that seem to trip over themselves while standing still. I was a training machine, braving the unusually frigid temps of winter in North Carolina to walk 5-7 miles with my dog Lark five mornings a week. He and I zigzagged different routes through the city pacing and mapping what our long walks would look like. Then I got a stress fracture in my heel, rendering me useless. I spent eight weeks off my feet, hobbling to take Lark for a teaser walk around the block, his brown saggy eyes pleading with me to carry on. I never regained my training momentum and coddled my heel for fear of injuring it too much to participate in this walk at all. So in the end, I walked 39.3 miles without training. That was a really dumb thing to do. Brain over pain, man. It worked this time, but I don’t recommend it as an M.O. Also, don’t walk in jeans or “sports” sandals. What were those people thinking?! As for the women who started off wearing pink boas and sparkly knee socks, I bet they ditched that stuff after the first photo opp.

Training is critical if you plan on participating in the Avon walk, but what I found is what I lack in brawn, I compensate for in brain. Mind over matter, people. Walking 39.3 miles is not just about physical ability. The mental aspect is really where your gumption comes from. And every time I whined about my silly feet or tired legs, I was reminded of all the people who duke it out with chemo. I was reminded of my friends Susan and Jen who would much rather be in my shoes (though not literally because my shoes were pretty rank). We all whined here and there; it’s a natural reaction when your feet take step after step for 39.3 miles (I don’t want to lose sight of that little .3!). I walked with a super crew of women who stepped in as cheerleader, reality checker, nurse, comedic relief, entertainer, therapist, and self help guru as needed. Let me just say that the only reason I finished this walk was because of my friends who walked with me.

I was spent at mile 20 on the first day and had to get my shit together to trudge up all those hills to get to mile 26. At this point I channeled Susan and Jen and chose to be grateful for my able body rather than curse what my body had to endure. Our team, comprised of women ranging in age from 32 to 60, not only hauled ass, we kicked ass. Together we crossed the finish line. I was a mess of tears before we even started the walk. We all carried a sign with the names of the people we were walking in honor of or in memory of. One look at two team members’ signs made me weep. Both had lost their mothers to breast cancer. I wept again at the end when a young woman, head bald from chemo, crossed the finish line arm in arm with a host of friends supporting her and her mother snapping photos. It was poignant and moving and reminded me why we walked.

You don’t need me to tell you breast cancer statistics. You know that one in nine women will be diagnosed with the disease. You know to be an advocate for your own health and fight to get a mammogram before age 40. You know to do a self breast exam every. single. month. You know women battling breast cancer right this very minute. You know you can make a difference.

I don’t live near Susan and Jen. I don’t know how I can help them from afar other than through my words and my prayers. But I knew that raising money for the Avon foundation and walking 39.3 miles would make a difference. Avon handed out checks at the closing ceremony. I met an oncology nurse who was representing her organization to get the check in the ceremony. She thanked me for walking and was truly moved by our efforts. I was in turn moved by hers.

Let me end by saying that the majority of women people walked in honor of or in memory of were quite young. Most of the women I saw who are current breast cancer patients or survivors were quite young. This is not an old woman’s disease that comes with the trappings of aging. It’s no secret that women’s health is not a priority in this country. Policy after policy create obstacles for women’s healthcare. I was happy to see so many men walking in the Avon Walk for Breast Cancer. We need to work together to be advocates for women’s health. We need our husbands and sons and fathers to stand up for us, to walk beside us, to raise their voices, lift their hearts, and demand proper care for the women in their lives.

Breast cancer is not a woman’s disease; it is a family’s disease.

I’m so proud of my friends Susan and Jen. I’m so proud of my team and am humbled to call these women my friends. I wouldn’t have made it on day two without Christy regaling us with tales that enthralled us to the point of forgetting we were even walking. Mile five snuck up on us, and then mile 10. We were still smiling and laughing, perhaps a bit punchy at this point, but we knew we could do it. Walking 39.3 miles was the most difficult yet rewarding thing I have ever done. In a word, it was exhilarating.

I would do it again. Who’s in?