Warning: Epic long post. Also, a lot of mention of blisters. Sorry if you’re easily grossed out.
So for the last year, I’ve been talking about this little walk I was going on. And by “little walk” I mean “60km over two days”.
So, as I’ve mentioned a million times, my mother was diagnosed with breast cancer last year. That’s been documented enough elsewhere, so I won’t go into that, but what it comes down to was that cancer makes you feel ridiculously helpless. There’s stuff that doctors can do, and stuff that the cancer patient can do, and there’s fuck all that an adult daughter who lives over an hour away by transit, and I don’t do helpless well.
Last year, I volunteered for The Weekend To End Women’s Cancers, and it was a pretty amazing event. I’m not the most Everybody Hold Hands kind of girl, but it was pretty great to see over a thousand women crossing the finish line after walking sixty kilometers.
So I signed up.
As a pretty awesome aside, a few months ago I apparently inspired Dan enough to walk with me. Which is also amazing. Not only would I have someone to walk with, to hold my hand, and to kick my ass into getting to the next checkpoint, but he’s also on the line for $2000. I’m only taking a LITTLE credit for what he raises, but between the two of us, we’ve raised well over $5000. That’s fantastic.
So for the last year, I’ve been fundraising, on & off. My goal was $3000, but I didn’t honestly expect to make that — as long as I got the $2000 minimum to walk, I would be pretty pleased.
Total raised: $3360. That? That’s frigging awesome.
A thousand of it was from my parents (and they gave another thousand toward Dan’s total) but still. I’m a little verklempt at the generosity of my friends, coworkers, family, and everybody who donated. A small call out of awesome is required:
Huge, huge thanks to: Vince, Chris & Kathryn, Adrienne, Steve, Tod, Robin, Uncle George & Auntie Ingrid, Angela, Ryan, Kim, Jenn, Shelley, Markus & Brigette, Betty, Jag, Tom, Gennie, Nick, Doris, Grandma, Riann, Tapestry, Gill, Ange, Kathryn, Lori, plus everybody who gave me cash that went in as a lump sum. You guys are all absolutely amazing, and there’s no way I could have done this without you. No, literally, they won’t let me walk without raising the money…
And honestly, when it got really hard and I didn’t really want to continue on, that’s what kept me going. Well, that and Dan — I couldn’t let him win. But mostly I just couldn’t let down everybody who donated.
I mean, there’s no actual connection between walking 60km and cancer research. It’s a gimmick, I know that, but this goes back to the feeling helpless thing. I felt like I finally found SOMETHING I could do to help, and part of what made me keep putting one extremely blistered foot in front of the other was the insane thought that if I failed, and Mom got sick again, then it was my fault because I couldn’t finish.
Look, when you’re on kilometer 48 or so and you have a blister the size of your thumb on your heel, you get some crazy ideas.
So the walk itself: Honestly, it was both easier and harder than I expected. Day one started off pretty fantastic. We live in an absolutely gorgeous city.
I was really hoping to be able to track where the walk went, but there were so many twists & turns and by the time I was done I was so tired I couldn’t remember where I was RIGHT THEN, nevermind where I’d been 4 hours ago. But I have a basic overview.
The walk started from UBC Thunderbird Arena, and we walked all through Point Grey, marvelling at the utterly gorgeous homes along the way. Our first pit stop was at Volunteer Park in Point Grey, and by the time we got there I had to pee so badly that it was starting to seem like a good idea to go knock on one of the multi-million dollar homes to use their bathrooms. Or just pee in a bush. Whatever. Surely nobody in Point Grey would mind if I peed in their rhododendrons?
Glad I waited — honestly, that might have been one of the nicest porta-potty experiences of my life. One of the sponsors was Royale, who provided all of the paper products for The Weekend. I think we had nicer toilet paper there than we do at home. I am a HUGE fan of wiping my ass with kittens. Thanks, Royale!
After that particular observation, we met up with Chris, who was there cheering his mother & cousin on their walk (his Mom’s fourth go at it!) That was awesome and fun, and after a quick photo op and water refill, we were on our way to wander along Kits Beach, through Vanier Park, and then over the Burrard Street Bridge to head into the West End.
Amusingly, but not surprisingly since they’re the title sponsor (I can’t even begin to imagine how much money they put toward this event) our route took us past what seemed like every Shoppers Drug Mart in the city. Which suited me fine, as they sell the type of knee brace I prefer, and my knee was starting to ache a bit. Not great when you’re only a quarter through your 36k walk. So we stopped in at the one on Davie St, grabbed my knee brace, and continued on along Denman, into Coal Harbour, and then for lunch on the seawall.
I really appreciate what good care they take of us. Lunch was a tasty quinoa salad with chicken and a cookie, and all of it was super tasty.
From there, we headed on back toward Downtown, hit Granville Street, then down Georgia to Library Square, and eventually over the Cambie Street Bridge, to a rest point by VGH. This was around where it started getting hard.
Honestly, other than my knee acting up, the first 20-25km weren’t a big deal. And I wasn’t really expecting it to be — I do regularly walk 10-15km with no problem. I’m a transit user and I have a dog. I walk a LOT. And so… I kind of slacked on training. The main problem was that June, July & August was when I planned on doing most of my training, and that’s when life got chaotic. We were short staffed at work, so I was working a LOT. Dan & I decided to move in together, and that … well, that pretty much took up all of my time when I wasn’t working.
To add to that, I have really oddly shaped feet. They’re tiny for one — my nine year old sister has essentially the same size feet as me, maybe a half size off. But my feet are super wide in the “front”, and super narrow in the heel. I have duck feet. I also have feet that are INCREDIBLY hard to find shoes that fit.
So, to say that I am well versed in blisters is an understatement. I’ve had two pairs of shoes EVER that didn’t give me blisters immediately: My hiking boots that I bought from MEC and wore all over Africa (which do now give me blisters, but because I had to get them repaired, and the shitty repair job made a ridge where there was no ridge.) And my running shoes.
That lasted until about 25km in on Saturday. Damn. Blisters.
By the time we’d finished the walk (having wandered all through Shaughnessy, down to King Ed, through the Dunbar area, and then finally into Pacific Spirit Park and back to UBC) I had some pretty significant blisters. 4 in total, two on the outsides of my heels, and two on the insides of my … hmm, what’s that part of your foot called? Well, what would be the palm if it was a hand. I dunno. Near the toes, but not actually toes. The ones on my heels were the worst — they were honestly thumb sized, half under callus and half not. And puffy as hell.
But a little foot pain couldn’t begin to diminish the utter joy & relief I felt at walking 36km. We started at about 8:30, and hit the finish line at almost exactly 5. There were some breaks, pit stops, lunches, etc in there, but 4.8km/h isn’t terrible. Heck, I’m usually slower than that when I walk with Justice, but she likes to stop & sniff. I did very little stopping & sniffing.
The walk wasn’t even done yet — we still had to get home. The bus loop was two blocks away, too. Stupid bus loop. Thankfully I got a seat, as I was fully ready to inform the first happy little university student there that I had just walked THIRTY SIX kilometers for cancer, please for the love of god let me have a seat. Please.
Went home, and pretty much immediately passed out.
Woke up around midnight, walked the dog (augh, sorry puppy! Honestly, she didn’t even ask to go out until then.) And was so nauseated I could barely stand up. My head was pounding, I felt feverish, and then there was that damn nausea. Managed to get some food in me (thanks to Dan for making me… hmm, I have no idea what I ate, I just know there was something. Pasta, I think.) and then hit the Gravol hard, and went back to bed around 2, so that we could be up at 5:30.
Here’s where I screwed up a little: So, we both moved at the beginning of the month, and didn’t quite get our addresses updated fast enough. I missed mine by a day. Oops. But, no problem — the people at The Weekend said they’d just leave a new package for us to pick up there. But when we got there, no package. We still got registered, but didn’t get the full “here’s what’s happening” deal that everybody else got, including maps, properly printed badges, and I assume, schedules. So we had no idea that on Sunday, the start time was 7am, not 8am like it had been on Sunday.
To add to that: We missed our bus. Oops. Sunday morning service being what it is, the next bus was going to have us there later than I wanted. So we grabbed a Car2Go car and drove down to King Edward, meeting up with the 25 we had originally wanted to catch. Parked a few blocks ahead of it, and hopped on, arriving at UBC at 7:35.
Except… what the heck? Why is there a slow stream of women in pink already heading out? We grab a nearby crew member and ask what time things got started.
“7am!”
…oh fucking hell.
On the upside, it looks like we weren’t the only slackers by a long shot, as there was still a steady stream of walkers heading out. And it was kind of nice to not be all bunched up at the beginning like we’d been on Saturday.
So off we went, and sweet jesus it was a more painful experience than Saturday. The nausea that had horrified me in the middle of the night had faded. Thankfully, as I was just about in tears that if I still felt that terrible, there was no way I was going to be able to get TO the event, nevermind walk it. And amazingly, I wasn’t nearly as stiff & sore as I was expecting. But the blisters were agonizing. By 5km, I was limping pretty badly, and at the third pit stop I had to stop and do some more blister care. I’d already drained one in the morning, but had to get a lancet from the medical tent and drain the other one. I then pretty much solidly wrapped my feet in moleskin and gel bandaids (god, I love those gel bandaids) and hobbled off. I was also switching my kneebrace back and forth at every pit stop or two, just to give my knees a break.
This sounds like I was particularly whiny, but … okay, I was a little. It really wasn’t the intention, I was going for more of a “state of the union” update. Honestly, if it had just been the walking and the knee pain, I could handle that. I’m used to that. Muscle aches are a pain (har har) but they’re acceptable. The blister pain, on the other hand, was getting hard to deal with. My feet simply didn’t want to keep taking steps because every time shot a little more “aunnaghjshs!” through them.
On the upside, by lunch, I think they’d given up. They pretty much went “Fine, you’re ignoring our pain signals? Fuck you, this is on you then.” Walking got a bit easier then. I didn’t so much switch out my bandages as add a few more, and it seemed to work fairly well.
I livetweeted the entire walk, for the entertainment of my followers, and because Mom was reading along from home, and hell — I’m doing this for her, and she was enjoying the updates. I know my Sunday updates were a bit more bitter than Saturdays, especially when Chris let me know there was no shame in being swept up to the next pit stop. (They had crew members responsible for “sweeping” to make sure nobody got left behind.)
And I know there isn’t, but … god damnit, I WANTED TO DO THIS SO BADLY. I am only 31, there is no bloody reason I shouldn’t be able to go and walk sixty km just for fun. I know I’m not in the best shape, but I’m in pretty reasonable shape and seriously. It’s just walking, right?
Ok, ok, so I should have trained more.
I realized that my sense of scale for what is “walkable” is totally skewed. At the lunch break on Sunday, the marker said there was only 10km left. Only 10? ONLY TEN? TEN IS NOTHING! I CAN DO TEN ON MY HEAD! THAT MEANS I’VE ALREADY DONE FIFTY FUCKING KILOMETERS!
I was SO excited to see that, and knew I’d made it.
As an aside: I’m a little nervous about going back to work. Part of my job is giving directions and helping people figure out if something is walkable for them. “Oh, it’s only 8km from the bus stop, that’s no problem.” “Eight KM? I don’t think I can walk that far…” “Pfft, slacker, I saw women going through chemo walk 60km this weekend. YOU CAN WALK EIGHT!” “Miss, I’m 85 and have a walker…” “LAZY!”
Ok, right, walkable is usually considered a half km. Got it.
Anyway. It was still hard. I am so thankful that Dan was there, he honestly did keep me going. I couldn’t let him win! He’s got a much higher pain tolerance than me under the best of circumstances, and well, has never had a blister before. Ever. I think I hated him a little for that. But he made me laugh when I wanted to sit down and never move again, he didn’t care when I was whiny, and he supported me and took care of me for the entire walk — EVEN THOUGH HE WAS DOING THE SAME WALK — and for that I cannot thank him enough.
When we hit the last pit stop, I was exuberant. I was also in so much pain that my speed dropped to a snail crawl. My mom called me to say she was on her way into the city when we were only a km away — she was at Granville & 41. I was a little nervous that we were going to beat her there — I REALLY wanted Mom to be there when I finished — but then I realized that at the pace I was going? Hah, no, she was going to beat me there easily. Mom & Carol Ann met us at the last turn down to the finish line, and walked in with us.
Chris took a picture of us crossing the finish line — look at mister casual, hands in pockets there. “Oh, this? Yeah, I was just out for a 24km morning stroll… with my whiny-ass girlfriend.”
I was extremely jazzed, and in so much pain I could barely move. Headed straight to the medical tent. Didn’t really have to do too much — my self care was pretty good (yay, I DO know what I’m doing!) but I wanted to clean them up and get new bandages. The moleskin I had with me was way too thick and wouldn’t wrap around my heels. So we got me cleaned up & rebandaged and sent on my way. “Did you bring sandals?” No, because there’s no pair of sandals in the world that doesn’t hurt my feet like hell. I’ll just go barefoot, thanks.
We finished around 2pm, and I didn’t want to wait an hour and a half for the closing ceremonies when I could instead have booze much faster (they did have wine & beer sponsors, but wine gives me migraines, and beer isn’t my preferred drink) so we ended up hitting the Chill Winston in Gastown, where Dan & I got reasonably sloshed on a measly two drinks. Exercise is fun! (Well, I was reasonably sloshed, Dan was slightly tipsy.)
And it was goooood.
After Mom & Carol Ann got to look at our pretty new (still disasterous) apartment, they headed back to the suburban wilds, and Dan & I passed out pretty much immediately. Woke up around 10, walked the dog again (ow, ow, ow) and went back to sleep until 5:30 the next morning.
Amazingly, while I was pretty stiff when I woke up, it went away quite fast. The only lingering pain is my feet, and even those are holding up pretty well (as long as you don’t bump them directly like I seem to do EVERY THIRTY FUCKING SECONDS. WHY ARE THERE SO MANY THINGS TO ACCIDENTALLY KICK IN THE WORLD?) We both had yesterday off (Dan has a throat infection, and took the day off to avoid giving it to anyone else.) and even managed to move some furniture around so that our livingroom doesn’t look like a storage locker.
Overall… it was an amazing experience. I’m so glad I could be a part of it. Overall, the weekend raised over 2 million, and has raised over 20 million dollars since it started. That’s absolutely incredible. I’m proud of me, and I’m proud of Dan, and I’m proud of every single walker, and I’m proud of everyone who donated, and every person who was being walked “in honor of”. Too many people had “In Memory Of” shirts, and this really, really helps.
And that’s something I’m proud to be a part of.
