26.2 things to be grateful for on a 26.2 mile walk

On September 21, for the fourth time, the members of Team Diane participated in the Boston Marathon Jimmy Fund Walk. And then, as always happens, life came rushing right back in, and I didn’t get to write the blog post I’d planned for the next day. But what stands out in my mind even now, two weeks later, is one over-arching feeling: gratitude. And I realize that even as I walked I was making a mental list in my head. Writing it down just now, it was hard to stop at 26. What was I grateful for? Well, among other things:

1. You! My dear friends, your words of encouragement and support filled my soul and gave wings to my feet. “Thank you” doesn’t begin to express my gratitude!

2. You, again. Thanks to your generous donations, I exceeded my own fund-raising goal this year. But more importantly, all the money raised by our group – over $30,000 this year alone — goes directly to Dana Farber oncologist Dr. Ursula Matulonis and her team of researchers, dedicated to finding better treatments for women’s cancers. Together, we’re making a real difference, improving the odds for every woman being diagnosed or treated today.

3. Team Diane! I feel blessed to be a part of this spirited band of women walking arm-in-arm for a cause that’s touched all our lives.

4. Marching orders. How proud our friend would be to see that we’re carrying on this work she herself began with such passion. This was the legacy Diane hoped for and the instruction she left us with: To live our own lives fully, and to do whatever we can to ensure better futures for all women with ovarian cancer.

5. Husbands. You know who you are: the ones who willingly got up at four in the morning and caravanned on the Mass Pike out to Hopkinton to deliver the members of Team Diane to the starting line. And my own husband, Steve, who not only took photos from start to finish but trailed along the route as sweep, ready to offer a ride to any one of us who needed to bail out. Hats off to you guys!

6. The heavens. They opened, the rains poured down for a solid hour and then, as if by magic or grace, the skies cleared at 6 am. We balled up our un-used slickers, tightened our sneakers, and put our hands together for a “Go Team” salute.

7. My new chiropractor. “No, it’s not a pulled muscle,” she said a few weeks ago, when I first arrived at her office, after limping with a mysterious hip and leg injury for over ten months. “I’m pretty sure it’s referred nerve pain from your L1 vertebrae, and that you’ll feel better after I adjust you.” She was right. I did. (Still mending, but at least I’m walking without wincing.)

8. Wright socks. If you, too, have tender feet, these really should be your socks.

9. Dr. Scholl’s Blister Defense Stick. A serious walker’s secret weapon, generously applied every couple of hours — and generously shared with anyone who has yet to discover that prevention is worth a pound of cure.  

10. The guys with the cowbells.Not sure why it’s uplifting to have cowbells rung for you en route, but it is, and we love them.
11. Porta-potties. Clean ones. For obvious reasons.
12. Enthusiasm. The cheers, the honks, the waves, the home-made signs, the lemonade stands manned by little kids in front of their houses, the orange slices handed out by the elderly couple in Newton, the man with the beautiful golden retriever who parks his truck every few miles and sets up his boom-box and plays music just to be nice, the thumbs-up from passersby, the hoots from dorm windows. Yes, we are all connected, and the energy of this day is infectious.
13. Tunes! Here’s to uplifting music, to a great playlist at every rest stop along the way, to songs from the pantheon that keep even the limp and the lame dancing, singing, and walking on. I’ve still got Stevie Wonder melodies running through my head.
14. Amazing volunteers. There are hundreds, every single one of them wearing a smile and making sure we thousands of walkers have everything needed to keep us putting one foot in front of the other. They put stickers on bibs, dispense high-fives and water and Gatorade and Luna Bars and apples, and make a point of thanking each and every one of us for every mile walked. The walkers walk, but the volunteers make it possible.
15. Stories. You hear about the woman who was diagnosed with stage four terminal cancer twice, and who is walking today, thirteen years later, in good health. You hear from the thirteen-year-old boys who are walking for a classmate with leukemia and who are determined to go all the way this year. You hear about a friend whose remission didn’t last. You listen. You cry. You pray. You say thank you. You walk further then you thought you could because, at least for today, you can.
16. Texts. There are a few special people each year who not only donate to the cause, but hold me in their hearts all day. And you know what? There’s no better feeling than this: knowing somebody somewhere is thinking of you, right now, at this very moment, wishing you well, cheering you on. A few words tapped into a phone, sent, and received are enough to lift a spirit, make a mile easier, warm a heart.
17. Time. The beauty of a ten-hour walk: there’s time enough to experience everything and space enough to let all your feelings flow in and wash right back out again – grief and relief, misery and bliss, exhaustion and exhilaration. Walk all day long and you get a glimpse of the full human catastrophe, or, as the Buddhists say, “this realm of ten thousand woes, ten thousand joys.”
18. Good friends. We urge each other on, tend to each other’s swollen feet, commiserate with each other’s aches and pains, and celebrate every single mile walked together. And we get to be side by side all day long, sharing the ups and downs and ins and outs of work, marriages, kids, and anything else that needs to be aired or debated or commiserated over. It probably goes without saying, but: none of us could do this alone.
19. Strangers. 8500 of them. And you aren’t too many miles into this thing before you realize: every one of your fellow walkers suddenly feels like a friend, a fellow traveler, another pilgrim on this path toward healing and hope.      
20. Memories. Some of us have done this walk for years now; some remember doing it with Diane, even after she got sick; some joined our group this September for the very first time. But we all walk with memories of past walks, and with memories of loved ones who have passed, and with memories that make each passing mile even more meaningful. We may walk in the present moment, but we carry in our hearts the memories of other days, other walks, other friends.
21. Yoga. We are ladies of a certain age. Fortunately, we’ve learned the benefits of stretching before, during, and after a walk. And at lunch time, we all take off our sneakers, form a circle, and share a yoga practice. This year, I got to lead us through our down-dogs and hip openers and hamstring stretches. An honor.
22. Ibuprofen. Because yoga alone doesn’t do it.
    
23. Carol Cashion. All the good intentions in the world aren’t enough to inspire and mobilize a group of busy, distracted, geographically scattered women and deliver them in the dark to a Boston suburb on a Sunday morning in September. We need a team captain for that, and I can’t imagine anyone who could do a better job of leading us through the maze of details than my dear friend Carol, logistics queen and the heart and soul of our collective mission. (Yes, the T-shirts do say 2013, but we wore ’em again in 2014.)
24. The finish line. There’s nothing to compare with the moment. A long walk may be a small thing in the great scheme of life, but it’s a small thing done with much love. And when we link arms and proceed together across that line in Copley Square, laughing and crying and celebrating, we know this for sure: the love flows in all directions, and in ways that transcend both time and space.
25. Boston. Our home city, vibrant and generous of spirit, willing not only to welcome this monumental interruption on an autumn Sunday, but to embrace the cause, the crowds, and all the commotion, too. How lucky we are to walk a route that leads us straight into the heart of the town we all love.
26. Dinner. We’re a group that cherishes tradition, from our homemade scones on the ride out to Hopkinton to our team photos at the half-way point. And perhaps the most appreciated tradition, the one that keeps us going year after year, is the lovely dinner party hosted by Diane’s husband at the end of the day. A hot shower, a pair of flip-flops, a glass of champagne, good food, the joy of being together.

1. .2 You. One last time. Because you joined me on this journey, and that’s really what made it worth doing.My heartfelt “thank you” to all who donated.  And congratulations to Tanya Wilkinson, winner of Mary Oliver’s New and Selected Poems, Volume One.