Day 3 – End Of The Road

Last day!!! We were greeted by another beautiful, clear, cool morning. Everyone was up early – taking down tents, packing up sleeping bags, loading gear onto trucks. My teammates and I took our annual team picture and then headed out onto the route.

Dawn, Maria, Mary and I left camp at 6:52 AM – part of a steady stream of walkers that had begun as early as 6:30. Cheerleaders from a local high school, in full uniform, sent us on our way.

We walked the Gateway Trail again, this time following the path to the east, toward St. Paul. We passed Keller Golf Course, just as some early bird golfers were teeing off. A hush fell over the crowd, there was only the soft sound of sneakers on asphalt. Then, as one of the golfers struck his tee shot, shouts of, “Yeah!”, All right!”, “You da man!”, and of course, “It’s in the hole!” rang out from the gallery. We laughed, the golfers waved, and both parties continued on their own way.

The trail wound through the quiet, wooded neighborhoods of Maplewood and St. Paul. I walked with my friend and teammate, Tracy, who I had met up with at the first pit stop. We passed the State Capitol, which had been the site of the 3-Day closing ceremonies in years past. It looked eerily peaceful as the rising sun shone on the large dome. From the Capitol, we followed the sound of friends and family gathered at the cheering station – at the base of the hill where St. Paul’s Cathedral stood, overlooking the city.

We continued walking along historic Summit Avenue, in the opposite direction than in the three previous Twin Cities 3-Day events. We admired the mansions, many of which were being refurbished and restored. We passed the onetime homes of railroad magnate James J. Hill and F. Scott Fitzgerald, as well as the Minnesota governor’s mansion.

Before noon, having walked more than 50 miles since Friday morning, we came to our lunch stop at the University of St. Thomas. I quickly found my two teammates, Jim and Terry, who were working as crew members. On Friday, they had dressed up in Scottish kilts, as part of an “international” theme. On Saturday, they wore 50’s-style bowling shirts (with Maria in a poodle skirt) – Terry even had the Elvis hair and sunglasses thing going. Today, Sunday, they were wearing togas. I silently referred to the sight of Jim and Terry on garbage detail as “Trash of the Titans”.

After lunch, we made our way down to the Mississippi River and walked along the river to the University of Minnesota in Minneapolis. We walked through the relatively quiet campus and into the adjacent – and much busier – Dinkytown neighborhood. By now, I was walking with my teammates Laura and Bobbie, who made an unscheduled pit stop at the Library in Dinkytown. Um…no, they did not go in to check out the latest Harry Potter book. Let’s just say they chose to drink something other than the water or Gatorade we had been drinking for the better part of the past three days.

After the final (scheduled) pit stop of the weekend – woo hoo! – our route took us onto a pedestrian bridge over interstate 35W, just to the north of where the Mississippi River bridge collapsed on August 1st. Though we could see little more than where the roadway abruptly ended, many walkers paused for a few moments to take in the sight, snap a photo, and perhaps say a silent prayer.

The final two miles brought us back along the river, through a neighborhood of restaurants…and bars. It took a great deal of energy not to cross the street for a quick, nearly-the-end-of-the-walk cocktail! Instead, Bobbie and Laura and Tracy and I, with dozens of our newly-found close personal friends, walked onto an old wooden footbridge and crossed the Mississippi River for the first time all weekend, finally arriving “home” at Boom Island Park.

We were greeted by the cheers of hundreds – if not thousands – of friends and family and fellow walkers and crew. All around me, people were crying. Me? I was smiling. Smiling at the faces of women and men who I’d come to know over the past three days. And smiling with relief it was over, that we had all done something extraordinary.

There were hugs and tears and laughter. There was joy and relief at completing an amazing physical and emotional challenge. Yet, as we stood on a hill, in the warm summer sunshine, waiting to spend our final moments together, there was a look in many an eye – a look that betrayed a bittersweet feeling that this “event”, for which we had worked so hard, for so long, was…over.

We took one last walk together, parading into our closing ceremony, joining hands, holding on to each other as if we would never let go. We stood en masse, cheering each other, cheering our support crew, and cheering the survivors among us. Tears flowed down the face of the young woman standing next to me, as the survivors’ circle raised our victory flag – “A World Without Breast Cancer” – and 3,000 people who had raised over $6.5 million cheered even louder. I felt shivers run up and down my spine and I wished the moment would last forever.

In a way, the moment would indeed last forever. I hugged my teammates; no words were exchanged, none were necessary. We didn’t say goodbye. We walked together out of the closing ceremony, blending into the crowd of family and friends, making our way to pick up our gear and get in our cars and drive home, back to our regular lives.

But those lives are different now – maybe not by a great deal – yet they are different. I know, because one of the lives that changed was…mine.

Day 2 – Familiar Places

After a few hours (or perhaps 15 minutes, I’m not sure) of restless sleep, I finally crawled out of my sleeping bag and bright pink tent around 5:30 AM to greet a cool, crisp Saturday morning. It was still dark and dew covered the ground…and pretty much everything else.
I met a couple of my teammates, Deb and Sheri, for a hearty breakfast of scrambled eggs, bacon, fried potatoes, oatmeal and orange juice. For others, hot black coffee was definitely the order of the day!

Shortly after 7:00 AM, Dawn and Maria and I started walking. We followed the path out of the park, through a quiet neighborhood, and turned onto the Gateway Trail, which extends east into downtown St. Paul and west out to Stillwater. The trail passed by my old junior high school, now known as John Glenn Middle School, and through parts of Maplewood and North St. Paul, where I lived with my family for more than 12 years.

I lost Dawn and Maria in the busyness of our first pit stop, but I enjoyed walking on my own (note that I did not say “alone”, as I was in the company of dozens of other women…and a few men). I noted familiar places, like the streets where the parents of my high school classmates still live and the private country club that used to remind my friend Eric of the movie “Caddyshack”. Our walking path took us off the sidewalk and onto a trail through a quiet, wooded park

By the time I passed through the second pit stop, the thin clouds had drifted away and the sun came out. We followed a narrow sidewalk for several blocks, walking close together along a road that lead to the first cheering station of the day. Hundreds of people lined both sides of the sidewalk, cheering and clapping and offering candy, popsicles, high-fives, and hugs – all of which were most welcome. My parents and sister and two young nieces were there and I stopped to say hello for a few minutes. Although my parents had been to the closing ceremonies in years past, my family didn’t really know what it was like to be along the route and see the long train of hundreds of walkers. They were amazed.

After the cheering station, we got off the main roads and walked through a semi-quiet neighborhood, then entered Battle Creek Park in St. Paul. I met up with Tricia, a breast cancer survivor who I’d met last year, but hadn’t yet seen on the walk this year. We walked on the gently rolling path, snaking our way through the woods, under a clear blue sky.

The trail left the park, where we took a break at another pit stop. The break was much needed, as we then began walking up a long incline – okay, it was a big damn hill! At the top of the hill, we had to walk up to a pedestrian bridge that crossed the road we’d just been on. And on the other side of the bridge, we walked up few more small hills, to Indian Mounds Park. Even though the park afforded a scenic view of downtown St. Paul and the Mississippi River, we were pretty well sick and tired of walking uphill for a while. Fortunately, it was really the only significant hilly stretch of the path all day.

I stopped for lunch – and to get out of my shoes – around 12:30. I finally found a few of my teammates, including Dawn and Maria, some of whom had been troubled with blisters and had gotten a much-needed ride from one of the pit stops to lunch. Some of them knew they couldn’t walk comfortably any longer and they wisely chose to just take the bus directly to camp. They were a little sad that they couldn’t at least walk to the afternoon cheering station, where a couple of our friends would be waiting, but it was the smart thing to do.

The afternoon was warm and sunny. I walked with teammate, and first-time walker, Ali. The route took us through the east side of St. Paul, to Lake Phalen, where I’d spent my summers during college with my three best friends – walking around the lake, hanging out at the beach, hitting tennis balls from inside the court ,over the fence and out onto the road. (Hey, I wasn’t always a perfect citizen.)

We were greeted by hundreds more well-wishers at the cheering station near the lake, including Renata and Arlene, who walked in the 3-Day each of the three previous years, and members of our teammate Nancy’s family. It is such an uplifting feeling to have so many people cheering people they don’t know, as well as seeing friends and loved ones.

We left the cheering station and made our way around most of the lake, pausing for a few minutes at the final pit stop of the day. After that short break, we continued on for the last few, seemingly interminable, miles. We finally reached our campsite shortly after 4:00, cheered once again by crew members and fellow walkers who had already arrived, ending a long, 21-mile day.

A hot shower…an acceptable dinner…relaxing during the evening program in the dining tent (wonderful stories told by three inspiring walkers)…and falling fast asleep in the relative comfort of my sleeping bag.

Two days down, one more to go!

Day 1 – On The Trail

The first hour of the first day is an incredible sight – a steady stream of humanity, men and women walking two or three abreast (pun intended), a flow extending uninterrupted for more than two miles. It is the only time during the 3-Day where everyone begins walking at the same moment.

We walked through the normally quiet suburban streets of Coon Rapids, in an area that my teammates and I knew well from our training. When we turned into Coon Rapids Dam Regional Park and followed a trail through the woods along the river, it felt like just another Saturday – aside from the fact it was Friday and that we were accompanied by a couple thousand new walking partners.

I met two women, Mary, who was walking in her second 3-day, and her friend Melissa, who Mary had persuaded to walk in her first 3-Day. I met two of my teammates, Georgia and Laurie, who I hadn’t met before (at least I don’t remember meeting them). And I met two guys from Michigan, who were walking for their wives.

We walked most of the morning along a trail that followed the Mississippi River. We walked under a canopy of elms and oaks, and through neighborhoods past houses with well-maintained lawns and gardens. After the second pit stop, where we refilled water bottles and emptied our…well, you know..., we moved out of the neighborhoods and onto a more heavily road. The skies were clearing, the sun was out, the day was well underway. People in passing cars honked and waved. Drivers who were stopped at intersections watched in disbelief as hundreds of people walked by.

We approached the first “cheering station” of the weekend, a designated place where friends and family cheered the walkers. I heard it before I saw it. People lined both sides of the sidewalk for two blocks, cheering and clapping and holding signs with the names of the walkers they knew. They cheered every walker – "Thank you!"...Great job, walkers!" I walked with two women I had met less than half a mile earlier, twins named Traci and Tanya. (I’d never been with twins before…but that’s another story.) They were walking for their stepmother, a breast cancer survivor, who happened to be waiting for them at the cheering station with a sign with their names on it, thanking them for walking. The twins saw their stepmother and rushed to hug her. I took a picture of the three of them together and then left to continue on my way.

Somehow, I had lost my teammates. As funny as it sounds, that happens a lot. Unless you’re walking with just one or two others and always walk with them and go through every pit stop together, it’s easy to be standing near someone in a crowd of people, turn around and not see them. And often, I’ve found that it’s a lot tougher to walk at the same pace with a slower (or faster) walker during the 3-Day, when there are hundreds of other people to walk with, than it is during a training walk, when it’s just two or three or four people walking together.

So I walked on my own for a while. I met a woman named Carol, a utilities supervisor for the city of Apple Valley. She was in her fifties, walking in her first 3-Day. She had never done anything like this before, but she told me she “just wanted to do something.” I told her that she picked a pretty impressive “something.”

I passed by small groups of people along the route, standing on street corners or sitting in lawn chairs, waiting to see walkers they knew. Many held signs; some had bowls of candy or popsicles; a few had noisemakers – anything to keep urging on the walkers. As I walked by one of the small groups, a woman called out to me, “Hey, I remember you, you’ve walked a lot in past years!” I didn’t recognize her, she could have been anybody – maybe someone who had walked in the 3-Day before. But she recognized me. I would see her again during the walk – on Saturday morning and afternoon at the cheering stations and on Sunday afternoon at the finish area. I never got her name. But I know I’ll remember her, just as she remembers me.

We stopped for lunch at a school in Mounds View, within sight of interstate highway 35W. I used the…ahem…facilities (okay, I’ll say it – we call them porta-potties…and after three miles of continuous walking – and drinking – they’re the prettiest things you’ve ever seen), then I filled my water bottles, got my lunch and looked for my teammates. We sat in the shade of a tree on the side of a hill, overlooking the baseball fields in the schoolyard. I saw Maria, one of our teammates working on the crew. Her job in the lunch area was to walk around in a leprechaun costume, greeting walkers (see photo in web album). And then I saw Jim and Terry, two more teammates, also working on the lunch crew. They were emptying trash containers – while wearing kilts (see photo in web album). Yes, my female teammates asked them if they were wearing anything under the kilts. No, they didn’t answer. And no, I didn’t want to know!

After lunch, I walked in the warm sunshine with two of my teammates, Dawn and Maria, through Rice Creek Park and along the streets of Shoreview. We talked and laughed with each other and with the other walkers, all of whom formed a caravan, of sorts. We admired the homes, waved to passing vehicles, endured the long steady incline of the path, and gave hugs and high-fives to the men and women of the safety crew, who made sure we crossed each intersection safely.

Finally, after nearly 20 miles (and a lot of questions about the accuracy of those signs that read “Pit Stop - 1 Mile Ahead”), we came to the end of our first day. Due to the layout of the trail, we were actually bused from the final pit stop in Shoreview to our campsite at Harvest Park in Maplewood. We got off the bus, made sure our walking muscles still worked after sitting for 20 minutes, and entered camp to the cheers of walkers and crew. As many times as I've walked into camp at the end of the day, I never get tired of that wonderful feeling of being welcomed "home".

We did it – we made it through Day 1!

Day 1 – Opening Ceremony

My day started at 4:30 AM. After a quick breakfast and a last-minute check of my gear (and making sure there wasn’t anything left in the kitchen that might turn into a science experiment over the next three days), I drove to my teammate Ali’s house to catch a ride to the start of the Twin Cities 3-Day at Anoka-Ramsey Community College in Coon Rapids. The neighborhoods were dark and quiet. No normal people were up at this hour.

Ali’s husband Brad was kind enough to drive us and didn’t appear to be at all bothered by the idea of such an early start to his day. Less than a mile from the college, we realized a number of others weren't bothered either. By 5:30, there was already a seemingly endless trail of cars and minivans and SUVs lined up on the road leading into the college’s parking lot, where we dropped off our gear and gathered for the opening ceremonies.

I met my teammates and we anxiously awaited the start of our special weekend together. Before long, the early morning darkness faded into the light of day. The ceremonies began with greetings from 3-Day staff to the walkers and crew, followed by a group stretch. (Ever see a couple thousand people stretching all at once? Quite the sight, especially when they do the stretches that involve bending over.)

During the ceremony, walkers carried in flags with words such as “hope”, “healing”, “love”, “dreams”, “celebrations”, and “victories”. These flags had already been carried at the previous 3-Day walks this year in Boston, Chicago, and Cleveland, and they would be carried by walkers throughout the ensuing three days here in the Twin Cities, to remind us all of why we are here. As these flags made their way to the stage, a special group of survivors gathered on a platform. They stood in a circle, joined hands and raised them high in the air – a sign of victory, symbolizing the victories already won and the true victory yet to come. All around me, women were cheering and crying. It wouldn’t be the last time.

Then the music started, the gates opened and shortly after 7:00 AM on August 24th, the 2007 Twin Cities Breast Cancer 3-Day began. 2,500 walkers streamed out onto the street, cheered on by family and friends. I heard a voice call out, “Hi Scott!”, and I turned to see Geralyn, a woman from my church, who was standing on the sidewalk, cheering walkers, including her daughter. It was a great feeling to see a familiar face – one of many, actually – as I started my own little journey.

Soon, the sound of the music faded away, replaced by the sound of sneakers on pavement combined with the sounds of excitable talking and laughing. The anticipation was over. The “event” was here. It was happening…now. The clouds parted and the sun came out.

We were all now on our way.

WE DID IT!!!

Another year, another amazing event...I'm back from the Twin Cities 3-Day, taking a day to rest and reflect - and to gather together the sights and sounds and images from the weekend.

I'll be posting stories and pictures soon...stay tuned!

People Get Ready

The training is over!!! We had a wet final weekend here in the Twin Cities to get in a few more miles, but according to your unofficial Twin Cities 3-Day meteorologist (uh, that would be me), that means we'll have warm and sunny weather for the 3-Day. Right? RIGHT???

For those of you who have taken valuable time out of your busy schedules to check in with me here on the road to the 3-Day, I thank you! I've had a great time sharing these often nonsensical ramblings with you.

Thanks for all the support you've given me in the form of donations, thoughts, prayers and well wishes.

But we're not quite done yet...On Friday morning, the "end" of our journey together begins. If you'd like to keep track of where we are during the course of the weekend, click here for a map of the route. This is the first year the folks at the 3-Day have given us this much information about the route in advance. I know all of us walkers have been passing it along to friends and family, so they can keep tabs on our every move. On the other hand, maybe I liked it better when I couldn't tell my family where I was going to be (insert evil laugh here).

I've got to get back to checking my packing list and making my final preparations. I won't be back here until next week, when I will have posted all the wonderful details of my experience on the 2007 Twin Cities Breast Cancer 3-Day.

Until then...be well!

What's Really Important, Part 3

Over the weekend, I learned the identity of the man who will be my tentmate for this year's 3-Day. His name is Dave Stankoski and he is walking for a very special reason.

Dave’s wife Jean lost her ten-year battle with breast cancer last November. The pictures on his web site – and those on the sites of his “Team Jean” teammates – show a woman with a beautiful spirit that will no doubt live in the hearts of those who loved her.

I read about Jean on Dave’s web site and learned that she was a fighter, always positive that she would beat the disease. Her bright blue eyes do not show sadness, even when lying in a hospital bed, with her two daughters close by. As it became clear that she would succumb to the cancer, she offered her battle as a helpful bit of information, hoping that her doctors could use her experience to save someone else. I can imagine her smiling, as she tells the doctor, “Help the rest of them.”

The members of Team Jean walked in the 2005 & 2006 3-Day to honor her. She was there for them – supporting them with a warm bed the night before the event, cheering them at the opening ceremony, and welcoming them home at the closing ceremony.

This year Team Jean will again be walking to honor her, though this time it will be to honor the memory of a mother, wife, sister and friend who was – and still is – an inspiration.

I look forward to meeting Dave and telling him that I am honored to be sharing this event with him. A picture on his web site shows him with his wife, dancing at their wedding. His broad smile displays not only his love for Jean, but also a faith in the knowledge of what this life is all about. I hope to shake his hand and see that smile, so that I, too, will be reminded of what’s really important.

Last "Long" Weekend

No, I don't mean that we've had the last long, three- (or four-) day weekend of the summer – after all, Labor Day is still a few weeks away. To those of us preparing for the Twin Cities Breast Cancer 3-Day, the last "long" weekend means that we've made it through the last of the long training walks!

Granted, our definition of what constitutes a long walk is markedly different from that of a normal person. (Of course, my definition of “normal” is in and of itself an issue I won’t go into here.) So to be clear, I’ll say that the recommended training schedule called for 18 miles on Saturday, the longest training day of the summer – and the second time I have trained at that distance in the past three weeks.

We’re now in the homestretch, it’s all downhill from here, and…well, maybe I’m getting ahead of myself a bit.

First of all, allow me to recognize three of my training partners from this past Saturday, Ali, Karen, and Dawn – shown from left to right in the picture above. They unknowingly posed for this photo, which I just couldn’t resist taking. Contrary to popular belief, this is not emblematic of the primary reason I walk in the 3-Day…but it’s definitely in the top 5!

Our Saturday in the park was actually a Saturday around the lakes – Calhoun, Harriet and Lake of the Isles in Minneapolis. We began our little stroll under partly cloudy skies, with a cool breeze at our backs. The air smelled of approaching rain – we would soon feel a few sprinkles, but we went forth, unconcerned. In fact, most of us preferred the prospects of a cool rain to the hot and steamy sunshine, predicted for later in the afternoon.

The first hour and a half found us walking around Lake of the Isles. We admired the large, elegant homes. (No, I’m not buying that one for my teammates. Nor that one. Or that one…So stop asking!!!) Great, mature shade trees ringed the lake, arching over the path to shield walkers from the sun and offering perfect locations to lay down with a good book on a lazy summer’s day – that is, if one of those lovely trees wasn’t laying on the ground, uprooted by the previous evening’s thunderstorms!

As for the rest of the day…well, it was sunny and warm; the downtown Minneapolis skyline seemed to sparkle, reflecting the clear, robin’s egg blue sky. The good people of the city walked and ran and biked; their toned and muscular bodies glistened with sweat, their eyes held a combination of determination and joy. A boy, perhaps four or five years old, stood at the edge of the water, near the Lake Harriet bandshell picnic area, with his arms wrapped around his mother’s neck, as she sat and threw pieces of bread to a gathering of ducks. Windsurfers criss-crossed the lake, skipping over the waves, dodging sailboats and kayaks.

I met one of our new teammates, Elizabeth, a tall, blue-eyed blonde, and learned that she attended St. Olaf College at or about the same time as my cousin Carrie. I talked to another teammate, Ali, about a singles volunteering group, which I joined a couple of years ago, but hadn’t participated in any events in over a year, though I intended to “get back into it once this walking thing is over”. Coincidentally, Ali met her husband through the same singles volunteering group! Perhaps there is hope for me yet.

And, of course, there was the usual conversation about women’s undergarments and feminine hygiene, which I have become all to used to, in a strange – yet masculine – way.

Our day finally ended, with four of us – of our original party of nine – returning to the parking lot where we started. We got into our air-conditioned vehicles and headed home to shower and relax…and perhaps enjoy a cold beverage (or two).

P.S. Sunday – Beautiful morning…cool, clear sunshine…8 easy miles with Mary and Maria…home by 11:00…plenty of time to sit out on the deck with a good book and ignore yard work.

Return To Normalcy

I’m a little overdue in offering a new post, since coming back from a short out-of-town trip. I intended to write about how nice it was to have a break from weekend training and how I enjoyed spending time with many relatives I hadn’t seen in years. I was going to even joke about how I called my walking teammates on Sunday morning on my way to a late breakfast with my cousin and his two sons, after we had slept in, while the walkers were well into a 15-mile training day in the heat and humidity of late July.

The events here in Minneapolis last Wednesday evening seemed to sap whatever motivation I had to write about something so trivial.

On the other hand, it is the trivial, the mundane, the relatively inconsequential moments of daily life that allows us to return to normalcy. Most of us know that there is little we can do in the wake of the collapse of the I-35W Mississippi River Bridge, other than keep the victims and their families – as well as the injured and those working at the site – in our thoughts and prayers. We hope the missing will be found, the debris will be safely cleared away, and the questions will be answered, so that the rebuilding can soon begin.

Aside from that, our role is to get up every morning, acknowledge the gift of life with which we are blessed, and go to work or school as we always do.

It is not denial or ignorance or even self-involvement. It is an act of faith, one that has to do with being called to do our part, however small it may seem.

On Wednesday night, I sat in a restaurant with my 3-Day teammates. We were having our monthly gathering, the last time we would all be together until Day 1 on August 24. Initially, we were awed by the pictures of a collapsed bridge, shown on the large TV screens, and could not look away. But soon, we forced ourselves to focus our attention away from the destruction. For the remainder of the evening, while our eyes occasionally drifted back to the televisions, we appreciated the opportunity to be with each other.

I talked with the women sitting next to me; exchanging stories of our respective weekend activities. Tracy told me about her vacation day at a local beach, her training for an upcoming bike race, the lack of players on her church softball team, and the migraine headache that troubled her for several days. Dawn told me about the 18 miles they walked around the lakes in Minneapolis last Saturday and the 15 miles they walked in and around Bunker Hills Park on Sunday. She showed me the blisters that resulted from those walks and wondered aloud how in the world she was going to survive the 3-Day.

I spoke of how my family surprised my aunt and uncle with our visit, in honor of their 50th wedding anniversary. I said that I spent most of the weekend with my cousin Michael, eating too much, drinking my fair share, and laughing at our relatives. (That is, until they opened boxes of old family photographs, which contained a few shots of us as children, wearing “how could you do that to me?” clothes and hairstyles.) I visited the Baseball Hall of Fame and Museum, along with thousands of others who were there for the induction of Cal Ripken, Jr. and Tony Gwynn.

Afterwards, I went home and sorted through the mail and newspapers and laundry that had accumulated in the previous six days. I went to bed and got up in the morning, as I always do – well, not quite like I always do. I did my best to do my work on Thursday and Friday. I e-mailed and called friends, to assure them that I was safe.

And this weekend, I walked – 10 miles on Saturday and eight on Sunday, returning to my training. It was my attempt at a return to normalcy.