I'd like to share with you the next installment from my 17 year old 60MileDaughter. (you can read her first post here) I am so proud of her as she begins seriously training for her first 3Day Walk For the Cure. She is planning to walk with me this summer in Chicago. This past weekend, we took a training walk of "10 miles" together. She was cranky before we started and I began to dread what I had brought upon myself by inviting her to share this. Walking (and crewing) in the 3Day Walks is a precious part of my life. It has been a big part of my life for ten years, and training walks are something I dearly love. Her crankiness seared my heart. I feared what her attitude might do to my own training. My fears were mostly unfounded. Indeed, training with her will be very different than training with Matt (60MileHusband) has been. It will be very different than training alone my first year. It will be very different than training with friends has been. BUT it will be an amazing experience for both of us and I am excited to move into this new adventure.
Read on, in her words, and "hear" about her first big training walk.
**
Yesterday I walked out the door with my parents, decked out and ready to spend the day walking. It was all planned out, as my stepfather has warned me – “make sure your mother maps it out beforehand so it really is the length she promises.”
Ten miles, mapped out with a lunch break half-way through, I can do this, I thought … maybe. Five steps in I was already complaining, there was no way I could do ten miles, let alone twenty miles for three days in a row. Yet somewhere along the way, something clicked for me. I can walk, I can put one foot in front of the other and I can make it. Not for myself and not simply for the sake of saying I can do it, but because not everyone can. I am walking sixty miles in three days for those we have lost to breast cancer and for those we don’t want to ever lose.
I returned home from our walk and mapped the route for myself --- 11.5 miles! My feet were sore and my legs were tired, but I had done more than I thought I could, way more. Today I feel fine, tired muscles but not in pain.
All I want to do is walk, I want to go out there and push forward again, and walk until I don’t think I can walk any further, and then keep on walking a little more. I want to walk because at the end of each walk there is another chance, and the feeling that I really can make a difference.
I can’t do it on my own though.
I have my mom cheering me onward, reminding me of the little kids who will for cheer me on during the three days. I’ll hear them yelling “Thank you for helping my mommy”. I have my mom telling me of the tears I will cry and the memories I will make and never forget. I have my friends congratulating me on another mile walked, and telling me it is fine that I can’t spend time with them today, they understand. The walking is more important.
And I have you, supporting me in the most important way. You are supporting the fundraising, the reason I am pushing for more miles. I may be walking to raise awareness, but you are listening and supporting me.
I would like to thank those of you who have helped me so far in this long journey to come, and for those of you who haven’t it’s not too late. Your donation in any amount helps. We’re also selling t-shirts for a $16 donation if that better suits. I thank you for anything and everything.
Thank you again,
Aliza Majewski
Make your donation PLEASE visit my website now.
Tuesday, May 24, 2011
Friday, March 4, 2011
Proud Mother
I haven't written a blog post in a long time, since my most recent 3Day last October. Now that things are gearing up for the new season, my mind is on all things 3Day, and I am ready to start writing along with all my other training and preparing. However, today's post isn't written by me. Today I am sharing my daughter's fundraising letter. This summer, she will be walking in her first 3Day For the Cure. I am so proud of her I could burst.
Here is her letter:
***
Ten years ago this coming May I watched my mother in her first 3Day Walk for Breast Cancer. She walked sixty miles in three days. I saw how hard she worked to train and to raise money, and how dedicated she was to the cause. My family has experienced breast cancer. We have lost dear friends and cried tears of joy when other friends have survived. That first year, 2001, my mom met my step-father Matt. Since then, they have walked and crewed in the 3Day Walk for Breast Cancer each year. Each year, they have participated in this event so that hopefully one day we can live in a world where no one has to go through the pain and suffering that too many people in this world have experienced. This year I turned sixteen, and this year I can do more than just support my parents as they work for this goal. I can do more than drive to Chicago to cheer them on. I can do more than drive to Boston in snow and sleet in the middle of May to give them dry clothes because they are unwilling to give up. This year, with their dedication in my heart, I can do more. In August of 2011 I will be walking sixty miles in three days in Chicago during the Susan G. Komen Walk for a Cure. I have a lot of work ahead of me. Ever since I was six I have heard my mom talk about how the commitment is like a part time job. You have to train and train hard, you have to build up strength and endurance, and you have to raise $2,300 for this amazing cause.
The Susan G. Komen 3Day Walks for the Cure raise millions of dollars to help research cures and to support those who are suffering. Thousands of people participate in each of the 15 walks in different cities. I have chosen Chicago. My parents have both walked and crewed this walk, and I have walked along the trail cheering sore walkers along, thanking them for what they are doing. After the 2010 walk, my older cousin called me up and said he wanted to walk, but he wanted me with him. After a few days of back and forth I realized that I was being silly. I had suffered with my family; I had supported people when they needed it most. I held my mother’s hand as she sobbed over one of her absolutely closest friend’s fight. She fought this disease to, sadly, not make it through. I called my cousin back, and told him to grab his sneakers because we were going to Chicago.
I am writing this letter, not to tell my life story, but to ask for help in this battle. Help me help others, and let us try to stop this tragic disease from hurting more families. Any donation helps, the more we raise, the more opportunities there are to solve the mystery of breast cancer.
Thank you for your help,
Aliza Majewski
www.the3day.org/goto/alizamajewski2011
Here is her letter:
***
Ten years ago this coming May I watched my mother in her first 3Day Walk for Breast Cancer. She walked sixty miles in three days. I saw how hard she worked to train and to raise money, and how dedicated she was to the cause. My family has experienced breast cancer. We have lost dear friends and cried tears of joy when other friends have survived. That first year, 2001, my mom met my step-father Matt. Since then, they have walked and crewed in the 3Day Walk for Breast Cancer each year. Each year, they have participated in this event so that hopefully one day we can live in a world where no one has to go through the pain and suffering that too many people in this world have experienced. This year I turned sixteen, and this year I can do more than just support my parents as they work for this goal. I can do more than drive to Chicago to cheer them on. I can do more than drive to Boston in snow and sleet in the middle of May to give them dry clothes because they are unwilling to give up. This year, with their dedication in my heart, I can do more. In August of 2011 I will be walking sixty miles in three days in Chicago during the Susan G. Komen Walk for a Cure. I have a lot of work ahead of me. Ever since I was six I have heard my mom talk about how the commitment is like a part time job. You have to train and train hard, you have to build up strength and endurance, and you have to raise $2,300 for this amazing cause.
The Susan G. Komen 3Day Walks for the Cure raise millions of dollars to help research cures and to support those who are suffering. Thousands of people participate in each of the 15 walks in different cities. I have chosen Chicago. My parents have both walked and crewed this walk, and I have walked along the trail cheering sore walkers along, thanking them for what they are doing. After the 2010 walk, my older cousin called me up and said he wanted to walk, but he wanted me with him. After a few days of back and forth I realized that I was being silly. I had suffered with my family; I had supported people when they needed it most. I held my mother’s hand as she sobbed over one of her absolutely closest friend’s fight. She fought this disease to, sadly, not make it through. I called my cousin back, and told him to grab his sneakers because we were going to Chicago.
I am writing this letter, not to tell my life story, but to ask for help in this battle. Help me help others, and let us try to stop this tragic disease from hurting more families. Any donation helps, the more we raise, the more opportunities there are to solve the mystery of breast cancer.
Thank you for your help,
Aliza Majewski
www.the3day.org/goto/alizamajewski2011
Tuesday, October 5, 2010
Every Mug Deserves a Lifetime
Yesterday was a pretty challenging day. A lot of stuff has happened all in one day.
It all started in the morning. One of my first thoughts of the day was a sense of super happy excitedness. Why? Because 3DayMug was scheduled to arrive at my office. For those of you not in this particular loop, I'll try to explain. 3DayMug is a mug. She is a very special mug. She was created and painted by 3Day Walker and fellow online ambassador, Kristen Cincotta. Through a series of entertaining Twitter-universe moments, Mug became a bit of a 3Day celebrity. Mug even has a facebook page and her own Twitter account. As part of her celebrity, Kristen has made arrangements to make it possible for Mug to participate in a large number of this season's 3Day events, escorted by walkers and crew from among the 3DayTweeps.
So, there I was, feeling particularly excited because Mug was making her way to my office so that she could come to Washington, DC with me and Matt to walk this weekend. My friend, Heather, even helped me out by making some really cute buttons for me to give to walkers who get their picture taken with Mug.
Okay, so when did my day change? I left my office for a little while. I came back and saw that a box had arrived for me. I got wicked excited. I carefully unwrapped Mug and introduced her around my office. I set her up for a little photo shoot so that I could announce on Twitter that she had made it safely to Massachusetts. I took a nice picture.
I picked up the box she was in and then something horrible went wrong. I don't even know how it happened, but suddenly there was a crash and Mug was on the floor. I shouted a word that one is not supposed to shout in one's office. Loudly. A few times. And then I cried a minute. And then I picked her up. Mug's handle had broken in three places.
I let Kristen know right away. I spent the afternoon depressed that I had harmed this Mug that has come to mean so much to so many walkers. That part has been really tough, and I am very good at beating myself up. I spent a bunch of hours focusing on all the people who kept Mug safe and what a lousy job I have done. It helps a lot that Kristen reminded me right away that it was an accident and it was bound to happen. I just really hate that it happened "on my watch". I feel like a careless lummox. But I set the self-loathing aside and focused on helping Mug. I spent the evening repairing Mug.
Her handle is now intact, although I am concerned as to how she will manage if she is held by said handle. And I really don't think she could hang from a beaner on someone's waist pack while they walk, as was planned. I have also inspected her and discovered a small crack on her body. She's been through a lot today, and she will require a lot of special care-taking to get her through the rest of the season.
THEN...
I stood back and looked at Mug, all repaired and ready to continue her 3Day adventure in DC and I had a flash of clarity. It was as though I could see the whole thing through her eyes. Here's what I think the day felt like to Mug starting with when she fell to the floor:
......
OUCH! After sitting on the sidelines of this breast cancer event for a few months, I suddenly feel like I might understand what it means to be diagnosed with breast cancer. A minute ago I was fine, and then suddenly this Thing happened to me. I will never be the same. I lay there on the floor with my handle in pieces and I thought, "Why do bad Things happen to Good Mugs? Why me? Why not that old thermos on the desk? Why did this happen to a sweet pretty young Mug like me?"
I couldn't wallow in self pity though because I was suddenly involved in my own treatment. Before I knew what was happening, I was laying on a cold counter exposed to a bright light. I was being poked and prodded and examined and I didn’t feel like I had any real say in what was going to happen next. All I know is that I was thinking, “Please just do whatever you have to do to make me feel whole again.” And then, before I really even knew what was happening, I was being treated with a stinky chemical mess. The people kept poking at me and telling me to stay perfectly still. I was frightened and wondering what was going to happen, and still they kept coming at me with more chemicals. I’m starting to think that super glue and chemo have a lot in common. The people who were poking at me kept muttering platitudes like, “It’s going to be just fine. Don’t worry, we’re taking good care of you.” And yet at the same time, I could see in their eyes a look of deep concern that maybe things weren’t going as smoothly as they’d hoped.
I felt like time had no real meaning while I was lying there for treatment. I kept thinking about all the things I still want to do with my life. I thought about the walks I want to be carried on. I thought about the people I care about and want to see again – Mom, Aunt Julie, the girls from the ATL training walks. I thought about all the people I still haven’t met and all the places I still haven’t seen. I know I am just a Mug, but I want more time and I am scared that because of this Thing, I am not going to have it.
I came through the reconstructive surgery pretty well. I don’t look quite as young as I did before the Thing happened. And maybe one side of me isn’t even with the other anymore, but you would only notice if you stared at me. It’s time to move on to the next stage. I’m ready to walk in the DC 3Day now. I’m going to need a lot of support and folks are going to have to be extra careful with me. I’ve been through a lot, you know.
Thank goodness nobody tried to say "Don't worry, Mug. After this, you will be as good as new." Because I won't be as good as new. I will never be the same Mug as I was before this happened. My whole body has changed because of this; and so has who I am. But I am stronger because I have survived this Thing.
I AM A SURVIVOR NOW! I am ready to head to DC now. I am ready to cheer on the walkers and thank the crew. I am totally ready to stand proud and strong with all the other survivors. Look out for me - I’ll be the one in pink!
It all started in the morning. One of my first thoughts of the day was a sense of super happy excitedness. Why? Because 3DayMug was scheduled to arrive at my office. For those of you not in this particular loop, I'll try to explain. 3DayMug is a mug. She is a very special mug. She was created and painted by 3Day Walker and fellow online ambassador, Kristen Cincotta. Through a series of entertaining Twitter-universe moments, Mug became a bit of a 3Day celebrity. Mug even has a facebook page and her own Twitter account. As part of her celebrity, Kristen has made arrangements to make it possible for Mug to participate in a large number of this season's 3Day events, escorted by walkers and crew from among the 3DayTweeps.
So, there I was, feeling particularly excited because Mug was making her way to my office so that she could come to Washington, DC with me and Matt to walk this weekend. My friend, Heather, even helped me out by making some really cute buttons for me to give to walkers who get their picture taken with Mug.
Okay, so when did my day change? I left my office for a little while. I came back and saw that a box had arrived for me. I got wicked excited. I carefully unwrapped Mug and introduced her around my office. I set her up for a little photo shoot so that I could announce on Twitter that she had made it safely to Massachusetts. I took a nice picture.
I picked up the box she was in and then something horrible went wrong. I don't even know how it happened, but suddenly there was a crash and Mug was on the floor. I shouted a word that one is not supposed to shout in one's office. Loudly. A few times. And then I cried a minute. And then I picked her up. Mug's handle had broken in three places.
I let Kristen know right away. I spent the afternoon depressed that I had harmed this Mug that has come to mean so much to so many walkers. That part has been really tough, and I am very good at beating myself up. I spent a bunch of hours focusing on all the people who kept Mug safe and what a lousy job I have done. It helps a lot that Kristen reminded me right away that it was an accident and it was bound to happen. I just really hate that it happened "on my watch". I feel like a careless lummox. But I set the self-loathing aside and focused on helping Mug. I spent the evening repairing Mug.
Her handle is now intact, although I am concerned as to how she will manage if she is held by said handle. And I really don't think she could hang from a beaner on someone's waist pack while they walk, as was planned. I have also inspected her and discovered a small crack on her body. She's been through a lot today, and she will require a lot of special care-taking to get her through the rest of the season.
THEN...
I stood back and looked at Mug, all repaired and ready to continue her 3Day adventure in DC and I had a flash of clarity. It was as though I could see the whole thing through her eyes. Here's what I think the day felt like to Mug starting with when she fell to the floor:
......
OUCH! After sitting on the sidelines of this breast cancer event for a few months, I suddenly feel like I might understand what it means to be diagnosed with breast cancer. A minute ago I was fine, and then suddenly this Thing happened to me. I will never be the same. I lay there on the floor with my handle in pieces and I thought, "Why do bad Things happen to Good Mugs? Why me? Why not that old thermos on the desk? Why did this happen to a sweet pretty young Mug like me?"
I couldn't wallow in self pity though because I was suddenly involved in my own treatment. Before I knew what was happening, I was laying on a cold counter exposed to a bright light. I was being poked and prodded and examined and I didn’t feel like I had any real say in what was going to happen next. All I know is that I was thinking, “Please just do whatever you have to do to make me feel whole again.” And then, before I really even knew what was happening, I was being treated with a stinky chemical mess. The people kept poking at me and telling me to stay perfectly still. I was frightened and wondering what was going to happen, and still they kept coming at me with more chemicals. I’m starting to think that super glue and chemo have a lot in common. The people who were poking at me kept muttering platitudes like, “It’s going to be just fine. Don’t worry, we’re taking good care of you.” And yet at the same time, I could see in their eyes a look of deep concern that maybe things weren’t going as smoothly as they’d hoped.
I felt like time had no real meaning while I was lying there for treatment. I kept thinking about all the things I still want to do with my life. I thought about the walks I want to be carried on. I thought about the people I care about and want to see again – Mom, Aunt Julie, the girls from the ATL training walks. I thought about all the people I still haven’t met and all the places I still haven’t seen. I know I am just a Mug, but I want more time and I am scared that because of this Thing, I am not going to have it.
I came through the reconstructive surgery pretty well. I don’t look quite as young as I did before the Thing happened. And maybe one side of me isn’t even with the other anymore, but you would only notice if you stared at me. It’s time to move on to the next stage. I’m ready to walk in the DC 3Day now. I’m going to need a lot of support and folks are going to have to be extra careful with me. I’ve been through a lot, you know.
Thank goodness nobody tried to say "Don't worry, Mug. After this, you will be as good as new." Because I won't be as good as new. I will never be the same Mug as I was before this happened. My whole body has changed because of this; and so has who I am. But I am stronger because I have survived this Thing.
I AM A SURVIVOR NOW! I am ready to head to DC now. I am ready to cheer on the walkers and thank the crew. I am totally ready to stand proud and strong with all the other survivors. Look out for me - I’ll be the one in pink!
Monday, September 20, 2010
Tell Them I Said Yes to Life
For the past week, I’ve been heading to my friend’s house after dinner and giving him a shot. Yup, that’s what I said. And no, I don’t mean I would drive over there and pour him some whiskey. I mean an injection, pharmaceutical-type, legally prescribed by a surgeon.
My friend, Joe, recently had surgery and needed a daily injection of an anti-coagulant. His doctor suggested that this was something easily taken care of at home, if he could find someone comfortable doing it. Having given injections before, and being not at all queasy about needles, I volunteered. I might have more than volunteered. I might have said something about being honored if he would give me the chance to be his care-provider. And that is the truth about how it felt. Joe's been through a lot of health challenges in the past couple years, and I felt fortunate to be able to lighten his emotional load even just a little bit.
And so, each evening for a week, I gave Joe a shot in his leg and then sat on his couch and visited. Each night when I got up to leave, either he or his partner (or both) would thank me and ask, “are you sure it’s not too much?” I’d shake my head in disbelief and reassure him that it was, indeed, nowhere near too much. Bottom line is that I am grateful to have had the chance to help him in this small way. I am grateful to offer him support. That’s what friends are for. When friendship really works, that’s what friends do. They say yes.
There’s a hymn I know, written by Alicia S. Carpenter, which resonates for me. Here is the first stanza:
Just as long as I have breath, I must answer, 'Yes' to life;
though with pain I made my way, still with hope I meet each day.
If they ask what I did well, tell them I said, 'Yes', to life
It’s why I walk and crew in the 3Day for the Cure – because saying “yes to life” is the thing I want to do well. It’s why I work diligently year-round to keep raising money for the fight against breast cancer – because it is how I can meet each day with hope. It is why I believe that helping my friends and family can come before anything else – because saying yes builds connections, and connections are what keep us strong. I say yes because I feel a strong responsibility to do so. I keep saying yes because I can.
Twelve years ago, through a mutual friend, I met Mary Kay. We talked on the phone before we met in person, and right away I felt that I had found someone who was going to be a part of my life forever. When we met face to face, we hugged immediately. I remember the moment clearly. I walked down to meet the boat that she was arriving on. I saw her walking towards me, her arm around a boy who was smiling and laughing with my own son. She looked up and our glances caught one another. I smiled inquiringly towards her and she nodded emphatically and she yelled out loud, “YES! Yes, I am who you are looking for!” It sounds a bit like romantic comedy when I write it that way, but it was just simple heart-filled friendship from the very start. Mary Kay and I had three years as friends before I lost her to breast cancer. But that premonition that I had that she would be part of my life forever? THAT was so very true.
I say yes to life, because Mary Kay isn’t here to do it anymore. Mar said yes to my friendship. She said yes to being a fabulous parent. She even said yes to being a fabulous parent when she became a single parent suddenly when she lost her husband to pancreatic cancer. She said yes when they said she could try to fight her breast cancer. She said yes when the doctors finally said it was time to stop trying. She said yes to planning the lives her children would have to live without her by their sides. She said yes to everything in her life. And when she had to, she said yes to saying goodbye. She said yes, even to the things she didn’t want, but didn’t have a choice about.
Sure, sometimes the fact that I say yes means that I don’t have time to keep my house as clean as I’d like. And sometimes all the yeses I have said mean that I don’t have time to hide in the basement and make a basket. And sometimes all my yeses mean that I don’t get around to writing my blog. But while all those things aren’t happening, and aren’t getting done, something amazing IS getting done. I am saying yes to life. And so, the next time that I am feeling angry and frustrated about something I haven’t gotten done, I promise myself to stop and think about all the things I am getting done. Like giving a friend something he really needed and didn’t really want.
My friend, Joe, recently had surgery and needed a daily injection of an anti-coagulant. His doctor suggested that this was something easily taken care of at home, if he could find someone comfortable doing it. Having given injections before, and being not at all queasy about needles, I volunteered. I might have more than volunteered. I might have said something about being honored if he would give me the chance to be his care-provider. And that is the truth about how it felt. Joe's been through a lot of health challenges in the past couple years, and I felt fortunate to be able to lighten his emotional load even just a little bit.
And so, each evening for a week, I gave Joe a shot in his leg and then sat on his couch and visited. Each night when I got up to leave, either he or his partner (or both) would thank me and ask, “are you sure it’s not too much?” I’d shake my head in disbelief and reassure him that it was, indeed, nowhere near too much. Bottom line is that I am grateful to have had the chance to help him in this small way. I am grateful to offer him support. That’s what friends are for. When friendship really works, that’s what friends do. They say yes.
There’s a hymn I know, written by Alicia S. Carpenter, which resonates for me. Here is the first stanza:
Just as long as I have breath, I must answer, 'Yes' to life;
though with pain I made my way, still with hope I meet each day.
If they ask what I did well, tell them I said, 'Yes', to life
It’s why I walk and crew in the 3Day for the Cure – because saying “yes to life” is the thing I want to do well. It’s why I work diligently year-round to keep raising money for the fight against breast cancer – because it is how I can meet each day with hope. It is why I believe that helping my friends and family can come before anything else – because saying yes builds connections, and connections are what keep us strong. I say yes because I feel a strong responsibility to do so. I keep saying yes because I can.
Twelve years ago, through a mutual friend, I met Mary Kay. We talked on the phone before we met in person, and right away I felt that I had found someone who was going to be a part of my life forever. When we met face to face, we hugged immediately. I remember the moment clearly. I walked down to meet the boat that she was arriving on. I saw her walking towards me, her arm around a boy who was smiling and laughing with my own son. She looked up and our glances caught one another. I smiled inquiringly towards her and she nodded emphatically and she yelled out loud, “YES! Yes, I am who you are looking for!” It sounds a bit like romantic comedy when I write it that way, but it was just simple heart-filled friendship from the very start. Mary Kay and I had three years as friends before I lost her to breast cancer. But that premonition that I had that she would be part of my life forever? THAT was so very true.
I say yes to life, because Mary Kay isn’t here to do it anymore. Mar said yes to my friendship. She said yes to being a fabulous parent. She even said yes to being a fabulous parent when she became a single parent suddenly when she lost her husband to pancreatic cancer. She said yes when they said she could try to fight her breast cancer. She said yes when the doctors finally said it was time to stop trying. She said yes to planning the lives her children would have to live without her by their sides. She said yes to everything in her life. And when she had to, she said yes to saying goodbye. She said yes, even to the things she didn’t want, but didn’t have a choice about.
Sure, sometimes the fact that I say yes means that I don’t have time to keep my house as clean as I’d like. And sometimes all the yeses I have said mean that I don’t have time to hide in the basement and make a basket. And sometimes all my yeses mean that I don’t get around to writing my blog. But while all those things aren’t happening, and aren’t getting done, something amazing IS getting done. I am saying yes to life. And so, the next time that I am feeling angry and frustrated about something I haven’t gotten done, I promise myself to stop and think about all the things I am getting done. Like giving a friend something he really needed and didn’t really want.
Tuesday, August 31, 2010
What We Leave Behind
It’s been almost a month since I held my sneakers aloft during the Chicago 3Day closing ceremony. During those weeks, I have spent 22 hours driving home and countless more hours than that getting caught up with laundry and at my job. We’ve been fundraising and training for The3Day in DC in October. My daughter and my husband have headed back to school. But in amongst all that, I just keep thinking about everything we left behind in Chicago. By “WE”, I mean the walkers and crew of the Chicago 3Day for the Cure.
We left behind a message of hope and dozens of yards of pink crepe paper and ribbons. We left behind 4.3 million dollars raised to make a difference in the fight to find a cure for breast cancer. We left behind smiling young people cheering along 60 miles of sidewalks. We left behind funding for underprivileged women in a city that really needed us. We left behind incredible memories and a powerful message that kindness really can make a difference in the world.
But in the weeks since the Chicago 3Day, I have been reflecting with sadness on something else we left behind. This was my 17th 3Day event, and every time, I am startled anew by what is left behind on Sunday morning. Piles of tarps and sleeping bags and air mattresses get left behind. Mountains of things that the people of the cities we have walked through could definitely use. Sometimes I find it painful to walk out of camp on that final morning because I have seen sneakers left abandoned – sneakers that I realize don’t have enough life in them for a 3Day walker, but that definitely have enough life for the man on the corner begging for spare change to buy some food. Every time that I pack up my stuff on that last day, I am startled by the numbers of tarps left behind by walkers and crew too tired or too dazed to squeeze them into their bags. There are enough tarps left behind in a 3Day camp to build a small tent-city for a homeless community. There are enough tarps and sleeping bags to cover all the children left homeless by last year’s earthquake in Haiti. Enough sleeping bags for all the low-income girl scouts in any city I have ever walked in. The possibilities seem endless. What so many people treat as trash can really be someone else’s live-saving treasure.
Each time that we walk or crew, Matt and I leave extra space in our luggage. On Day3, we load up with tarps that are piling up by the trashcans and we bring them home with us. We donate them to shelters in our home area. After the Chicago 3Day this year, we shipped 32 tarps in perfect condition to Haiti with a friend who was traveling there. Maybe we didn’t change the world, but at least those 32 tarps went to a good cause rather than to a landfill. In Boston this year, a local Eagle Scout made announcements at dinner about collecting leftover supplies on Day3. He made all the arrangements to pick up and then donate the goods to shelters in the area.
There are so many ways to make a difference. I’m hoping that by speaking up today, I can encourage those walkers and crew who are getting ready for the events in the coming three months to give serious thought to what is being left behind.
Here are some ways that you can make a difference:
1. Do not leave any of your own stuff behind;
2. Make plans to take a few extra items with you and donate them to a worthy cause in your own backyard (or just keep them and use them yourself, at least they won’t go to a landfill!);
3. Make plans with a local shelter for them to come to Camp on closing morning to pick up leftovers;
4. Inspire a local scout or community service organization to contact The3Day and make a big plan to make a big difference;
5. Get creative and think of some way to take all those worthwhile items and pay it forward.
It is true that we – the walkers and crew of The3Day – are definitely making a difference in the fight against breast cancer. But that doesn’t have to mean that we forget to make a difference in other fights in our world.
We left behind a message of hope and dozens of yards of pink crepe paper and ribbons. We left behind 4.3 million dollars raised to make a difference in the fight to find a cure for breast cancer. We left behind smiling young people cheering along 60 miles of sidewalks. We left behind funding for underprivileged women in a city that really needed us. We left behind incredible memories and a powerful message that kindness really can make a difference in the world.
But in the weeks since the Chicago 3Day, I have been reflecting with sadness on something else we left behind. This was my 17th 3Day event, and every time, I am startled anew by what is left behind on Sunday morning. Piles of tarps and sleeping bags and air mattresses get left behind. Mountains of things that the people of the cities we have walked through could definitely use. Sometimes I find it painful to walk out of camp on that final morning because I have seen sneakers left abandoned – sneakers that I realize don’t have enough life in them for a 3Day walker, but that definitely have enough life for the man on the corner begging for spare change to buy some food. Every time that I pack up my stuff on that last day, I am startled by the numbers of tarps left behind by walkers and crew too tired or too dazed to squeeze them into their bags. There are enough tarps left behind in a 3Day camp to build a small tent-city for a homeless community. There are enough tarps and sleeping bags to cover all the children left homeless by last year’s earthquake in Haiti. Enough sleeping bags for all the low-income girl scouts in any city I have ever walked in. The possibilities seem endless. What so many people treat as trash can really be someone else’s live-saving treasure.
Each time that we walk or crew, Matt and I leave extra space in our luggage. On Day3, we load up with tarps that are piling up by the trashcans and we bring them home with us. We donate them to shelters in our home area. After the Chicago 3Day this year, we shipped 32 tarps in perfect condition to Haiti with a friend who was traveling there. Maybe we didn’t change the world, but at least those 32 tarps went to a good cause rather than to a landfill. In Boston this year, a local Eagle Scout made announcements at dinner about collecting leftover supplies on Day3. He made all the arrangements to pick up and then donate the goods to shelters in the area.
There are so many ways to make a difference. I’m hoping that by speaking up today, I can encourage those walkers and crew who are getting ready for the events in the coming three months to give serious thought to what is being left behind.
Here are some ways that you can make a difference:
1. Do not leave any of your own stuff behind;
2. Make plans to take a few extra items with you and donate them to a worthy cause in your own backyard (or just keep them and use them yourself, at least they won’t go to a landfill!);
3. Make plans with a local shelter for them to come to Camp on closing morning to pick up leftovers;
4. Inspire a local scout or community service organization to contact The3Day and make a big plan to make a big difference;
5. Get creative and think of some way to take all those worthwhile items and pay it forward.
It is true that we – the walkers and crew of The3Day – are definitely making a difference in the fight against breast cancer. But that doesn’t have to mean that we forget to make a difference in other fights in our world.
Saturday, August 21, 2010
Great Day to be Alive
This morning, I had the privilege of being present at the memorial service for a woman I have known my whole life. Although I had known her since my childhood, I learned more about her at this memorial through the words and stories told by her daughters, who are my peers and friends. I heard the most incredible words in the stories that they told about their mom.
Both daughters remarked that they really couldn’t recall a day of their lives that their mom didn’t say these words:
“It’s a great day to be alive, isn’t it?”
Those words resonated for me. After all, isn’t that exactly why I walk and crew in the 3Day for the Cure? We each should always be grateful for and reminded that life is short, and life – every day of it – is a gift. Although I have been walking and crewing in the 3Day walks for 9 years now, I can sometimes lose touch with the very basic reason that we walk. We walk because we are the ones who can. We walk in memory of friends lost. We walk in honor of survivors fighting. We walk for the daughters we are glad to know are healthy. We walk in the hope that someday nobody will worry about losing their loved one to this disease. But really, that simple message sums it all up. We walk BECAUSE IT IS A GREAT DAY TO BE ALIVE.
So, there I was, heading into the afternoon with that thought bouncing around in my head. And off I went with my 16 year old daughter so she could practice highway driving. About half an hour into things, another car merged onto the highway without yielding and we were hit on the passenger side. I’ve never actually been in a moving car in an accident, and it was pretty frightening. I saw the accident coming and there was little I could do to stop it. My daughter, with only 4 months of driving experience, reacted exactly right, and she probably saved our lives. She didn’t swerve into the next lane where we would definitely have been collided into, spun badly around or worse. She didn’t slam on her brakes in a panic causing us to be rear-ended at highway speeds. She remained calm enough to slow us down into a gentle collision. Sure the merging car crashed into us. And yes, we were all shook up and both cars sustained damage. But it could have been so much worse.
And there it was, clear as the squashed up quarter-panel and the badly bent passenger doorframe. Clear as the light of day that we all walked away into.
It is a great day to be alive. Every. Single. Day.
Both daughters remarked that they really couldn’t recall a day of their lives that their mom didn’t say these words:
“It’s a great day to be alive, isn’t it?”
Those words resonated for me. After all, isn’t that exactly why I walk and crew in the 3Day for the Cure? We each should always be grateful for and reminded that life is short, and life – every day of it – is a gift. Although I have been walking and crewing in the 3Day walks for 9 years now, I can sometimes lose touch with the very basic reason that we walk. We walk because we are the ones who can. We walk in memory of friends lost. We walk in honor of survivors fighting. We walk for the daughters we are glad to know are healthy. We walk in the hope that someday nobody will worry about losing their loved one to this disease. But really, that simple message sums it all up. We walk BECAUSE IT IS A GREAT DAY TO BE ALIVE.
So, there I was, heading into the afternoon with that thought bouncing around in my head. And off I went with my 16 year old daughter so she could practice highway driving. About half an hour into things, another car merged onto the highway without yielding and we were hit on the passenger side. I’ve never actually been in a moving car in an accident, and it was pretty frightening. I saw the accident coming and there was little I could do to stop it. My daughter, with only 4 months of driving experience, reacted exactly right, and she probably saved our lives. She didn’t swerve into the next lane where we would definitely have been collided into, spun badly around or worse. She didn’t slam on her brakes in a panic causing us to be rear-ended at highway speeds. She remained calm enough to slow us down into a gentle collision. Sure the merging car crashed into us. And yes, we were all shook up and both cars sustained damage. But it could have been so much worse.
And there it was, clear as the squashed up quarter-panel and the badly bent passenger doorframe. Clear as the light of day that we all walked away into.
It is a great day to be alive. Every. Single. Day.
Tuesday, July 6, 2010
More Memories
After recording a video sharing my “Favorite 3-Day Moment” with John of 60Miles, I started reflecting on more favorite memories. Here’s another favorite memory, this one from crewing in 2005.
In 2005, Matt and I were crewing the Boston 3Day. The weather was icky: it was cool and rainy and windy. By the end of the day, our pants were stuck to our skin and our throats were hoarse from cheering and breathing in the raw New England air all day. Pouring water and Gatorade all day in the dreary grey day didn’t dampen the spirits in our Pit Stop and we were still laughing as we rode our van back into camp. Once back in camp, we were met by chaos as the announcement had been made that Tent City was being replaced with indoor housing. Our home for the night was an old army base, and walkers were being housed in one building and crew in another. The big dining tent and the shower trucks were set up near the walker’s building, across the compound from where crew were being housed. It took a while to get our bearings. Once we figured out where we needed to be, it was just another 3-Day adventure.
We found our gear and showered and explored the halls of our camp-for-the-night. Finally, we were settling down to our corner of the gymnasium before going to get dinner. It was about 7:30 and I was really starting to feel effects of being on the go for more than 14 hours. I stretched out on the sleeping bag for a moment and looked over to see another woman nearby. I smiled and said hello. She was hunkered down into her sleeping bag. She looked tiny and worn down. I asked her what crew she was on and she told us that she was actually a walker, but was staying in the crew building to be with her partner, but he was still working. She was cold and exhausted and said she needed to rest before she could even think about walking across the camp to get dinner. I looked over at Matt and knew we were sharing the same thought. I smiled broadly and told her to close her eyes and rest and that I was sure she’d feel better soon.
Matt and I walked across camp, collected everything we needed, and brought her a big tray of hot dinner that she could eat right there. She was so thankful for her dinner in bed that she kept calling us her angels. We didn’t know then that she was a survivor. We didn’t know then that she had just barely finished chemo treatment. We didn’t know then that she wasn’t going to see her partner for another 4 hours as his crew was called into overtime hours. We didn’t know then that she was probably close enough to dehydration that the walk to the dining tent would have knocked her out.
All we knew then was that she was more tired than we were and that we could give her what she needed. We sat with her while she ate and then said goodnight as we finally made our way to the tent for our own supper. My own dinner tasted especially good that night; and the sleep I had that night on the floor of that gym was particularly restful. People say that helping others is it’s own reward. Crewing the 3-Day is certainly a tribute to that concept. But bringing dinner to the walker that night went far beyond walker and crew; and it had deeper meaning than just how we treat one another during the 3-Day.
It all comes down to this: if you can do something for someone else, is there really ever any reason not to?
In 2005, Matt and I were crewing the Boston 3Day. The weather was icky: it was cool and rainy and windy. By the end of the day, our pants were stuck to our skin and our throats were hoarse from cheering and breathing in the raw New England air all day. Pouring water and Gatorade all day in the dreary grey day didn’t dampen the spirits in our Pit Stop and we were still laughing as we rode our van back into camp. Once back in camp, we were met by chaos as the announcement had been made that Tent City was being replaced with indoor housing. Our home for the night was an old army base, and walkers were being housed in one building and crew in another. The big dining tent and the shower trucks were set up near the walker’s building, across the compound from where crew were being housed. It took a while to get our bearings. Once we figured out where we needed to be, it was just another 3-Day adventure.
We found our gear and showered and explored the halls of our camp-for-the-night. Finally, we were settling down to our corner of the gymnasium before going to get dinner. It was about 7:30 and I was really starting to feel effects of being on the go for more than 14 hours. I stretched out on the sleeping bag for a moment and looked over to see another woman nearby. I smiled and said hello. She was hunkered down into her sleeping bag. She looked tiny and worn down. I asked her what crew she was on and she told us that she was actually a walker, but was staying in the crew building to be with her partner, but he was still working. She was cold and exhausted and said she needed to rest before she could even think about walking across the camp to get dinner. I looked over at Matt and knew we were sharing the same thought. I smiled broadly and told her to close her eyes and rest and that I was sure she’d feel better soon.
Matt and I walked across camp, collected everything we needed, and brought her a big tray of hot dinner that she could eat right there. She was so thankful for her dinner in bed that she kept calling us her angels. We didn’t know then that she was a survivor. We didn’t know then that she had just barely finished chemo treatment. We didn’t know then that she wasn’t going to see her partner for another 4 hours as his crew was called into overtime hours. We didn’t know then that she was probably close enough to dehydration that the walk to the dining tent would have knocked her out.
All we knew then was that she was more tired than we were and that we could give her what she needed. We sat with her while she ate and then said goodnight as we finally made our way to the tent for our own supper. My own dinner tasted especially good that night; and the sleep I had that night on the floor of that gym was particularly restful. People say that helping others is it’s own reward. Crewing the 3-Day is certainly a tribute to that concept. But bringing dinner to the walker that night went far beyond walker and crew; and it had deeper meaning than just how we treat one another during the 3-Day.
It all comes down to this: if you can do something for someone else, is there really ever any reason not to?
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