So this is my 100th blog post.
What? Did I do that? Yes!
I’d love to blow your socks off with some terribly awesome post that will change the world. But, sadly… I am just me.
However, let’s travel back in time. *holds TARDIS door open* Come on. *sets dials* *pulls levers* *pushes buttons* *runs around like a crazy Time Lord*
We have traveled back to one year ago today.
November 17, 2013.
San Diego, CA.
The final day of the Susan G. Koman 3-Day Walk. The last twenty miles. Sore legs. Blisters. But the end was in sight.
My sisters and I participated in this event to raise money to fight breast cancer. We walked 60 miles in three days.
IT WAS THE BEST WEEKEND OF MY LIFE.
The volunteers who cheered us on. The people of San Diego holding signs and handing out candy and cupcakes (yes, cupcakes). The crew directing traffic all day long, but always sharing a smile.
A fabulous time with my two sisters. I salute you: Janet (who lives with MS, never knowing if her body will cooperate or not) and Sharon (a now 2 year breast cancer survivor!). The best sisters. My sisters.
I had no idea how that day would affect me. I had no idea that in those final miles a great sense of having been a part of something bigger would wash over me. Yes, I cried. The cheering crowds. The signs thanking us for walking. The people dressed in outrageous bras and pink EVERYTHING.
I could have lost my sister.
But I didn’t. Modern medicine and perhaps God saved her.
And I am thankful.
As we crossed that finish line, passing the 60 mile mark, I lost it. What I had just done struck me. Before taking that first step, I was going on a walk. I was going to hang out with my sisters, no kids or hubs or house to worry about. Just steps. One foot in front of the other. Simple. Except not.
It was more. It was everything.
At the end, we donned our shirts, Sharon, the survivor, in pink and Janet and I in white. We joined a line of walkers, Sharon shipped off to the survivor line. First the white shirts paraded through a crowd. Faces I didn’t know, smiling and waving. And I wanted to hide. All I had done was walk.
Then came the faces I knew, the volunteers that had been out on that course everyday in sweep vans, offering rides, or directing traffic, or handing out food. My heart swelled with thanks to them for what they had done for us, those who had walked. Walked to make the world a better place.
After all the white shirts had filed in, those wearing pink came in to thunderous applause. And we took off a shoe, people, a shoe that had traveled 60 miles of San Diego, and we raised them in the air. In honor of these people who fought cancer and won. In honor of all the people who had fought and hadn’t won.
And I caught sight of my sister. And I cried. Again.
My sister made me a poster of our weekend for Christmas last year. So many pics. Memories. I stare at it all the time. Remembering. The handkerchief holding names of those who had fought or were fighting. My identification tag, covered with stickers, and the pink feathers I collected from the side of the road. The cards with the day’s schedule. I keep it all, these things represent so much.
Sharon made us each a poster to remember the journey.
The world is a big place. Full of people. And being who I am, I tend to avoid it, hide in my house, writing words. But every so often we should come out of our worlds and experience something bigger than us. Be a part of all the greatness that exists out there in the world. The Susan G. Koman 3-Day Walk was that for me. I will never forget that experience. And the fact that I got to do it with my sisters makes it even better.
Go forth, all you fabulous people. Go forth and spread a smile. Add you to the world. It needs you.