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ladysprite) wrote2010-07-26 10:58 am
ladysprite) wrote2010-07-26 10:58 am
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Three Day - Day One
All right. I said there was more that I wanted to say, and I want to document this for my own memory while it's still fresh.....
The three-day starts way too darn early, so the first part of the experience was waking up at 4:30am Friday. I probably should have gotten up earlier, but that was as short as I was willing to cut my sleep cycle, not having been organized enough to go to bed at 8pm the night before.![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
tpau came over, and umbran ferried all of our stuff into the car and drove us out to Framingham.
I have to say thatumbran has truly been the unsung hero of this adventure. He has helped me with fundraising, walked with me for more miles of practice than I can count, hunted down camping gear that I didn't know I needed, woken up at insane hours to ferry me to events, and generally supported me above and beyond the call of duty.
Anyway,tpau and I were ferried to opening ceremonies and dropped off. We carted our gear to the luggage trucks and were herded into a fenced off area for walkers that looked disturbingly like a cattle pen full of pink, where we hung out, waited, and generally contributed to the uncertain, anxious, anticipatory air.
As a note, the 3 Day Walk is an amazing place to people-watch, and it tends to draw some of the most unique characters you will ever see. It's an ocean of people in pink t-shirts and tank tops, yes, but there's so much more to it than that. There are teams in their matching shirts with matching slogans, and people in tutus and tiaras. There were a dozen men from Texas who had put together a lingerie calendar for fundraising, all walking in their beauty pageant sashes and hot pink brassieres, and the soldier who had dyed his hair and mustache pink, who walked with a "Baghdad to Boston" banner on a ten-foot tall pole. People walked with plaques and signs, carried high or pinned to their shirts, or as sandwich boards. And then there were the people at the other end of the spectrum, like Team Courage, who stood out for their plain, solid-gray t-shirts and lack of any frills, decorations, or accoutrements.
Opening ceremonies were simple enough ritual - cheering, speechifying about the importance of our cause and the reasons why we walk, and raising the banner to open the event. It was still powerful enough to make me tear up, but overall the anticipation and excitement and what-happens-next were enough to overwhelm anything else, and it was standard, almost routine patter. Plus, at that point, we were still 1600 individuals, or several hundred teams. We hadn't yet become one group. That happened on the road.
Then the music started, and the walking started. One thing I realized on the walk was just how much of a difference music can make. I've always known that it's a powerful mood changer, but it can take you from 'oh god another day/mile/step' to bouncing in place and picking up your feet and grinning without even noticing. And Komen understands the power of the hook, heavy drums and bass, and the techno beat in general. I think I've heard 'I Gotta Feeling' more times this weekend than anyone other than a bar mitzvah DJ should in their lifetime.... but each time, it did it's job.
Out of the pen, onto the street, and into the first cheers of the safety and support staff, and we were grinning and nodding to each other and full of absolutely no idea what we were in for. About a half block from the starting point, I ran into a girl who was in my class in vet school - I hadn't seen her since graduation, and we just happened to find each other here. I didn't have much chance to talk to her, but it seemed like an auspicious start to the event.
A block or so after that, we had our first encounter with the Pink Angels support squad. The Pink Angels are one of the biggest walker teams, and apparently they come with their own supporters - husbands, grandparents, friends, and family who make sure to strategically position themselves at multiple places along the route and cheer on all the walkers. They also tend to wear bright pink angel costumes, complete with neon wigs, robes, and (in the case of one gentleman) big cardboard wings strapped to his arms, and carry signs saying things like 'Sweaty Blistered Women are Sexy.' They were the first people we saw at the start of each day, and usually cheered us home at the end, and by the third day they were one of the highlights of my experience - their enthusiasm and sincerity and sense of fun made me smile when I thought I had run out of everything but stubborn determination.
The route is broken down into bite-size chunks, which is one of the only things that makes it manageable. It's a lot easier to tell yourself 'I only have 3 more miles to go, and then I hit a Pit Stop' than it is to tell yourself 'I only have 18.5 more miles to go before the end of the day.' And sure enough, the first Pit Stop at 3.5 miles didn't feel like far at all.
Pit Stops are stationed every few miles along the route - they're staffed by Support Crew, and they're a place where walkers can rest in the shade, sit down, stretch, use a bathroom, see the medical crew for bandaids and shin tape (much more necessary on day 3 than at the first stop), and fill up on water, gatorade, ice, and snacks.
At that point I realized that, even though I had eaten breakfast before we started, I was already hungry enough to eat my own hand. This would become a theme for the weekend; apparently walking burns calories. Who knew? Luckily, the Pit Stops were also stocked with bananas, oranges, granola bars, chips, peanuts, and other high-protein, high-electrolyte, high-energy snack foods. This was when I also realized that, as much as I personally hate Gatorade, there are times when it's necessary.
We ate, we refilled our water bottles, and we kept on. And this set the pattern for our first day. Pit Stops were interspersed with Grab & Go stations (like the pit stops, only without the food - just medical tents, port-a-potties, and beverages).
We passed our first cheering station at eight miles. At first it feels kind of weird. I'm not used to hearing people cheer for me; I doubt almost anyone is, and it's not quite clear how to respond. It's a little embarrassing, and a little awkward, and there's a lot of blushing and thank-you-ing and staring at the sidewalk. But you realize, after a little bit, that the act of coming out and cheering, and supporting, and witnessing, is as important to the people doing it as the walking is to you, and that it's their way of being part of the experience and the community of the 3 Day, and then it becomes even more powerful - and they become part of your family and your team, just as much as the people walking next to you, and you start smiling and thanking and applauding right back, and by the end of the walk you're driven on as much by them as by your own drive.
I wasn't at all prepared for just how intense the community support would be for this event. I knew there would be cheering stations, but I didn't know exactly what that meant - though it turned out to be anything from half a dozen chairs in a Shaw's parking lot to hundreds of people lined up along the entire length of the Public Gardens waving pompoms and balloons and shouting. What I didn't expect at all were the people who just turned up on street corners and in front of their houses to wave and applaud, or offer us help, and let us know that what we were doing mattered.
As we walked, everywhere we went there were people. People with card tables handing out homemade cookies, or bottles of water, or just offering ice to put in our bottles or wrap in our bandannas. Incredibly serious-faced five year olds setting up lemonade stands. People who weren't home, but left coolers of ice and water on their front steps with signs saying 'Thank you, Walkers,' or set up sprinklers or hoses for us to cool ourselves down. One woman set up a chair on a corner and handed out thank-you notes, with a poem she had written - that made it into my pack for later reading; I didn't want to start tearing up any more than I already was.
By the time we hit lunch, we were 12 miles into the 19-mile route. We were hot and our feet were tired, but I felt like I could keep going indefinitely. If I had one flaw on this journey, it was my need to keep going. Momentum is a strong driver for me, and the thought of stopping or slowing down just seemed counter to my purpose and drive; I was lucky to havetpau as a voice of moderation and reason.
The afternoon was much the same as the morning. The weather was mostly cooperative; it didn't start drizzling until we were about a mile and a half from camp. At first, the raindrops and clouds were welcome - the last mile was also the roughest, and as we lurched uphill towards a destination that seemed more and more mythical, it felt good to at least not have to worry about scorching and sweltering.
Unfortunately, the drizzle rapidly became actual rain, and what felt good to hot, overworked walkers wasn't nearly as pleasant for setting up a tent. (Yes, the biggest gripe I have about this entire event is that after walking nearly 20 miles you need to pitch your own EZ-up. Insult to injury. Or, as they call it, part of the team experience.) We set up our little (6.5' x 6.5') hot pink (of course) dome and hunted down our luggage in the rain, wandered down to the camp's public area, and realized that, while it was barely 5pm, we were both quite ready for dinner and bedtime.
I was thoroughly chilled by then, and not sure that I wanted food, but eventually convinced myself to eat. The rain transformed into a thunderstorm, which we sat out under the dining tent, and then, damp, chilly, and tired, scampered (as much as we were still capable) to the shower vans and back to our tent to crash out way too darn early......
The three-day starts way too darn early, so the first part of the experience was waking up at 4:30am Friday. I probably should have gotten up earlier, but that was as short as I was willing to cut my sleep cycle, not having been organized enough to go to bed at 8pm the night before.
tpau came over, and umbran ferried all of our stuff into the car and drove us out to Framingham.I have to say that
umbran has truly been the unsung hero of this adventure. He has helped me with fundraising, walked with me for more miles of practice than I can count, hunted down camping gear that I didn't know I needed, woken up at insane hours to ferry me to events, and generally supported me above and beyond the call of duty.Anyway,
tpau and I were ferried to opening ceremonies and dropped off. We carted our gear to the luggage trucks and were herded into a fenced off area for walkers that looked disturbingly like a cattle pen full of pink, where we hung out, waited, and generally contributed to the uncertain, anxious, anticipatory air.As a note, the 3 Day Walk is an amazing place to people-watch, and it tends to draw some of the most unique characters you will ever see. It's an ocean of people in pink t-shirts and tank tops, yes, but there's so much more to it than that. There are teams in their matching shirts with matching slogans, and people in tutus and tiaras. There were a dozen men from Texas who had put together a lingerie calendar for fundraising, all walking in their beauty pageant sashes and hot pink brassieres, and the soldier who had dyed his hair and mustache pink, who walked with a "Baghdad to Boston" banner on a ten-foot tall pole. People walked with plaques and signs, carried high or pinned to their shirts, or as sandwich boards. And then there were the people at the other end of the spectrum, like Team Courage, who stood out for their plain, solid-gray t-shirts and lack of any frills, decorations, or accoutrements.
Opening ceremonies were simple enough ritual - cheering, speechifying about the importance of our cause and the reasons why we walk, and raising the banner to open the event. It was still powerful enough to make me tear up, but overall the anticipation and excitement and what-happens-next were enough to overwhelm anything else, and it was standard, almost routine patter. Plus, at that point, we were still 1600 individuals, or several hundred teams. We hadn't yet become one group. That happened on the road.
Then the music started, and the walking started. One thing I realized on the walk was just how much of a difference music can make. I've always known that it's a powerful mood changer, but it can take you from 'oh god another day/mile/step' to bouncing in place and picking up your feet and grinning without even noticing. And Komen understands the power of the hook, heavy drums and bass, and the techno beat in general. I think I've heard 'I Gotta Feeling' more times this weekend than anyone other than a bar mitzvah DJ should in their lifetime.... but each time, it did it's job.
Out of the pen, onto the street, and into the first cheers of the safety and support staff, and we were grinning and nodding to each other and full of absolutely no idea what we were in for. About a half block from the starting point, I ran into a girl who was in my class in vet school - I hadn't seen her since graduation, and we just happened to find each other here. I didn't have much chance to talk to her, but it seemed like an auspicious start to the event.
A block or so after that, we had our first encounter with the Pink Angels support squad. The Pink Angels are one of the biggest walker teams, and apparently they come with their own supporters - husbands, grandparents, friends, and family who make sure to strategically position themselves at multiple places along the route and cheer on all the walkers. They also tend to wear bright pink angel costumes, complete with neon wigs, robes, and (in the case of one gentleman) big cardboard wings strapped to his arms, and carry signs saying things like 'Sweaty Blistered Women are Sexy.' They were the first people we saw at the start of each day, and usually cheered us home at the end, and by the third day they were one of the highlights of my experience - their enthusiasm and sincerity and sense of fun made me smile when I thought I had run out of everything but stubborn determination.
The route is broken down into bite-size chunks, which is one of the only things that makes it manageable. It's a lot easier to tell yourself 'I only have 3 more miles to go, and then I hit a Pit Stop' than it is to tell yourself 'I only have 18.5 more miles to go before the end of the day.' And sure enough, the first Pit Stop at 3.5 miles didn't feel like far at all.
Pit Stops are stationed every few miles along the route - they're staffed by Support Crew, and they're a place where walkers can rest in the shade, sit down, stretch, use a bathroom, see the medical crew for bandaids and shin tape (much more necessary on day 3 than at the first stop), and fill up on water, gatorade, ice, and snacks.
At that point I realized that, even though I had eaten breakfast before we started, I was already hungry enough to eat my own hand. This would become a theme for the weekend; apparently walking burns calories. Who knew? Luckily, the Pit Stops were also stocked with bananas, oranges, granola bars, chips, peanuts, and other high-protein, high-electrolyte, high-energy snack foods. This was when I also realized that, as much as I personally hate Gatorade, there are times when it's necessary.
We ate, we refilled our water bottles, and we kept on. And this set the pattern for our first day. Pit Stops were interspersed with Grab & Go stations (like the pit stops, only without the food - just medical tents, port-a-potties, and beverages).
We passed our first cheering station at eight miles. At first it feels kind of weird. I'm not used to hearing people cheer for me; I doubt almost anyone is, and it's not quite clear how to respond. It's a little embarrassing, and a little awkward, and there's a lot of blushing and thank-you-ing and staring at the sidewalk. But you realize, after a little bit, that the act of coming out and cheering, and supporting, and witnessing, is as important to the people doing it as the walking is to you, and that it's their way of being part of the experience and the community of the 3 Day, and then it becomes even more powerful - and they become part of your family and your team, just as much as the people walking next to you, and you start smiling and thanking and applauding right back, and by the end of the walk you're driven on as much by them as by your own drive.
I wasn't at all prepared for just how intense the community support would be for this event. I knew there would be cheering stations, but I didn't know exactly what that meant - though it turned out to be anything from half a dozen chairs in a Shaw's parking lot to hundreds of people lined up along the entire length of the Public Gardens waving pompoms and balloons and shouting. What I didn't expect at all were the people who just turned up on street corners and in front of their houses to wave and applaud, or offer us help, and let us know that what we were doing mattered.
As we walked, everywhere we went there were people. People with card tables handing out homemade cookies, or bottles of water, or just offering ice to put in our bottles or wrap in our bandannas. Incredibly serious-faced five year olds setting up lemonade stands. People who weren't home, but left coolers of ice and water on their front steps with signs saying 'Thank you, Walkers,' or set up sprinklers or hoses for us to cool ourselves down. One woman set up a chair on a corner and handed out thank-you notes, with a poem she had written - that made it into my pack for later reading; I didn't want to start tearing up any more than I already was.
By the time we hit lunch, we were 12 miles into the 19-mile route. We were hot and our feet were tired, but I felt like I could keep going indefinitely. If I had one flaw on this journey, it was my need to keep going. Momentum is a strong driver for me, and the thought of stopping or slowing down just seemed counter to my purpose and drive; I was lucky to have
tpau as a voice of moderation and reason.The afternoon was much the same as the morning. The weather was mostly cooperative; it didn't start drizzling until we were about a mile and a half from camp. At first, the raindrops and clouds were welcome - the last mile was also the roughest, and as we lurched uphill towards a destination that seemed more and more mythical, it felt good to at least not have to worry about scorching and sweltering.
Unfortunately, the drizzle rapidly became actual rain, and what felt good to hot, overworked walkers wasn't nearly as pleasant for setting up a tent. (Yes, the biggest gripe I have about this entire event is that after walking nearly 20 miles you need to pitch your own EZ-up. Insult to injury. Or, as they call it, part of the team experience.) We set up our little (6.5' x 6.5') hot pink (of course) dome and hunted down our luggage in the rain, wandered down to the camp's public area, and realized that, while it was barely 5pm, we were both quite ready for dinner and bedtime.
I was thoroughly chilled by then, and not sure that I wanted food, but eventually convinced myself to eat. The rain transformed into a thunderstorm, which we sat out under the dining tent, and then, damp, chilly, and tired, scampered (as much as we were still capable) to the shower vans and back to our tent to crash out way too darn early......
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I've done >22 Miles in one day when cool, and 15 when hot and humid, and I know which one was worse. Needing IV fluids is more time too hot than I want to deal with....