In honor of Breast Cancer Awareness Month (October), I thought it only fitting to resurrect the story of our greatest fundraising adventure as a family.
This adventure began in the spring of 2007when Fifinella asked me, “What are you doing next November?” Silly me. I said, “Nothing, why?” She said, “David’s mom has breast cancer, and I’ve been thinking we (“we”) should raise money by doing the Susan G. Komen 3-Day in San Diego. It’s 20 miles a day for 3 days.” My response: “You’re nuts! I did a 31-mile walk for hunger in Sacramento one Saturday when I was in high school with a group of likewise insane friends and we couldn’t walk, could hardly breathe without crying, for days.” She said, “But Mom, you’d have time to train for it, come on, we’d be three generations!” So I weakened and said I’d think about it. Before I knew it, I’d committed to not only walking, but helping raise the $2200 required for each of the 4 of us (me, Butterfly, Fifinella and Maverick) to participate. Have I mentioned that I’m nuts?
Fifinella and Maverick named our team the Wing Walkers. With those two, it’s all about planes.
“David” is the young man from Michigan that Fifinella met at Space Camp in Alabama, which she attended when she was in 7th grade (and he was in 8th grade). They have been friends ever since. His mom has powered through her chemo and radiation and is doing well, I hear tell, these days. May she continue to thrive and win her private battle. David spends his days as a pilot in the Air Force.
We spent the next months beating the bushes for money. That included visiting several of the service groups in town, who very kindly fed us, listened to our plea, and then ponied up – often as a club, and always their individual members came through. Thank you Soroptimists and Lions everywhere! It also included mass emailings and snail-mailings to friends, relatives and mere acquaintances. Thank you to everyone who sent money and wrote to express your support and appreciation of what we were doing. Obviously we couldn’t have done it without each and every one of you!
In August, we were delighted to have Sara, from Chicago, join our team. “But who the heck is Sara?” we asked ourselves. She just showed up on the website as our newest team member and seemed, from her website, to know David and his mom. Fifinella got busy sleuthing and figured out that she was a friend of David’s. We watched her ring up the dollars in just a matter of weeks! What the heck???!!!! What took us months took her only weeks. Apparently those Midwesterners know tricks we don’t. Or, perhaps, living in Chicago makes it easier to raise funds than does living in a small town.
All’s well that ends well, though. In the end, our team raised over $14,000.00
But it wasn’t all about fundraising. We also had to train. We had to get in shape to pound out 60 miles in just three days. So no matter what, no matter how hot it was and no matter what we felt like, we dragged ourselves and all the dogs out at the crack of dawn to beat the worst of the heat and headed up Big Hill. That was on the “regular” days, for me and Butterfly. On “Hiking Tuesdays” we continued to skedaddle all over the Sierras with our hiking group to tackle new trails. I kept thinking to myself, “I didn’t plan this very well; we should have chosen a 3-Day walk that would have allowed us to train in the winter, during the cool weather – I hate training in the heat!” I felt especially pressured to keep after Butterfly. She is, after all, 82 years old! I wanted to make sure she was in shape for this event. I would have felt terrible if she would have suffered an injury, or worse, as the result of not having been properly conditioned. Her attitude was, “So what if I die? It will have been for a good cause.” Sigh. Right. But really bad publicity for the event, Butterfly.
Soon the big day was almost upon us. We found ourselves on a plane and flying down to San Diego the night before the big event. The 4 of us were wearing matching shirts identifying us Wing Walker team members. Butterfly and I were sporting pink boas courtesy of Fifinella. The lady sitting next to us on the plane said, “Oh, you’re going to the 3-Day, so am I! I just didn’t wear any of my stuff.”
I won’t bore you with the details of our flight being delayed, which meant that we were very late getting to our hotel, which meant that we only got 4 hours of sleep before having to arrive at the Del Mar Fairgrounds at 5:30am for the morning shenanigans. Adrenalin served us all well.
There were 4.600 walkers, raring to go, when the sun broke. Ok, when the sun broke above the cloudy morning. The weather was actually perfect the whole 3 days – nice and cool and breezy. We couldn’t have asked for better weather for walking. There was only a little drizzle on Sunday afternoon. Perfect!
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each has a personal reason
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pink was the color of the day
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While we waited for the opening ceremonies to commence, we amused ourselves with reading signs and t-shirts.
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there was plenty to keep me amused
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the beginning of a 3-day friendship
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I zeroed in on the guy with the sash that read “Mr. January” and pointed him out to Fifinella. “Get a load of that guy!” I told her. I tried my best to get a picture of him, but he was moving too quick for me to get anything close to being in focus. Finally I threw my camera to her when I saw him headed our way and said, “Take our picture – don’t complain,” – this when she started the, “Awwww, Mom!” whine.
I scurried over to him and said, “Excuse me, Mr. January, would you mind if my daughter took a picture of the two of us?” He looked at me and said, “No problem. You do know what this is about, don’t you?” I smiled and thought, “Well, I have my ideas!” but what I said was, “No idea at all, but love the look!” He said, “I’m one of the 60 Mile Men. Have you seen the movie ‘Calendar Girls’?” I told him I had. He said, “Well, we put together a calendar like that and I’m Mr. January.” Then he whipped said calendar out of his back pocket and proceeded to show me all 12 naked guys (with strategically placed water bottles and other pieces of ‘equipment’). See for yourself at their website – www.60milemen.org. He asked if we had raised all of our funds, because they had raised more than enough and were willing to share (how sweet was that?!). He also asked that in return for taking the photo, I email him a copy of it. Over the next 3 days, any time I saw a sign on someone saying they still needed funds (everyone was required to raise a minimum of $2200) I would tell them to look for Mr. January and ask for help from his group.
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in case we forgot why we were there
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Near the end of the opening ceremonies, several breast cancer survivors were introduced.
Seeing them and hearing their stories got the tears flowing and the tissues flying.
Finally we got underway. This took a long, long time. The crowd of almost 5,000 was funneled down to a column of 2 by 2 and each person’s ID badge had to be scanned as we left the grounds so that we could be tracked (in case we misbehaved, I suppose).
In case any walkers got into trouble and needed a lift, there were “sweep vans” constantly going by to give you a lift. All you had to do was cross your hands over your head or give them a “thumbs down” signal so they would know to pull over and pick you up. They were not hard to spot – not only were they noisy with crazy music and lots of singing, hooting and hollering; they were also rather distinctive looking.
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you either laugh or cry ...
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I repeat, what size is that?
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Along what could really be called the parade route, we had regular supporters. They would plant themselves in one spot, wait until all of us had passed, then jump ahead to another spot and cheer us on again. We’d see them over and over all day long, ever day. Amazing stamina!
Here is The Smile Guy and his daughter, Little Grin. It’s hard to see in the photo, but his pants are printed with happy faces. He’d chatter constantly using his bullhorn, saying, “Good job, Ladies, way to go! Go, Guy, go!” He was always excited to see a guy. They were few and far between, so Maverick usually got special attention.
Little Grin handed out stickers … very carefully.
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breast cancer knows no age limits
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These three “Young Survivors” also moved along the walking route, never tiring of supporting us. Diagnosed under 40! Can you believe it??? That’s why we walked!
This wild and crazy guy was a crowd favorite and also tireless. Later you will see that we were able to get a photo with him. San Diego went all out supporting all of the walkers, all three days.
Probably the favorite group of all the walkers was the San Jose bicycle cops. They used their vacation time and paid their own way to come to work the walk. The pedaled back and forth, grimacing up the hills, urging us on, dancing on their bikes, providing great tunes, keeping up our morale and helping to keep us safe.
The bike cops even had supplies for us, ready at a moment's notice.
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the supporters were too cute
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As you can see from this photo, it wasn’t just the adults of San Diego who came out to cheer us on. Every age group celebrated with us.
Butterfly was pretty much disgusted by this group of street walkers, but what are you going to do? It was all about the boobs! As she trotted by, she muttered, “You ought to be ashamed of yourselves!” They just laughed.
I found puppy love and was so happy!
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another shirt to make us laugh
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Just one of many shirts that says it all.
The scenery was gorgeous.
Happy Butterfly, Fifinella and Maverick.
Ok, maybe the scenery was distracting.
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we weren't the only ones getting treats
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Ok, maybe the scenery was wildlife.
Ok, maybe the wildlife was distracting. Hey, it’s Southern California, after all!
Oh, look, more puppy love for me!
So they can’t spell, who cares?
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he clapped for every walker
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Maverick saw this and said, “Hey, you mean I could have just done that and not walked 60 miles with my mother-in-law?!” This guy got as much applause and laughter as he was giving. We saw him on Day Two with a new sign that read, “My wife is STILL hot!”
We reached our first pit stop – the first of many.
See the porta-potties? Count the porta-potties!
A reminder to drink, drink, drink.
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another cop with a sense of humor
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here's where the rubber meets the road
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they appreciated our efforts
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A common sight along the way – walkers tending their feet.
These “movie star” signs were all along the route – this is just the first of several that you’ll see. Pretty funny.
This lady was handing out little flower pins that she had made. Hundreds of ‘em – probably thousands of ‘em! Incredible.
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our lucky photo with the "pink man"
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Lunch time on Day One. Time to check out those feet and change the socks.
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Wing Walkers take a break
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Fifinella and Maverick are working on their feet while Butterfly gets busy on her lunch. I never saw Butterfly eat so much food. She delighted in the fact that all of San Diego was getting rid of their Halloween candy by giving it to the walkers. We didn’t go so much as a block with out another person handing us some candy. What she couldn’t immediately consume she would stuff into my backpack. (By then end of each day I was beginning to collapse under the weight.) Then at the pit stops, we’d be given orange slices, apples slices, bagels with cream cheese, PB&Js, Gatorade, and all the healthy stuff. For Butterfly, it was the 3-Day Buffet.
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It was at lunch on the first day when Sara walked up to us (we hadn’t yet met her) and she looked at Fifinella and said, “Fifinella? Maverick? I’m Sara!” We were amazed that she was able to find us out of the thousands of people milling about. She didn’t stay with us the whole time because she was battling a very badly sprained ankle from playing flag football a week or so earlier. She really shouldn’t have been walking at all, but you know these stubborn young ‘uns.
Back to walking, we went by a drive way gate where we were very glad to be protected from these ferocious dogs. They didn’t stop yapping the whole time we were walking by. They probably had no voices by the end of the day.
Next we were treated to a lovely display of pink flowers (a geranium, I think) – planted, perhaps, in honor of the 3-Day Walk?
WARNING – following are graphic photos not suitable for younger viewers. Fifinella was mad at me for even including them, which I cannot believe given where she grew up (i.e., “rehab central”).
We were PRIVILEGED, and yes I believe we were privileged to witness wildlife rescue in action. Had I not seen someone helping this poor creature I would have had to take matters into my own hands and think how that would have slowed us down, since I forgot to pack my net or catch-pole! I stopped to watch and photograph when I realized that this guy with the net (on the left) was sneaking up on the injured seal on the right, next to the sea gull.
Apparently this poor seal had had a run-in with a shark or a boat propeller. I guess we’ll never know.
Success! The seal is netted!
Fellow rescuers move in to assist.
The seal was carried off, hopefully to be assessed by a veterinarian. I’m pretty sure there were only two possible outcomes for this poor fella – either euthanasia, or life in an aquarium somewhere, if there is one that needs/wants a crippled seal. Either way, he was rescued from a slow death at sea. His rescuers were, rightfully, applauded as they carried him away. We walked on. I was happy he was helped. Fifinella continued to mutter about me being a sicko.
Why do I continually stumble upon these situations? Thank goodness the rescuers were already on the scene by the time I arrived or I don't know what I would have done. I would not have left the seal without finding him help, I can tell you that ... and then there would have been some mad walkers!
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there he comes, almost to safety
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The children can come back to the story now, I promise, no more gore.
These “Holstein Cow Ladies” followed us all three days. They never stopped making us laugh with their lame cow jokes. “What do you call a cow that doesn’t give milk?” A MILK DUD!
The end of the Day One and we are getting close to camp. We’re tired and we can’t wait to spot that sea of pink tents. We don’t know what to expect … do we have to set up our own tents? I know Butterfly has never camped before, so I’ll have my work cut out for me.
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We used the last bit of daylight to find our assigned tent section with our tent stilled rolled up and in its bag. Dang! But much to our delight, some tent fairies appeared and asked, “Can we put up your tent for you?” I almost kissed them. We went to retrieve our bags from the trucks while they erected tents. Then, of course, we discovered that the brand new pump I’d bought had discharged in flight, so I had to use the same feet that had just walked 20 miles to inflate our air mattresses. Luckily I had bought air mattresses with built-in foot-pumps! Poor Maverick and Fifinella weren’t so fortunate and had to go begging to borrow a pump. We managed, though, to get our tents arranged, our sleeping bags in place and the next days’ clothes set out, all before total darkness set upon us. Next it was time to hit the dinner tents.
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The hot dinners were delicious. We had a choice of two desserts and when we got to our tables we noticed Butterfly had managed to score both desserts. For a change, she ate her entire meal before devouring both desserts. The woman was hungry!
Next it was time for hot showers. Shower trailers had been rolled in. As usual, there was a long wait for the women’s facilities, while Maverick was able to waltz right into the men’s showers. The sinks/mirrors were set up outside each shower facility, so at least you could get to those a little more easily, for teeth-brushing, make-up (who wears make-up to these events???!!!), contacts, etc. That first night we opted for the “group” shower trailers, which was pretty much a nightmare. Think junior-high showers. No place to set your dry clothes, no place to dry off without getting wet again. And do you think Butterfly had her SOAP when we got to the showers? Sheesh. Lucky for her we actually found liquid soap dispensers inside each stall, so I could stop grousing at her. Thereafter we chose to wait a longer time for the “private” shower stalls, even though there were a lot fewer of them. Much nicer, much more civilized.
Butterfly and I were in bed and asleep (me with the help of earplugs to drown out the sound of Karaoke) by 8pm. Camp lights and noise were out at 9pm. I had taken reading lights for each of us, and although they got some use each night, we were tired enough that mostly we were just happy to enjoy sleeping.
Thankfully each tent had a rain fly, because the dew settled in every night, soaking everything. Each trip to the bathroom during the night (and there were many, we were drinking so much water – hydrate, hydrate, hydrate!) required finding the flashlight, a rock and roll exercise to get off the air mattresses (which took up ALL the room in the tiny tent), unzipping the tent door, unzipping the rain fly, finding our shoes, trying to scoot off the mattresses, getting out of the tent without getting wet and standing up while trying to avoid the wet grass. Imagine doing all that with sore muscles. By then we were exhausted! Next was a very short walk to the bathroom, which was conveniently close, thank goodness. Then reverse the above procedure to get back into bed.
It was a good thing we were so tired we didn’t care. Only two more days (and 40 miles) of this fun!
