ladysprite | Three Day - Day Three (Reply)

I woke up on the final day feeling both miraculously better and surprisingly good in general for someone who had walked 40 miles over the past two days and was getting up after less than five hours of sleep. Modern medicine truly is an amazing and wondrous thing.

Since this was the last day of the walk, we had to pack up our belongings and take down our tent before we could have breakfast and hit the road. Packing was easier than I had feared it would be, given how tiny, crowded, and awkward the tent was, but by then

tpau and I had become fairly adept at maneuvering around each other and our scant furnishings.

After we were packed, I scampered down to the medical tent while

tpau disassembled our temporary home - I wouldn't be allowed to walk until I was cleared by them. The line to see the medical staff was several dozen people long; I wasn't nearly the only one to fall prey to heat, exertion, and effort. But the nurses recognized me, pulled me out of the general line, and after glancing at the paperwork from the hospital, gave me back my ID tag with a stern admonishment to take it as easy as humanly possible.

After that, and a quick breakfast, we started the last leg of our walk. We were slower today, held back by my caution (and a blister on my pinky toe) and

tpau's injuries - while my medical experience was more dramatic, hers were more insidious, and a combination of blisters and shin and knee injuries were acting as a brake on our usually-swift pace. The Pink Angels cheering squad were there to see us off once more, and this time instead of just grinning at them I demanded (and quite cheerfully received) a hug from the most enthusiastic of them.

The walk that day was shorter, but somehow more intense. The path was a lot of fun, as it took us through Harvard Square (heading there via a backwards route that I recognized from one time that

metaphysick and I got... not quite lost... between the Square and Alewife), across MIT campus, and through the Public Gardens and Boston Commons.

tpau had to skip the middle part of the day, but managed to join me for the last three miles, which was the most important part.

By the end of the walk I was ready to be done. I wasn't feeling sick or headachey or dehydrated, but I was tired. My feet were killing me, the blister had gone from irritating to annoying, my quads were crying with exhaustion, and I was hot and generally sick of walking. But Komen recognizes this, and the last mile and a half was almost solidly blanketed with support staff, safety crew, and cheerers, letting you know that you're only 30, or 20, or 10 minutes from your destination, pointing to the building you're aiming for and showing you how close it is, and generally making you realize that you can do it.

The last eighth of a mile or so was one big cheering section, made up of staff, family, and walkers who had made it in earlier. My eyes started to fill up with tears as I realized that we had made it; we had accomplished this amazing thing, and we were part of such a huge, incredible family. and we walked those last feet in a haze of aching muscles, waving pink pompoms, blowing kazoos, and cheers of "GO WALKERS!" and "You made it!" and, one small group of children shouting what seemed most important at the time, "Air conditioning! No more Port-A-Potties!"

We limped into the building on U Mass campus that had been designated as our holding station, and took a minute to enjoy the cold and shade before wandering down to pick up our victory shirts and collapse on the bleachers. After a little while,

tpau lay down to rest and I, still amped and restless, wandered back outside to cheer the rest of the walkers as they came in.

Watching was almost as overwhelming as walking. Seeing the looks of determination and triumph mixing with fatigue and hope and so many other emotions on so many faces, watching people cross the end-line even on crutches, shins taped, feet covered in so many bandaids that they wouldn't fit into sneakers anymore, and still managing to stop limping and step proudly for those last few paces.... that's an image from this even that I'm never going to forget.

By 4:30 the entire walking team was lined up to cheer the final arriving walker, and then we were divided to enter closing ceremonies.

If opening ceremonies were standard ritual, closing ceremonies were.... I don't know quite how to finish that. The ceremonies were so similar, and yet there was a power to the closing that wasn't there at the opening, no matter how much material was shared.

The walkers lined up and entered the area that had been cleared and set up, followed by the staff, and finally by all of the walkers who were also breast cancer survivors. That was when I realized just how many there were - they stood out, because their victory shirts were a different color, and there's an impact to looking around the people around you and seeing that one in eight picked out so starkly.

As the victory march progressed, we also found out how many people were involved - almost 1600 - and how much money was raised - $4.3 million. I think that was when I started crying; I know I didn't stop until things were over.

After the walkers and staff were brought in, and standing in concentric circles, the Walker Flags were brought out onto the stage. As we walk, there are a dozen or so flags and banners that can be carried by walkers, announcing who we're walking for and who our inspiration is - My Father, My Mother, My Sister, My Children, My Self, and so on. At the opening ceremonies, they were the motivation to start us on our path; here and now, they were the signs of our triumph. The survivors entered, then, and in the very center of the assembly, on a circular dais, the Survivor's Circle came together.

The Walker Flags show who we're walking for, but the flags of the Survivor's Circle show *why* we're walking, and what keeps us going. Hope, Faith, Love, Strength, and all of the other traits necessary to make it through both this and the fight with cancer. The flags are set around the dais, and the center flag stating our goal - A World Without Breast Cancer - was raised to the top of the mast as a circle of survivors stood around it, arms raised, and I have never seen anything as amazing and inspirational and powerful and strong in my life.

After that, it was shouting until we were hoarse, applauding until our hands were almost as sore as our feet, hugging strangers, and then.... home.

umbran was waiting for us, and there was a car, and then there was food that didn't come out of a hotel pan, and chairs with cushions, and an actual sink to wash my hands for the first time in three days, and.... back to the real world.

A world where walking three or four miles is a long way. A world where no one applauds when you get there. A world where I don't need to carry an extra pair of socks and 46 ounces of water when I set out in the morning. A world where cancer still exists, and hurts my friends.

A world where I'm doing something about that, though. And will do it again.

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