Walking for a Cause

I had my doubts about signing up for this event, a 39.3 mile walk that raises funds and awareness for the Avon Foundation for Women: For starters, I hate fundraising. I’m one of those people who feels embarrassed and guilty asking people for money, and participants have to raise at least $1800 in order to walk. Second, I could convince none of my friends to do the walk with me so signing up would mean doing the two day walk alone.

What finally made me take the plunge? Quite frankly, I’d had a bad year. No really, an entire year of conflict tipped off by family hardships last summer and capped by months of fruitless job searching, returning early from a country I’d meant to make my own, and moving back in with my parents (something I swore I’d never do). I felt deflated, as though everything I tried to do or make happen for myself fell apart.

It was at this time I started seeing commercials for the Avon Walk and remembered a good friend of mine telling me what an amazing experience she had participating. I’d done quite a few fundraisers before, in high-school and college, but never anything of this magnitude. I remember thinking I’d love to do it, especially since breast cancer is a cause that has affected my family – my grandmother died from it and my aunt is a survivor. Still it scared me, especially when I realized I’d be doing it by myself. I think that’s exactly why I did it. I needed to feel part of something again. And I desperately needed a sense of agency, a personal win. So I signed up and hoped it would turn out alright.

I suppose I didn’t have very high expectations going in. I’m not a particularly sentimental person and, as a long distance runner, the thought of walking long distances didn’t seem like that big of a deal. This was the mindset I had while I nervously bounced up and down before the opening ceremony, waiting for the walk to start. Then the speakers came onto the stage for the send off, they talked about their lost loved ones, family members who were too sick to even come and cheer, and of personal triumph over breast cancer. It was a short ceremony, but it was candid and raw and at seven o’clock in the morning that Saturday I felt more awake than I had in months. I fought back tears and realized, for the first time that this wasn’t just something I was doing, that I was doing something; something that meant a great deal to a lot of other people.

I truly didn’t anticipate the passion, dedication, and love that permeated the walk on every level. There were also scores of supporters who came out –family members, friends, store owners, and random people who lived in the houses we passed. Some of them followed us all day, travelling to different spots along the route to cheer us on. I couldn’t begin to count how many times people said, “thank you, thank you for walking.” There were very few times on the walk that I ever felt alone – the vast majority of the time I was walking and talking with other women who openly shared their stories and laughs. I didn’t expect it to be moving, but it was.  

I should also stress that, despite my nonchalance, it wasn’t easy. I hit a wall at mile 11, not even half-way through the first day’s 26.2 mile walk. Around mile 14 I strained a muscle that would never stop hurting. By mile 20 I had to strap an icepack to my leg and through literally gritted teeth limp the last six miles. That was day one. Yet, as with any trying experience it brought everyone together. Many come back year after year to slog through the streets of Chicago, not for glory or the satisfaction of a “personal best” like you might get in running, but because it’s a way of saying something, doing something in the face of a disease that still claims almost 41,000 lives a year. 

When I signed up, I did it for me. What I realized along the course of the walk was that it isn’t even remotely about me. Life isn’t always a series of wins and failures, sometimes it’s an awful year that ends with an opportunity to participate in something wonderful. And even though my ankles haven’t quite healed and I still have problems walking up-stairs, I can’t wait to do the walk again.

Resources: www.avonwalk.org/