Three Days

There is no possible way I can squeeze into one post everything that happened this weekend as I walked in the Susan G. Komen Breast Cancer 3-Day.  There is also no possible way that anyone would have enough time to read the whole thing if I did.  I may come back to it with some deeper musings in a few days when I’ve had a chance to process more, but for now, I will share with you a few of the many results of my walking 60 miles this weekend:

  • I have six blisters on my feet.  The Daddy blister is about the size of a quarter.  Maybe bigger.
  • I now walk like a ninety-year-old woman.  Make that a ninety-year-old pregnant woman.  Not pretty.
  • I now expect to be high-fived by everyone I pass on the street.
  • I learned that my husband knows how to: load and unload the dishwasher, tidy the playroom bookshelves and (gasp!) clean the toilet.  I knew he was an awesome Daddy, but he really showed off his talents this weekend.  (Note: I also learned he does *not* know that little girls should wear tights to church when it’s 40 degrees outside.  Oh well, nobody’s perfect.)
  • I raised (with the help of many of you) $2242 for the fight against breast cancer (and you can still donate if you want!)  Woohoo!
  • Susan G. Komen for the Cure raised (through this walk alone)… ready?  8.1 million dollars!
  • I have a new appreciation for this song.  It was played at opening ceremony and stayed in my head all weekend.  And I think I love it even more now than I did before.  (Except for the getting drunk part.  Sorry about that!)

  • I have a new appreciation for my best friend.
  • And for her husband, who brought us chocolate and Coke Zero on Saturday and is quite possibly the only reason we made it back to camp that day without getting on the sweep van.
  • I love port-a-potties.  That might sound like sarcasm, but I assure you, it isn’t.  Even with potty breaks every hour or so along the walk, when little old pregnant me was drinking 16 oz. of fluid an hour, words cannot express how my heart sang each time those little green huts appeared in the horizon.
  • I will never, ever again take for granted the following things: a hot bath, a warm bed, a day of doing nothing much with my family.  I had no idea I could miss them so much in just three days.
  • I will never again take for granted my own health or that of my loved ones after spending the weekend with many who had lost loved ones to breast cancer or had survived it themselves.  They were the real heroes of this walk.