Whenever Matt and I are walking, we’re on the lookout for critters: bunnies, squirrels, birds, chipmunks, groundhogs, or whatever we are lucky enough to spot. We have a similar way of looking at the world and can often pass several miles talking about the critters we’ve seen or telling stories from their viewpoint. It can get pretty amusing when we start imagining the conversations that the critters might be having about us. This way of seeing the world is something we have in common, and it is fortunate that we both love finding bits of nature to catch our eyes and motivate our walks. If just one of us was stopping to look at little things along the way, I imagine that the other one might become impatient. Instead, we are each able to inspire one another to keep a watchful eye on fields and woods.
A few weeks ago, we were on an 8-mile training walk and we stopped at about Mile 3 to check on a puddle-y pond that Matt has, for years, insisted is filled with frogs. We have repeatedly checked this little pond and he always insists that there are frogs there, but never had we spotted one. That changed for us last Saturday. I’m glad that he is so much more patient than I am when it comes to waiting for the critters. We stopped along the bike path and leaned hopefully onto the fence that overlooks this little puddle of water.
We watched the water for a few minutes and I was ready to give up, repeating - as I have on many occasions - that there are no frogs in this not-really-a-pond. But Matt grabbed my arm just as I was ready to walk away, and he pointed. It took several seconds for my eyes to adjust before I spotted the frog, but sure enough there he was. Within minutes, we were registering a tally and grinning like little kids. We found 8 frogs that afternoon and stayed watching them for about 20 minutes while folks whizzed by on their bikes and roller blades, oblivious to the froggy haven that we had discovered. Eventually we pulled ourselves away and walked the rest of our miles, engaged and renewed by the strength that watching those frogs had invested in us.
Not everyone is motivated by frog-power, but here is where I am going to suggest that maybe you should be. Inspired by the beauty of nature, I am motivated to be my best self. But there was something more happening for me as I watched those frogs do almost nothing as they floated in their puddle. The following Saturday, when we discovered 7 tiny salamanders alongside the path, I felt that same inspiration building in me again. A well of emotion and motivation invigorates me when we spot critters. That day, I decided it was time to think about what the inspiration is that I am finding from these small living things.
Every time that I stop and appreciate a simple critter living its life, I am rejoicing in all of life. That’s why it has become an important aspect of my training walks. Every 3Day event in which I participate – as a walker or as crew – is an opportunity for me to focus on life and living. My commitment to the 3Day is a dedication to the value of life, and to the hope that someday no more lives will be lost to breast cancer.
Collecting an inventory of critters while I train helps remind me of the reasons that I walk in a way that feels very tangible for me. I am watching for frogs to honor the memory of being at the lake with my friend, Mary Kay, who lost her fight with breast cancer almost 8 years ago. I am counting the salamanders for the woman who is lying on her couch counting ceiling tiles while she recovers from this week’s chemo. I am laughing at the antics of the squirrels for the little boy who wishes his mom were there to laugh at the Saturday morning cartoons with him. I am grinning at the chipmunks dancing along the bike path to remember the man who is driving his daughter home from her first dance alone. When I am standing mesmerized by a bird I have never seen before, I honor the bride whose mother isn’t there to see her wedding finery. When I rejoice in seeing the first bunnies of spring, I am celebrating my friend, Diane, a two-time survivor and the spirit that gets all creatures through the winters of their lives.
The suggestion that one should ‘stop and smell the flowers’ is valid and valuable advice. However, I caution you against thinking that is the only way to engage with the natural world. Simply smelling the flowers is not enough. You need to look at them and hold them and think about what the flowers really mean. And so, I offer this new twist on the old adage, “Stop and look for frogs.” Maybe it won’t be frogs that you find for your inspiration. But find something that helps you to be reminded that we are in this for very big reasons, even if you are reminded by something small.
Tuesday, May 11, 2010
Thursday, May 6, 2010
Do Something Amazing
This past Sunday, we volunteered at The Preview Expo for the Boston 3Day. Here it is, my tenth year of walking and crewing and I have finally attended my first Expo. I had no idea what I’d been missing. As we drove east early Sunday morning, I reflected aloud that I felt happy that we were driving towards “3Day-land”. I was feeling glad that we had volunteered to spend our day at the Expo. I felt happy knowing that we were doing what we could to help with an event that means so much to us. I could feel the joyful expectation rise within me that we were heading into 3Day-land, and therefore something amazing was going to happen.
Back in 2001, in preparation for my first walk, I read every inch of the information packet and felt well prepared for my first 3Day experience. I don’t even know if there were Expos back then; but if there was, I missed it. And in the years since then, I figured that I already knew what to expect and therefore didn’t “need” the Expo. I assumed that the Expo was just for first-timers seeking a little extra something. On Sunday, I discovered that there are all sorts of reasons to go to an Expo.
The Expo is indeed a great resource for new walkers and crew hoping to learn more about the event. At the Expo, attendees circulated between a number of small rooms and all around one large room, stopping to look at various exhibits about aspects of the 3Day. Participants could practice setting up and taking down pink tents. They could look at the tents and imagine crawling into them at the end of a long but glorious day of walking or crewing. There were workshops on blister care and fundraising and packing. There were tables filled with photo albums of past events. There were slide shows and sign-making materials. You could even write yourself a letter and the Komen folks will keep it safe and deliver it to you in camp during your 3Day.
At Sunday’s Expo, my role as a volunteer was “manning” the crew table. The table is intended to be a location for new crew (there to attend Crew 101) to stop by and ask questions. I’m not sure if it was because I have a carnival barker attitude or because I got to stand near some of the coolest graphics and signs, but I had a lot of walkers stopping to visit.
One of the signs at “my” table was a graphic presentation of “camp”. It’s a poster that the 3Day folks can use at every Expo. It represents a general sense of what is included in every camp --- like the trucks and the showers and the dining tent and the porta-potties and the rows and rows of pink tents. Apparently, if you are new to the 3Day world, it is a very intriguing poster. Alongside this map was a flow chart of the three days, starting with Opening Ceremony and moving through the pit stops and Camp through all three days and on to Closing Ceremony.
Lots of people stopped to look at the posters and then stayed to ask questions about what they should expect on the event and in camp. I loved all the chances I had to talk and to answer questions. I do love talking about The 3Day and I appreciated the opportunity to meet so many excited walkers and crew. Over and over again, I felt the connection and the joy that is, for me, a part of each 3Day. I had fun answering questions. And I left fortunate to be given the opening to really listen to people’s fears and expectations. And just as I have experienced on the actual 3Day, I met some people who will probably be in my heart forever. Let me tell you about one of them.
I hope that I will get to see Pat again. She stopped by my table about an hour into the Expo. Pat is an older woman, around 65 and a bit overweight. When I first spotted her, she hesitantly stood looking at the posters. Her husband stood beside her, hovering protectively, although he seemed older and perhaps more frail than she. I smiled and launched into my best “what can I help you with today”. She shrugged and smiled. I tried again, “First time?” She nodded. I introduced myself and she quietly returned the introduction but still just numbly stared at the map and flow chart. I tried another foray, “Are you going to be walking here in Boston?” That was the opening she needed and she began to explain that she was registered to walk, but was starting to fear whether she would physically be able to do it. She said she had some medical concerns and just didn’t know if it was more than she could do.
After finally handing me her fears, she looked at me expectantly and waited. It was a poignant moment. I wanted so much to be able to give her just the right answer. Having walked and crewed so many times, I felt well prepared to consider her question. I asked her what her physician thought. She said that he thought she should give it her best try. I smiled broadly and said that was my exact advise as well. I spent several minutes talking about the details of the event itself, using my handy flow chart poster as a reference. I explained that as a walker she would have many opportunities to rest, or to take a ride from a sweep van and walk only as much as she felt she really could. I explained that there would be lots of people on the event working extra hard to support her. I emphasized that she could train with a modified event in mind. Using the flow chart, I demonstrated that each 20-mile day is actually a bunch of 3 or 4-mile walks, with a pit stop at the end of each “short walk”.
I rested my hand on Pat’s arm and said, “You might not walk all 60 miles, but at the end of every day, you will know that you walked as far as you could. And you will know that you walked a whole lot farther than if you had just said ‘This is more than I can do’. At the end of the weekend,” I assured her, “You will know that you did something amazing.” I stopped talking and looked into her eyes and saw that they were welling up. I tried to glance away to avoid breaking down myself, but when my eyes moved past hers, I connected with her husband. He had been quietly standing just outside the circle of confidence that Pat and I were sharing. I looked at him now to see tears rolling down his face. The three of us stood there for a moment, connected by something deeper than my writing can embrace.
After a few moments, Pat smiled and thanked me. She asked if I was walking, and I explained that I would be volunteering on the third day of her Boston walk before going on to crew in Chicago. I will be walking as well, but not until October in DC. She smiled, with her eyes still glistening and threatening to tear up again, she said, “I sure hope I see you on that third day. I will want to thank you for helping me to walk.”
What I shared with Pat at the Expo is an important message for all of us. No matter how far we go, we should be able to say at the end of the day, “I have done as much as I could. I have done something amazing.”
Go to an Expo --- learn what you can, share what you can, talk to everyone you meet. Then go do something amazing.
Back in 2001, in preparation for my first walk, I read every inch of the information packet and felt well prepared for my first 3Day experience. I don’t even know if there were Expos back then; but if there was, I missed it. And in the years since then, I figured that I already knew what to expect and therefore didn’t “need” the Expo. I assumed that the Expo was just for first-timers seeking a little extra something. On Sunday, I discovered that there are all sorts of reasons to go to an Expo.
The Expo is indeed a great resource for new walkers and crew hoping to learn more about the event. At the Expo, attendees circulated between a number of small rooms and all around one large room, stopping to look at various exhibits about aspects of the 3Day. Participants could practice setting up and taking down pink tents. They could look at the tents and imagine crawling into them at the end of a long but glorious day of walking or crewing. There were workshops on blister care and fundraising and packing. There were tables filled with photo albums of past events. There were slide shows and sign-making materials. You could even write yourself a letter and the Komen folks will keep it safe and deliver it to you in camp during your 3Day.
At Sunday’s Expo, my role as a volunteer was “manning” the crew table. The table is intended to be a location for new crew (there to attend Crew 101) to stop by and ask questions. I’m not sure if it was because I have a carnival barker attitude or because I got to stand near some of the coolest graphics and signs, but I had a lot of walkers stopping to visit.
One of the signs at “my” table was a graphic presentation of “camp”. It’s a poster that the 3Day folks can use at every Expo. It represents a general sense of what is included in every camp --- like the trucks and the showers and the dining tent and the porta-potties and the rows and rows of pink tents. Apparently, if you are new to the 3Day world, it is a very intriguing poster. Alongside this map was a flow chart of the three days, starting with Opening Ceremony and moving through the pit stops and Camp through all three days and on to Closing Ceremony.
Lots of people stopped to look at the posters and then stayed to ask questions about what they should expect on the event and in camp. I loved all the chances I had to talk and to answer questions. I do love talking about The 3Day and I appreciated the opportunity to meet so many excited walkers and crew. Over and over again, I felt the connection and the joy that is, for me, a part of each 3Day. I had fun answering questions. And I left fortunate to be given the opening to really listen to people’s fears and expectations. And just as I have experienced on the actual 3Day, I met some people who will probably be in my heart forever. Let me tell you about one of them.
I hope that I will get to see Pat again. She stopped by my table about an hour into the Expo. Pat is an older woman, around 65 and a bit overweight. When I first spotted her, she hesitantly stood looking at the posters. Her husband stood beside her, hovering protectively, although he seemed older and perhaps more frail than she. I smiled and launched into my best “what can I help you with today”. She shrugged and smiled. I tried again, “First time?” She nodded. I introduced myself and she quietly returned the introduction but still just numbly stared at the map and flow chart. I tried another foray, “Are you going to be walking here in Boston?” That was the opening she needed and she began to explain that she was registered to walk, but was starting to fear whether she would physically be able to do it. She said she had some medical concerns and just didn’t know if it was more than she could do.
After finally handing me her fears, she looked at me expectantly and waited. It was a poignant moment. I wanted so much to be able to give her just the right answer. Having walked and crewed so many times, I felt well prepared to consider her question. I asked her what her physician thought. She said that he thought she should give it her best try. I smiled broadly and said that was my exact advise as well. I spent several minutes talking about the details of the event itself, using my handy flow chart poster as a reference. I explained that as a walker she would have many opportunities to rest, or to take a ride from a sweep van and walk only as much as she felt she really could. I explained that there would be lots of people on the event working extra hard to support her. I emphasized that she could train with a modified event in mind. Using the flow chart, I demonstrated that each 20-mile day is actually a bunch of 3 or 4-mile walks, with a pit stop at the end of each “short walk”.
I rested my hand on Pat’s arm and said, “You might not walk all 60 miles, but at the end of every day, you will know that you walked as far as you could. And you will know that you walked a whole lot farther than if you had just said ‘This is more than I can do’. At the end of the weekend,” I assured her, “You will know that you did something amazing.” I stopped talking and looked into her eyes and saw that they were welling up. I tried to glance away to avoid breaking down myself, but when my eyes moved past hers, I connected with her husband. He had been quietly standing just outside the circle of confidence that Pat and I were sharing. I looked at him now to see tears rolling down his face. The three of us stood there for a moment, connected by something deeper than my writing can embrace.
After a few moments, Pat smiled and thanked me. She asked if I was walking, and I explained that I would be volunteering on the third day of her Boston walk before going on to crew in Chicago. I will be walking as well, but not until October in DC. She smiled, with her eyes still glistening and threatening to tear up again, she said, “I sure hope I see you on that third day. I will want to thank you for helping me to walk.”
What I shared with Pat at the Expo is an important message for all of us. No matter how far we go, we should be able to say at the end of the day, “I have done as much as I could. I have done something amazing.”
Go to an Expo --- learn what you can, share what you can, talk to everyone you meet. Then go do something amazing.
Wednesday, April 21, 2010
Self-made Promises
The other morning, I visited my local drive-up coffee hut. It’s a tiny little one-room shack, reminding me - and those of us old enough to recall them - of a Fotomat booth. There’s just enough space inside for an espresso machine, a fridge and the nice man, Scott, who appears at the window with a bright smile each time I arrive. This morning, he came to the window, already tamping the espresso for my latte. He smiled and said, “skim latte, right?” I smiled my agreement and he went about preparing my coffee. I sat back in my car and reveled in the warm feeling of being recognized.
When someone greets us with a smile, and a “Your usual?” it makes us feel important, right? That acknowledgement and recognition makes us feel special. The reality is that all it means is that I drink the same thing all the time, I go to the same place often enough, and the guy that works there is good at his job. But there is another reality. I revel in the feeling of being known. Of course, the fact that Scott knows how I like my coffee doesn’t really mean that he knows me, but it does trigger that feeling. And I have come to learn that, for me, being known is deeply valued thing. I think it is for all of us.
I first came to a place of feeling known during my first 3Day Walk in Boston in 2001.
During the year leading up to my first 3Day Walk, I was facing some big questions about who I was and how I was living in the world. One of the things I was realizing was that I didn’t like the way I felt about myself. I had begun to come to a recognition that I often felt as though I was more separate from others than I wished. I had started to notice that there were many times that I would feel that all around me were people connecting with one another while I stood outside the circle, wishing I was inside the circle, but equally sure that those people inside the circle didn’t even know I was there. I knew I didn’t want my life to keep feeling that way, and I became determined to change it.
During the months of training for my first 3Day, I began to think about ways that I could make even more meaning of the event for myself. And so, I made myself a promise to be outgoing and have confidence that the people I was meeting were going to be interested in knowing me. It was an important self-promise, the words in my head were “whoever you meet will be as interested in meeting you as you are in meeting them.” This wasn’t really how I saw myself in the world, but it was how I wanted to be. It scared me a bit to try and be this person. But I also knew that I really did believe that I was interesting. I really believed that I had interesting things to say. But at the same time, I wasn’t very good at trusting that anyone would really be all that interested in listening to me. But that was who I wanted to be. And so I made myself that promise. I figured that it was just three days, and I could do anything for 3Days. It’s funny, I was more frightened about living up to that promise than I was about walking 60 miles.
And so, for 3 days, I met people – and really the world – believing in myself and believing that people wanted to know me. I listened intently to each person that I met. I responded to those people with intention. I spoke up, I shared stories about myself and about my life, and I rejoiced in becoming known. Those 3 days were the start of a gigantic journey. I journeyed 60 miles on foot and a lifetime in my heart. What I discovered was that I can be known. I can be the person I wanted to be. I don’t have to be outside of any circles.
And here’s the big lesson in all this. Maybe you are preparing right now for your first 3Day Walk. Maybe you are preparing for your tenth. Maybe you are a dedicated 3Day Crew member. Maybe you are a 3Day supporter, or maybe you are just curious. It doesn’t matter, really. What matters is this: in life, you must consider who you are and who you hope to be. And then go out and become that person. The 3Day is the ideal community within which to do this, because the people on the event are all committed to a brighter world. But really, the opportunities to reach your own goals exist everywhere in our lives. Whether it is The 3day, or simply the next three days of your life – whichever it is, you can make yourself any promise you need to. You deserve to be the person you dream of being. We all do.
When someone greets us with a smile, and a “Your usual?” it makes us feel important, right? That acknowledgement and recognition makes us feel special. The reality is that all it means is that I drink the same thing all the time, I go to the same place often enough, and the guy that works there is good at his job. But there is another reality. I revel in the feeling of being known. Of course, the fact that Scott knows how I like my coffee doesn’t really mean that he knows me, but it does trigger that feeling. And I have come to learn that, for me, being known is deeply valued thing. I think it is for all of us.
I first came to a place of feeling known during my first 3Day Walk in Boston in 2001.
During the year leading up to my first 3Day Walk, I was facing some big questions about who I was and how I was living in the world. One of the things I was realizing was that I didn’t like the way I felt about myself. I had begun to come to a recognition that I often felt as though I was more separate from others than I wished. I had started to notice that there were many times that I would feel that all around me were people connecting with one another while I stood outside the circle, wishing I was inside the circle, but equally sure that those people inside the circle didn’t even know I was there. I knew I didn’t want my life to keep feeling that way, and I became determined to change it.
During the months of training for my first 3Day, I began to think about ways that I could make even more meaning of the event for myself. And so, I made myself a promise to be outgoing and have confidence that the people I was meeting were going to be interested in knowing me. It was an important self-promise, the words in my head were “whoever you meet will be as interested in meeting you as you are in meeting them.” This wasn’t really how I saw myself in the world, but it was how I wanted to be. It scared me a bit to try and be this person. But I also knew that I really did believe that I was interesting. I really believed that I had interesting things to say. But at the same time, I wasn’t very good at trusting that anyone would really be all that interested in listening to me. But that was who I wanted to be. And so I made myself that promise. I figured that it was just three days, and I could do anything for 3Days. It’s funny, I was more frightened about living up to that promise than I was about walking 60 miles.
And so, for 3 days, I met people – and really the world – believing in myself and believing that people wanted to know me. I listened intently to each person that I met. I responded to those people with intention. I spoke up, I shared stories about myself and about my life, and I rejoiced in becoming known. Those 3 days were the start of a gigantic journey. I journeyed 60 miles on foot and a lifetime in my heart. What I discovered was that I can be known. I can be the person I wanted to be. I don’t have to be outside of any circles.
And here’s the big lesson in all this. Maybe you are preparing right now for your first 3Day Walk. Maybe you are preparing for your tenth. Maybe you are a dedicated 3Day Crew member. Maybe you are a 3Day supporter, or maybe you are just curious. It doesn’t matter, really. What matters is this: in life, you must consider who you are and who you hope to be. And then go out and become that person. The 3Day is the ideal community within which to do this, because the people on the event are all committed to a brighter world. But really, the opportunities to reach your own goals exist everywhere in our lives. Whether it is The 3day, or simply the next three days of your life – whichever it is, you can make yourself any promise you need to. You deserve to be the person you dream of being. We all do.
Wednesday, April 14, 2010
Every Minute Counts
Last night, I decided it was time to write a new fundraising letter. Each year, I write a few different letters, depending on how I’m approaching our fundraising. It’s important to change it up, and after 10 years, that sometimes gets difficult. After all, how many different ways are there to say, “Please help”?
For inspiration for my new letter, I decided to review the facts sheet that the Komen folks sent to me when I agreed to be an “online ambassador”. One fact I hadn’t seen before reached out and hit me in the face.
>> A person dies from breast cancer every 68 seconds. <<
68 seconds?! Every minute another person dies from breast cancer.
In the ten minutes that it took to brew my coffee this morning, someone’s daughter died. A young man lost his only sister. A husband held his dying partner’s hand. An older woman had to tell her granddaughter that mommy wasn’t coming home. A woman said goodbye to her brother forever. A man died quietly, ashamed of his body. A single mother died wondering who would care for her children. A woman with no family died alone in a sterile hospital room. A family gathered around their matriarch to say goodbye. Somebody’s best friend died. All that loss while I waited for my coffee.
This litany of loss could be devastatingly depressing. But it doesn’t have to be. Instead, I choose to use it to inspire me to be stronger in my training and more intentional in my fundraising. Every minute that I am walking in The 3Day Walk, I am saving lives and supporting people who are living with breast cancer. By raising money with my footsteps, my minutes are counting in this battle. I am waging war by using my feet, and engaging the hearts – and wallets – of my family and friends.
Walking at full speed, it would take me about 950 minutes to walk 60 miles. The 60 miles of The 3Day will actually take a lot longer than that because I need to stop and stretch and eat snacks and visit those beautiful porta-potties. So, it will take me around 1500 minutes of walking. And in those 1500 minutes, all across the world, 1500 more people will die from breast cancer. But in those same 1500 minutes, the money that my feet helped to raise will help to change the face of the disease.
I have raised at least $3000 each of the years that I have walked, so each minute that I walk is worth two more dollars towards the cause. Two dollars might not sound like much but those dollars really do add up. Each minute that I walk, I will be walking with thousands of other people, so my dollars are matched by all those other dollars.
Just last year alone, our minutes were part of $93 million in grants offered to 1900 community organizations. In 2009, our minutes helped 3.9 million people to receive breast cancer education materials. Our minutes helped more than 260,000 women to receive a potentially life-saving mammogram. Our minutes helped approximately 5,000 people to be diagnosed with breast cancer who otherwise may not have been diagnosed, and our minutes helped more than 100,000 women to benefit from treatment assistance.
My minutes, multiplied by the thousands of 3Day Walkers and Crew in fifteen cities this year, will lead the fight to change the statistics and transform the litany of loss to a celebration of hope.
Another person dies from breast cancer every minute? That may be true, but it is also true that every minute, there are also thousands of us all across the world, walking towards a different future. We all get to decide which minutes of our lives to make count. Make your minutes count.
For inspiration for my new letter, I decided to review the facts sheet that the Komen folks sent to me when I agreed to be an “online ambassador”. One fact I hadn’t seen before reached out and hit me in the face.
>> A person dies from breast cancer every 68 seconds. <<
68 seconds?! Every minute another person dies from breast cancer.
In the ten minutes that it took to brew my coffee this morning, someone’s daughter died. A young man lost his only sister. A husband held his dying partner’s hand. An older woman had to tell her granddaughter that mommy wasn’t coming home. A woman said goodbye to her brother forever. A man died quietly, ashamed of his body. A single mother died wondering who would care for her children. A woman with no family died alone in a sterile hospital room. A family gathered around their matriarch to say goodbye. Somebody’s best friend died. All that loss while I waited for my coffee.
This litany of loss could be devastatingly depressing. But it doesn’t have to be. Instead, I choose to use it to inspire me to be stronger in my training and more intentional in my fundraising. Every minute that I am walking in The 3Day Walk, I am saving lives and supporting people who are living with breast cancer. By raising money with my footsteps, my minutes are counting in this battle. I am waging war by using my feet, and engaging the hearts – and wallets – of my family and friends.
Walking at full speed, it would take me about 950 minutes to walk 60 miles. The 60 miles of The 3Day will actually take a lot longer than that because I need to stop and stretch and eat snacks and visit those beautiful porta-potties. So, it will take me around 1500 minutes of walking. And in those 1500 minutes, all across the world, 1500 more people will die from breast cancer. But in those same 1500 minutes, the money that my feet helped to raise will help to change the face of the disease.
I have raised at least $3000 each of the years that I have walked, so each minute that I walk is worth two more dollars towards the cause. Two dollars might not sound like much but those dollars really do add up. Each minute that I walk, I will be walking with thousands of other people, so my dollars are matched by all those other dollars.
Just last year alone, our minutes were part of $93 million in grants offered to 1900 community organizations. In 2009, our minutes helped 3.9 million people to receive breast cancer education materials. Our minutes helped more than 260,000 women to receive a potentially life-saving mammogram. Our minutes helped approximately 5,000 people to be diagnosed with breast cancer who otherwise may not have been diagnosed, and our minutes helped more than 100,000 women to benefit from treatment assistance.
My minutes, multiplied by the thousands of 3Day Walkers and Crew in fifteen cities this year, will lead the fight to change the statistics and transform the litany of loss to a celebration of hope.
Another person dies from breast cancer every minute? That may be true, but it is also true that every minute, there are also thousands of us all across the world, walking towards a different future. We all get to decide which minutes of our lives to make count. Make your minutes count.
Friday, April 9, 2010
It's Just a Walk
What keeps you going when life throws a challenge in your path? Some days, the challenge is small, like an alarm clock that didn’t sound or a lunchbox strap that breaks just as you walk out the door. Other days, the challenge is daunting, like the phone call from your best friend telling you that her marriage is ending, or learning that your friend has just found out that breast cancer has returned after 10 years. No matter what it is you face, it’s important to have a way to manage in challenging times.
A mantra gleaned from my first 3Day keeps me going when life’s challenges get tough.
My first 3Day Walk was in Boston in 2001. I was walking to honor a brave friend. Mary Kaye was enduring chemo, surgery and radiation - all within one short year after she had lost her husband to pancreatic cancer. Every few weeks, I was driving the four hours to south Jersey to hold Mary Kaye’s hands and help care for her kids during and following her treatments. I helped by sweeping her floors and holding what was left of her hair away from her face while she vomited. I offered rides to her kids and worked to distract them from their fears and confusion. I sat with Mar and watched movies and read books aloud. Generally speaking, I did whatever I could to be a friend.
Meanwhile, I was training my body and raising money. I was feeling well prepared for my first event. I had trained to the specific parameters of the training guidelines. I had walked at least twenty or thirty miles every week. I had walked the requisite back-to-back training walk a few weeks before the event. I was physically ready for this walk.
So there I was on the first day of my first event, and over the course of that first 20-mile day, my left knee - despite miles and miles of training - became inflamed. By the end of the day, I wondered whether I would be able to finish all three days. I spent the evening nursing my knee and visiting the Medical Tent. With the help of a gifted Physical Therapist, and plenty of pain medication, I was able to get up and walk the next day.
Not long into that second day, the swelling in my knee returned, and along with the inflammation came a jarring pain with each step that I took. I really felt like giving in and giving up. And then I turned to the woman I was walking with and said, “It’s not really that bad. It’s just putting one foot in front of the other, over and over again. It’s just a walk.”
That day on the Walk, I was ready to give up. Then I thought of Mar (and all those other fighters and survivors) who didn't have the choice to just give in. Those words came into my head and became a mantra that kept me walking to complete all sixty miles. Those words and that memory have nurtured me since in all my tough times.
"It’s just a walk."
It isn’t chemo. It isn’t losing your hair or losing parts of your body. It isn’t looking at the fear of loss in your childrens' eyes.
It’s just a walk.
It isn’t sleepless nights wondering whether to try chemo or radiation or surgery. It isn’t spending day after day thankful just to be able to get out of bed. It isn’t worrying about who will care for your kids if you don’t make it.
It’s just a walk.
Those words, “it’s just a walk,” have carried me through some of the biggest and most frightening challenges in life. I am reminded that we each carry within us the strength to do more than we think we can. And I am reminded that whatever we are challenged to do, we can definitely do it. Whatever it is isn’t really as scary or as difficult as we think it is. In so many ways, it’s just walk.
So whatever it is - get up, get out there and face it. Just start with the first step. Once you get started, it’s really just a walk.
A mantra gleaned from my first 3Day keeps me going when life’s challenges get tough.
My first 3Day Walk was in Boston in 2001. I was walking to honor a brave friend. Mary Kaye was enduring chemo, surgery and radiation - all within one short year after she had lost her husband to pancreatic cancer. Every few weeks, I was driving the four hours to south Jersey to hold Mary Kaye’s hands and help care for her kids during and following her treatments. I helped by sweeping her floors and holding what was left of her hair away from her face while she vomited. I offered rides to her kids and worked to distract them from their fears and confusion. I sat with Mar and watched movies and read books aloud. Generally speaking, I did whatever I could to be a friend.
Meanwhile, I was training my body and raising money. I was feeling well prepared for my first event. I had trained to the specific parameters of the training guidelines. I had walked at least twenty or thirty miles every week. I had walked the requisite back-to-back training walk a few weeks before the event. I was physically ready for this walk.
So there I was on the first day of my first event, and over the course of that first 20-mile day, my left knee - despite miles and miles of training - became inflamed. By the end of the day, I wondered whether I would be able to finish all three days. I spent the evening nursing my knee and visiting the Medical Tent. With the help of a gifted Physical Therapist, and plenty of pain medication, I was able to get up and walk the next day.
Not long into that second day, the swelling in my knee returned, and along with the inflammation came a jarring pain with each step that I took. I really felt like giving in and giving up. And then I turned to the woman I was walking with and said, “It’s not really that bad. It’s just putting one foot in front of the other, over and over again. It’s just a walk.”
That day on the Walk, I was ready to give up. Then I thought of Mar (and all those other fighters and survivors) who didn't have the choice to just give in. Those words came into my head and became a mantra that kept me walking to complete all sixty miles. Those words and that memory have nurtured me since in all my tough times.
"It’s just a walk."
It isn’t chemo. It isn’t losing your hair or losing parts of your body. It isn’t looking at the fear of loss in your childrens' eyes.
It’s just a walk.
It isn’t sleepless nights wondering whether to try chemo or radiation or surgery. It isn’t spending day after day thankful just to be able to get out of bed. It isn’t worrying about who will care for your kids if you don’t make it.
It’s just a walk.
Those words, “it’s just a walk,” have carried me through some of the biggest and most frightening challenges in life. I am reminded that we each carry within us the strength to do more than we think we can. And I am reminded that whatever we are challenged to do, we can definitely do it. Whatever it is isn’t really as scary or as difficult as we think it is. In so many ways, it’s just walk.
So whatever it is - get up, get out there and face it. Just start with the first step. Once you get started, it’s really just a walk.
Friday, April 2, 2010
Lessons from Driving School
My daughter is almost 16 and has started taking classes at driving school. In our home state of Massachusetts, that means that she is attending 30 hours of classroom instruction, and that I, as her parent, was required to attend a parents’ driving class.
The instructor taught us something this week that was a revelation to me as a driver as well as offering me an insight into my life.
“When you are approaching a stop sign,” she asked, “where are you looking?”
Along with most of the other parents in the room, I thought about it and my answer was that I would be looking at the stop sign. The instructor smiled knowingly and demonstrated her thoughts on the subject. Standing at the front of the class, with her hands extended in front of her as though driving an invisible car, she processed across the front of the room, and as she approached her imaginary stop sign, she swung her head carefully to both the right and left. Of course! I thought, as I approach the stop sign, I am looking at the traffic to the right and left that may be approaching the same intersection. Light bulbs started popping all over the room as we all recognized this shared habit.
Immediately, I acknowledged what she was doing as something that I do myself. And I’m willing to bet that you are recognizing it in yourself as well. So far, every experienced driver that I have asked to think about it has recognized that s/he does this same thing. And I have noticed this week that even when I come to a complete stop, I still have approached the intersection by looking ahead to the left and right.
So here’s the question: if you are planning to stop at that sign, why do you need to know what is happening in the crossroad? Why does it matter? After all, you are going to stop and then look to the right and left before actually proceeding, aren’t you?
That answer is pretty clear. We are not actually going to stop unless we “have to”. The plan, at a subconscious level, is to roll through that stop sign if it looks safe to do so. The plan is to keep moving and get on to the next part of the drive as quickly as possible.
That’s where the revelation kicked in for me. The light bulb in the classroom recognizing this unsafe and unnecessary driving habit was definitely bright. But the big burst came to me when we were out for our walk this evening and I was telling Matt about my driving class revelation. We were discussing it and I said those words, “The plan is to keep moving and get onto the next part…” As I said that, I stopped walking for a second as the realization hit me as to how often in life we are doing exactly that. So many times, we are so busy looking ahead to the next crossroad of our day or our life that we don’t even see the intersection where we are.
Walking in, and crewing for, The 3Day Walks has helped me to move away from this unhealthy way of living my life. 60 miles is a lot of miles. And the only way to get through all of those miles is one step at a time. I have learned a lot about slowing down and living life one step at a time. On the 3Days of the event itself, I really do manage to be living that way. And I try very hard to live the other days of my life this way as well.
I take my time with the walk. It’s important to me to talk to lots of different people along the way, and I have met some truly inspiring people by stopping and paying attention to exactly where I am. Along the way on the 3Days, I've met people who have stayed in my life for years, including the man to whom I am now married. I've met people walking for themselves and people walking for their mother or sister. I have met a male breast cancer survivor who taught me so much about strength and passion that I had to take deep breaths to absorb the joy he felt for life. I've met people too shy to tell me their story but whose presence next to me has provided me with strength and motivation. I have met people who make me laugh and people who make me cry. If I had been walking too quickly through my 3 Days, I might have missed all those people.
Walking and crewing is an incredible opportunity to see and enjoy some of the most interesting sites. I have seen the 'Love Fountain' died bright pink and I have seen a family of immigrants weeping by the gates of a cemetery. I have seen boats in as many colors as flowers and flowers in as many colors as the rainbow. I have learned to look up and see the corner where I am standing before I take the next step. If I move too quickly, I have no idea what I might miss seeing, so I'd best slow down.
I try to remember to always look around at exactly where I am. After all, if I am worrying about what is coming next, I might miss three sweet little girls standing on the corner dressed head-to-toe in pink. By glancing ahead to the next turn in the road, I could so easily miss the sign those girls are holding up: “Our mom is our hero”. I’d hate to miss that.
Life really does move too fast. Before we know it, the baby who was just learning to walk is getting into her own car. If I don’t treat every day and every mile as if it is one of my precious 3 days, life will slip me by. I don’t need to look past the stop sign to see what is next. I really can pay attention to the moment I am in.
The next time that you are driving, pay attention to how you approach an intersection. And more importantly, once you get out of that car and walk into your day, pay attention to how you approach the intersections of your life. Remember, it is okay to stop and see exactly where you are before you need to look ahead to what is next. If we can do it on the walk, we can do it every day of our lives.
The instructor taught us something this week that was a revelation to me as a driver as well as offering me an insight into my life.
“When you are approaching a stop sign,” she asked, “where are you looking?”
Along with most of the other parents in the room, I thought about it and my answer was that I would be looking at the stop sign. The instructor smiled knowingly and demonstrated her thoughts on the subject. Standing at the front of the class, with her hands extended in front of her as though driving an invisible car, she processed across the front of the room, and as she approached her imaginary stop sign, she swung her head carefully to both the right and left. Of course! I thought, as I approach the stop sign, I am looking at the traffic to the right and left that may be approaching the same intersection. Light bulbs started popping all over the room as we all recognized this shared habit.
Immediately, I acknowledged what she was doing as something that I do myself. And I’m willing to bet that you are recognizing it in yourself as well. So far, every experienced driver that I have asked to think about it has recognized that s/he does this same thing. And I have noticed this week that even when I come to a complete stop, I still have approached the intersection by looking ahead to the left and right.
So here’s the question: if you are planning to stop at that sign, why do you need to know what is happening in the crossroad? Why does it matter? After all, you are going to stop and then look to the right and left before actually proceeding, aren’t you?
That answer is pretty clear. We are not actually going to stop unless we “have to”. The plan, at a subconscious level, is to roll through that stop sign if it looks safe to do so. The plan is to keep moving and get on to the next part of the drive as quickly as possible.
That’s where the revelation kicked in for me. The light bulb in the classroom recognizing this unsafe and unnecessary driving habit was definitely bright. But the big burst came to me when we were out for our walk this evening and I was telling Matt about my driving class revelation. We were discussing it and I said those words, “The plan is to keep moving and get onto the next part…” As I said that, I stopped walking for a second as the realization hit me as to how often in life we are doing exactly that. So many times, we are so busy looking ahead to the next crossroad of our day or our life that we don’t even see the intersection where we are.
Walking in, and crewing for, The 3Day Walks has helped me to move away from this unhealthy way of living my life. 60 miles is a lot of miles. And the only way to get through all of those miles is one step at a time. I have learned a lot about slowing down and living life one step at a time. On the 3Days of the event itself, I really do manage to be living that way. And I try very hard to live the other days of my life this way as well.
I take my time with the walk. It’s important to me to talk to lots of different people along the way, and I have met some truly inspiring people by stopping and paying attention to exactly where I am. Along the way on the 3Days, I've met people who have stayed in my life for years, including the man to whom I am now married. I've met people walking for themselves and people walking for their mother or sister. I have met a male breast cancer survivor who taught me so much about strength and passion that I had to take deep breaths to absorb the joy he felt for life. I've met people too shy to tell me their story but whose presence next to me has provided me with strength and motivation. I have met people who make me laugh and people who make me cry. If I had been walking too quickly through my 3 Days, I might have missed all those people.
Walking and crewing is an incredible opportunity to see and enjoy some of the most interesting sites. I have seen the 'Love Fountain' died bright pink and I have seen a family of immigrants weeping by the gates of a cemetery. I have seen boats in as many colors as flowers and flowers in as many colors as the rainbow. I have learned to look up and see the corner where I am standing before I take the next step. If I move too quickly, I have no idea what I might miss seeing, so I'd best slow down.
I try to remember to always look around at exactly where I am. After all, if I am worrying about what is coming next, I might miss three sweet little girls standing on the corner dressed head-to-toe in pink. By glancing ahead to the next turn in the road, I could so easily miss the sign those girls are holding up: “Our mom is our hero”. I’d hate to miss that.
Life really does move too fast. Before we know it, the baby who was just learning to walk is getting into her own car. If I don’t treat every day and every mile as if it is one of my precious 3 days, life will slip me by. I don’t need to look past the stop sign to see what is next. I really can pay attention to the moment I am in.
The next time that you are driving, pay attention to how you approach an intersection. And more importantly, once you get out of that car and walk into your day, pay attention to how you approach the intersections of your life. Remember, it is okay to stop and see exactly where you are before you need to look ahead to what is next. If we can do it on the walk, we can do it every day of our lives.
Wednesday, March 24, 2010
What Are We Training For?
This afternoon, I walked with a friend who doesn’t walk as often as I do. As we walked, she commented on how much faster my pace was than hers and encouraged me to walk ahead of her. She suggested that I wasn’t “getting anything out of my walk,” and therefore shouldn’t be held back at her pace. I explained to her that I don’t need to walk fast or hard, I simply need to walk. In my thinking, any walk is a good walk, and any walk is training.
I walk all the time. And every time I walk, I think of it as a training walk. If it is just a mile or two, and the event is 10 months away, it is a training walk. If it is 15 miles, and the event is 3 weeks away, it’s a training walk. If I am wearing jeans and sneakers, it’s a training walk. If I am wearing all my walk gear, including a water bottle and a fanny pack, it is a training walk. You get the point, right? Every time I get my sneakers on and hit the pavement, I am training. Right now, I am training for my 12th walk (my 17th event, but crewing takes a different sort of training!). “My” 3Day is still almost 7 months away. And yet, I am training. Matt and I started training for the 2010 3Day as soon as we got home from the 2009 3Day.
Preparing for a 3Day walk takes lots and lots and lots of training. It’s not just about getting into good physical shape; it’s so much more. I think of it this way: to be ready for the 3Day, I must train my body, my head and my heart.
Train my body.
My feet and legs are going to do a lot of work in those three days. They deserve to build up to it. I have learned that my body really needs to be trained fresh year after year. Training gives my feet a chance to develop new calluses, and my leg muscles the time they need to gain the strength and endurance to go the distance. Training to walk also prepares parts of my body that can’t be trained any way other than with lots and lots of walking. For example, joints need lots of training. Given an average stride, my hip and knee joints will bend about 200,000 times each in those three days. Training for miles and miles beforehand gives them a chance to make all those bends without giving in or giving up.
Train my head.
The 3Day walk is a brainy event. I am thinking all the time out there. I’m meeting new people, hearing stories, seeing new places, and trying to focus on all of it. During my training walks, I am training my head at balancing all the opportunities that will come my way during the 3Day. When I am out on a training walk, I love to talk about past 3Day events or spend miles planning our current fundraising projects. We also try to watch the scenery around us, drawing one another’s attention to a bird or critter, or to try and find a bird based on its birdsong. Hours into a walk, my head can get tired and distracted, so I need to train myself to be focused and keep me, and those around me, safer on the actual event. Training walks prepare me for the many ways that my head will be engaged during the 3Day walk.
Train my heart.
This is probably the most important training for me, and possibly the hardest. My training walks are a chance to reflect on walks of the past, think about my reasons for walking, and prepare my heart for the work it will face during the 3Day.
I’m not talking about cardio-training, but rather about training my heart to handle the pressure that will grow inside my chest as I move through those three days. My emotions will ebb and flow from joy and elation to fear and sadness in an unpredictable unending circle. Each training walk is an opportunity to think about all the reasons I have for being a part of the 3Day, and to train my heart for the emotions of the event.
Here’s what I am training my heart to be ready for:
First thing in the morning, my heart will work hard as I see the smiling faces of total strangers waiting at the starting gate to cheer for the walkers. They’ll be yelling and handing out high-fives. All I’ll be doing is walking, and yet these people will make me feel like I am a true hero.
The day will move forward and before I know it, the young woman walking alongside me will call my heart into action. She’ll be telling me her story. She’s 20 years my junior and yet she has already lost her sister, her mom, and last spring, her breasts. And here she is walking in this event. My heart will be in full swing as she will stop, take my hand, and thank me (who she has just met) for my commitment. She will be thanking me?! Okay, heart – keep me moving.
After lunch, my heart will be taking a rest as I walk alone for a few miles. I’ll be dog-tired, my dogs will be barking and I’ll be looking dog-eared. The heat and exhaustion will be sinking through me, threatening to drag me to a stop. I’ll turn the corner and see a fire truck ahead. It’ll be a big, red hook and ladder, the kind that causes young kids to dream of being firefighters. This truck’s ladder will be fully extended and I’ll see a swarm of firefighters, spending their day off dressed in pink. They’ll have made a bursting fountain of cold water to soothe the tired walkers. As groups of icy walkers laugh and dance our way through this torrent of man-made rain, I’ll hear the firefighters chanting, “3Day Walkers save lives!” Totally refreshed, my heart will gladly carry me through the next several miles. Thank you, heart – keep me going.
At the end of a long day, my body and my head will have carried me about 20 miles, but it’s my heart that will soar as I see those pink gates welcoming me into the most beautiful city I have ever seen. It looks like miles of pink tents when you see camp at the end of the day, and that sight stirs my heart with far more emotion than one expects from tents. As I approach camp, I’ll feel aware of, and connected to, every story of every walker and every crew member waiting to be a part of my community for the night. Everyone I walk past has his or her own reason for being there. Maybe they’ve lost someone or maybe they’re celebrating that nobody close to them has been struck by this disease. Maybe they’re on this journey to test their fortitude, or maybe to rejoice that they have finished chemo. I wish I had time to hear every story. But at night, as I rest my tired body in the cocoon of my pink tent, I hear the murmurs of all the walkers around me, and my heart knows that their stories have become a part of who I am. My heart rests with this knowledge and sends me off to sleep to walk again another day. This is what I have trained for.
I walk all the time. And every time I walk, I think of it as a training walk. If it is just a mile or two, and the event is 10 months away, it is a training walk. If it is 15 miles, and the event is 3 weeks away, it’s a training walk. If I am wearing jeans and sneakers, it’s a training walk. If I am wearing all my walk gear, including a water bottle and a fanny pack, it is a training walk. You get the point, right? Every time I get my sneakers on and hit the pavement, I am training. Right now, I am training for my 12th walk (my 17th event, but crewing takes a different sort of training!). “My” 3Day is still almost 7 months away. And yet, I am training. Matt and I started training for the 2010 3Day as soon as we got home from the 2009 3Day.
Preparing for a 3Day walk takes lots and lots and lots of training. It’s not just about getting into good physical shape; it’s so much more. I think of it this way: to be ready for the 3Day, I must train my body, my head and my heart.
Train my body.
My feet and legs are going to do a lot of work in those three days. They deserve to build up to it. I have learned that my body really needs to be trained fresh year after year. Training gives my feet a chance to develop new calluses, and my leg muscles the time they need to gain the strength and endurance to go the distance. Training to walk also prepares parts of my body that can’t be trained any way other than with lots and lots of walking. For example, joints need lots of training. Given an average stride, my hip and knee joints will bend about 200,000 times each in those three days. Training for miles and miles beforehand gives them a chance to make all those bends without giving in or giving up.
Train my head.
The 3Day walk is a brainy event. I am thinking all the time out there. I’m meeting new people, hearing stories, seeing new places, and trying to focus on all of it. During my training walks, I am training my head at balancing all the opportunities that will come my way during the 3Day. When I am out on a training walk, I love to talk about past 3Day events or spend miles planning our current fundraising projects. We also try to watch the scenery around us, drawing one another’s attention to a bird or critter, or to try and find a bird based on its birdsong. Hours into a walk, my head can get tired and distracted, so I need to train myself to be focused and keep me, and those around me, safer on the actual event. Training walks prepare me for the many ways that my head will be engaged during the 3Day walk.
Train my heart.
This is probably the most important training for me, and possibly the hardest. My training walks are a chance to reflect on walks of the past, think about my reasons for walking, and prepare my heart for the work it will face during the 3Day.
I’m not talking about cardio-training, but rather about training my heart to handle the pressure that will grow inside my chest as I move through those three days. My emotions will ebb and flow from joy and elation to fear and sadness in an unpredictable unending circle. Each training walk is an opportunity to think about all the reasons I have for being a part of the 3Day, and to train my heart for the emotions of the event.
Here’s what I am training my heart to be ready for:
First thing in the morning, my heart will work hard as I see the smiling faces of total strangers waiting at the starting gate to cheer for the walkers. They’ll be yelling and handing out high-fives. All I’ll be doing is walking, and yet these people will make me feel like I am a true hero.
The day will move forward and before I know it, the young woman walking alongside me will call my heart into action. She’ll be telling me her story. She’s 20 years my junior and yet she has already lost her sister, her mom, and last spring, her breasts. And here she is walking in this event. My heart will be in full swing as she will stop, take my hand, and thank me (who she has just met) for my commitment. She will be thanking me?! Okay, heart – keep me moving.
After lunch, my heart will be taking a rest as I walk alone for a few miles. I’ll be dog-tired, my dogs will be barking and I’ll be looking dog-eared. The heat and exhaustion will be sinking through me, threatening to drag me to a stop. I’ll turn the corner and see a fire truck ahead. It’ll be a big, red hook and ladder, the kind that causes young kids to dream of being firefighters. This truck’s ladder will be fully extended and I’ll see a swarm of firefighters, spending their day off dressed in pink. They’ll have made a bursting fountain of cold water to soothe the tired walkers. As groups of icy walkers laugh and dance our way through this torrent of man-made rain, I’ll hear the firefighters chanting, “3Day Walkers save lives!” Totally refreshed, my heart will gladly carry me through the next several miles. Thank you, heart – keep me going.
At the end of a long day, my body and my head will have carried me about 20 miles, but it’s my heart that will soar as I see those pink gates welcoming me into the most beautiful city I have ever seen. It looks like miles of pink tents when you see camp at the end of the day, and that sight stirs my heart with far more emotion than one expects from tents. As I approach camp, I’ll feel aware of, and connected to, every story of every walker and every crew member waiting to be a part of my community for the night. Everyone I walk past has his or her own reason for being there. Maybe they’ve lost someone or maybe they’re celebrating that nobody close to them has been struck by this disease. Maybe they’re on this journey to test their fortitude, or maybe to rejoice that they have finished chemo. I wish I had time to hear every story. But at night, as I rest my tired body in the cocoon of my pink tent, I hear the murmurs of all the walkers around me, and my heart knows that their stories have become a part of who I am. My heart rests with this knowledge and sends me off to sleep to walk again another day. This is what I have trained for.
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