If one pair of Brooks is good . . . . four is better???

If you’ve been reading my blog, you know that the past 24 weeks has been challenging, in a myriad of ways. One of the ways has to do with my footwear for this Walk.  When I was little, Keds were “in” – your choice of color was white, or white, so at the start of school each year, we’d make the yearly trek to the Walt Whitman Mall in Huntington, NY. First stop – Baker’s Shoes.  My mom and I would scan the shoes in the window, give the man the # and size of the one I was interested in and he’d disappear in the back, only to re-appear in a few minutes with two boxes – one in the size I requested, and another in the next half-size up, just in case. That’s when my Dad would spring into action. He’d put the shoe on my foot, have me stand, and then with his thumb, he’d press down on the toe of the shoe to see where my big toe was. It hurt, but no matter. Then,  He’d squeeze the sides of the shoe around my foot to see if it fit width-wise, then have me walk away from him, then back towards him.  This process would continue ‘til we found the right shoe – size wise, heel height-wise, color-wise.  When we left the store, I was smiling with the shoe box under my arm, my mom was smiling ‘cause she could cross another “to-do item” off her list, and my dad was smiling because he had successfully fitted me with another pair of shoes. Big day in our family.  Sneakers were always purchased at either Korvettes or Modell’s. Each of the Silva-kids were outfitted with ONE pair of sneakers: they were usually on sale; they were always white (no other choice at that time), and they were usually Keds because the only other kind was the store-brand which had no staying power (per my mom).  This pair was to last the entire school year – when dirty, they’d get washed; when scuffed, they’d be “painted” with white shoe paint; when the big toe popped through, then and only then were a new pair purchased. 

When I became an adult, I pretty much followed the same routine (although there was that one year when I had two pairs of Reeboks at the same time – one pink, one blue . . .). The best sneakers were the cheapest as far as I was concerned. No matter that the tread was gone on the bottom, the better to dance the twist (have you ever tried to dance like chubby Checker with a well-tractioned pair of sneakers??). Unless that big toe came peeking through, that sneaker was good to go. So, all this to say, it was with much trepidation that I researched my first pair of official, train-for-the-walk, good for your feet, sneakers at Dicks Sporting Goods. I told the salesman (and I use that term lightly-- I have underwear older than this young man) that a good sneaker to me is one that is on sale at Kohl’s for $30 or under.  After explaining my hairline fracture issue on my left arch, he pointed me to the Brooks Adrenaline, a snappy looking pair of light blue sneakers. He explained that because it was last year’s model, I could actually save $30.00 on the current model. SOLD! The next day, I discarded my $30 Kohl’s pair of New Balance, and walked five miles in my Brooks -- really; still reeling from the price, but loving how comfortable my feet felt --- maybe there was something to “you get what you pay for.”  After several weeks, a second pair was purchased – this time, in pink!  In my usual fashion, I waited WAY too long before purchasing a third pair, but given my history with sneaks, i.e. see above, it was difficult to bring myself to split with the bucks required.  At the 21 week mark, on a Wednesday, IT happened….the dreaded plantar’s fasciitis struck my right foot! That first morning, I couldn’t put any weight on the heel, at all!  The next day, with the aid of a cane (a gag gift to my son for his 21^st birthday), I hobbled my way into a specialty sneaker store – after measuring my foot a half dozen ways, watching my walk, and asking many questions about my training, and my treatment of my feet when NOT training, they determined that the sneakers that I had been wearing for the past 21 weeks were not good for my feet, and recommended another Brooks style that would help with my faciitis.  I bought it – at that point, I would have bought anything if it brought some relief, and it did, for a week and a half, but now the arch in my left foot was hurting. So, back to another store I went, and after spending over an hour speaking with a “sneaker expert” (who knew?), I left with yet another pair of Brooks, different style, which was supposedly the best of both worlds – more arch support like the first style, softer heel like the second style.  I wore them “indoors” for a few days, and they are not comfortable, at all! 

So, here we are two days before the big weekend, and if you’re keeping count,  I have four pairs of sneakers, three different styles, and my right foot is presently elevated, with ice, and a throbbing pain in the heel.  I have no idea which pair I’ll wear, I don’t have a spare pair, and at this point, I don’t really care.  It’s even crossed my mind to wear two different sneakers, but I’m told that’ll just throw my body out of whack, and lead to hip problems – OY! The only thing I’m sure of is that, Lord willing, I will be walking this weekend – in which sneaker – the blue, pink, aqua, or neon green?  Your guess is as good as mine!

These are the people in my neighborhood...

If you have children, you have probably heard this song, ad nauseum while watching Sesame Street with them. If you are a young person, you probably sang this song with your parents. For some reason, during one day’s walk, this song came into my mind, and wouldn’t let go.  I hummed it going up the hills, I hummed it going down the hills, then graduated to singing it out loud at an upbeat tempo to keep myself moving forward at a quick pace for the last couple of miles. I have seen and met so many nice people the past 23 weeks. You can learn a lot about people just by walking past their homes repeatedly. 

Let me introduce you to some of the people I’ve waved to/spoken to/learned to avoid during my walks –

• there’s the man who lets his dogs out on the front lawn to do their business, while he stands on the lawn and reads the paper. When they’re done, they wait on the porch, until he finishes and lets them back into the house
• the woman who used to be a jogger, but now, due to arthritis in her legs, can only walk two blocks, which she does, every morning, in her bathrobe and slippers, and three times, she joined me as I was passing her house
• the old man who walks his golden retriever three times a day – the dog’s name is Toby, have no clue what the man’s name is
• Lawn woman is obsessed with moving the sprinkler hither and yon until every inch of her greenery has been doused
• the Walking Whistler, who is about 80 years old. He walks as if someone is chasing him, the whole time whistling some unknown tune – honestly, it gets on my nerves! 
• the woman who “dresses” her plastic lawn ducks in costumes based on whatever the season/holiday is – right now, one is dressed like a witch, the other like a pumpkin.
• the miniature dachshund, who joins its master jogging and runs as if its life depends on it, always a few steps ahead of its owner with its tongue swinging in the breeze.
• the Charlotte-Mecklenburg policeman who keeps his lawn trimmed with a GIANT John Deere tractor that takes about three passes to complete the mowing.
•  a very SENIOR citizen that walks like Tim Conway, I kid you not! – for those who don’t know who that is, shame on you! 
• The couple from NJ that is moving back after 6 years so that they can be closer to their children/grandchildren – the upstairs of their 3500 sq. ft. custom house has never been used!  
•  The grandma that rides her “little rascal” up a steep driveway to the mailbox – that’s one of the ways she helps around the house. (btw, her cat accompanies her to and from the box.)
• The young woman walking her Golden-Poo (a cross between a Standard Poodle and Golden Retriever) – every time I’ve seen her, she is talking on her cell – who has that much to talk about?? 
• The Bible Study Teacher who is new to NC (from Washington D.C.). We spoke for well over an 2 hours one day about our lives, our families, our hopes and dreams, and God’s place in it all.
• The Vietnamese man who lovingly tends to his beautiful flower garden daily.
• The young girl who can be found curled up on a chair on her front porch, reading a book as early as 7:00 a.m.
• The couple whose corner property is pristine, whose home would make Martha Stewart proud, but whose personalities are cold as ice – not once in the numerous times I have passed them sitting on their porch, did they EVER wave, smile, or utter a word. How rude!!
•  The landscapers in SailView – I’m there when they’re there and we’ve weathered the heat, rain and morning fog together
• an elderly gentleman who walks his shihtzu at Jetton Park on Thursday mornings; he’s much friendlier than the dog (what’s wrong with that breed that they’re so nasty)
• The Lincoln County Sheriff that patrols SailView; has a great smile, and started giving me two-thumbs up the third week in! (hard not to recognize the limping woman in pink J)

There’ve been entrepreneurs along the way too  – all under 12 years old

• the brother and sister selling lemonade
• two friends selling cherry slushies – they sat at the side of the road for 6 hours, and what a treat it was as the temperature had climbed to well over 90 degrees by the time the walk was over.
• one young man who sold duct-tape wallets for $1 apiece; he was the first salesman I came across, and taught me that you should always carry cash on you, just in case you need to frequent a local vendorJ

So, now…  you know “the people in my neighborhood, in the neighborhood, they’re in the neighborhood…and these are the people in the neighborhood, the people that you meet each day!”

21 weeks down, 3 to go!

Hi everyone – wanted to touch base with you and let you know what’s happening, just three weeks shy of the REAL thing. That’s right, three weeks from tonight, two-thirds of THE walk will be over, and only 20 miles will be left to complete.  It’s been a LONG 21 weeks – challenging in ways I never expected, wonderful in ways I couldn’t have imagined…..and you’ve all helped in a myriad of ways. First off, thanks so much for your donations to the cause. The $2300 seemed insurmountable at the start, but your generosity made it look easy. If you want to know more about how the funds raised are put to the best use, check out the website: www.the3day.org. It explains it better than I ever could. The encouragement you sent my way, via notes, cards, emails, fb messages, and texts seemed to be perfectly timed with my bouts of doubts  (my dad always said I’d be a poet). Loved the messages that some of you left on my wall – they touched my heart and motivated me to do better, walk faster, and get ‘er done. Pep talks came when needed, especially from you, Steve, who can read me like a book – that’s pretty irritating at times, but very appreciated (even if I don’t seem very appreciative at the time).   Nee, I could always count on you to talk me through the last mile or two of a walk, and Marlene, at times, you seemed to know my walk schedule better than I did.  Steven, you always offered up a “Good Job!” when I’d come home from a walk on Tuesday and Thursday mornings, even if your eyeballs were still closed. pC, thank you for allowing me the flexibility to come in later on Thursdays so I can get my walk in. And, to everyone who has kept me in their prayers, thank you. One of the unforeseen benefits of this training has been the opportunity to work on my spiritual life.  Last weekend, my walking partner Anne and I travelled to the mts. of Virginia to complete the biggest weekend of training – 34+ miles over two days. We experienced heat, cold, fog, 7 miles of rain, a bad toe nail, bum leg, lumpy beds, a grouchy hotel concierge, and a faulty alarm. We also worked out some kinks with regard to equipment, clothing, had lots of laughs, and enjoyed surprise chocolate-covered strawberries, compliments of my husband. All in all, it was a great weekend! Physically, I’ve had better times. If you see/talk to me on a daily basis, you know what’s been happening. Someone asked me the other day if I thought all of the recent maladies, I prefer to call them “challenges,” were happening because I’m too old to do this Walk.   I can’t remember who it was that said it, but I couldn’t get cranky with them because they only voiced out loud what has crossed my mind over the past 21 weeks.  21 weeks ago, I wasn’t sure I could make it to 21 weeks, and here I am, with all of you (friends, cousins, nieces, nephews, sister, brothers, husband, sons, boss, friends of sister), in my corner. So, old or not, I’m going to walk, 3 days-60 miles, in less than three, short weeks! Click here to visit my personal page. If the text above does not appear as a clickable link, you can visit the web address: http://www.the3day.org/site/TR?px=6579630&pg=personal&fr_id=1770&et=pVs-kGaLu3Ip8sCwbHrPtA Click here to view the team page for Jen's Bosom Buddies If the text above does not appear as a clickable link, you can visit the web address: http://www.the3day.org/site/TR?team_id=200755&pg=team&fr_id=1770&et=5zvOqIWbYNbSQoyjJdKPSw If you no longer wish to receive email messages sent from your friends on behalf of this organization, please click here or paste this URL into your browser: http://www.the3day.org/site/TellFriendOpt?action=optout&toe=089f02b479fc91d30c88e4df643b914611ea7545464246e7 Breast Health Fact: Breast cancer is the most frequently diagnosed cancer and is the leading cause of cancer death among women worldwide.

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Not a steed, but a Tassahara!

Labor Day Weekend  training required a Saturday’s trek of 15 miles, and my walking-partner, Anne and I chose the Norman Shores Drive neighborhoods for the morning: beautiful homes, of varying ages, sizes and style, some with million dollar views, gave us plenty to look at and the first 11.5 miles went by virtually effortlessly. A break to meet some friends at McAlister’s Deli for lunch, followed by the final 3.5 miles, completed at Jetton Park – the path through the woods is 1.4 miles x 2 came to more than the 15 that was required; the path through the woods is also completely in the shade – wonderful when the temperature is 91 degrees, and there isn’t a breeze.  After finishing, I headed home for a neighborhood BBQ – a cold shower was just what the dr. ordered. As I dressed for the party, I noticed what looked like bruises on the calves of my legs.  It didn’t hurt to touch them, but it looked like all of the blood vessels had burst – can you say UGLY?? After some googling, the best I could come up with is something called “Golfer’s Vasculitis” – strikes long distance walkers, (not cyclists or runners) women more than men, over 50, when the temperature is over 90. No treatment, just time, leg elevation, and cool compresses, oh and, no walking!  

By Sunday, both legs looked less “angry” (my mom loved that expression), but a burning sensation had started under the skin, like someone was holding a lit match to the area. Unfortunately, staying put and catering to it was not possible. Sunday’s mileage was 11 miles and I set out early in the Sailview Neighborhood in Denver. My plan of attack was that I would walk 8 miles, break for breakfast, and then finish the last 3. (I always need a plan – A, B, & C when possible – let’s just say I like to believe I am in control ;-)   Set out at 7 a.m., with my camelback lumbar pack, banana, sunflower seeds, and lance peanut butter crackers – the stuff that dreams are made ofJ  ¾ of a mile into the 11, I realized that putting ice in your camelback is NOT a good idea – ice melts, condensation forms, and butts get wet! One mile into the walk, the clouds cleared out, and the sun rose higher in the sky, and with it, the heat. This was going to be a LONG morning. Every turn seemed to bring a hill to climb, and at 5 miles, I decided that I had done enough, I could head back to the car, no one would know!  It was at that point that my cell rang and “daddoo” came up on the screen (a/k/a Steve). After a brief conversation, my walk continued.  Shortly thereafter, I could hear a bicycle coming up behind me, and I thought: “Really? with this road as big as it is, you have to ride right up on my butt?”  Then I turned to see the culprit, and there he was –– my hero, my husband.  He brought his company, his support, AND a water bottle filled with Diet Coke and jingly ice!!  OMG, people! It was exactly what the dr. ordered, and the morning turned around.  Believe it or not, he walked the last two miles with me, pushing his bicycle along the way.  My knight in shining armor, not on a steed, but a Gary Fisher Tassahara bicycle!

Walking through the seasons . . .

When I started this training, just 17 weeks ago, it was the tail end of spring. The pansies planted last fall were fading, and begonias, geraniums and petunias were taking their place. Then came the summer of 2012 – the hottest on record – and miles were logged, in over 100 degree weather. HOT, HOT, HOT and humid, as well.  Who knew sweat could burn so much when it lands in your eyes?!  Tried to keep to the sidewalks, as the heat from the asphalt seemed to take its toll on the feet. Sunburn was the norm, and staying hydrated was a challenge.  My hair went from reddish brown to blonde in a matter of weeks; lawns changed from lush green to brown. Neighborhood pools once loud with the laughter of children grew quieter as preparations for back-to-school began and  last minute vacations were squeezed in.

Yesterday, with only 47 days left 'til THE Walk, I found myself crunching through the first dropped leaves of fall. Acorns lined the pathways of Jetton, and I noticed that some leaves have already started to turn. Fall has always been my favorite season – the crisp air, the changing leaf colors, memories of Steve & my first few dates which included car trips out east on Long Island, especially beautiful this time of year;  and since we moved to the lake, the reflection of the foliage in the lake is unmatched! 

Sunday morning's temperature was perfect for walking, and there was a gentle breeze that kept the bugs away – all in all, a great morning to fit 6 miles in before church. So glad I won’t have to walk through winter!  J

Long time, no blog...

Much has taken place since the last time I blogged about my training…much has remained the same.

I’m still walking – less than 8 weeks  til the BIG EVENT. It’s still hot, I’m still trying out belly packs, back packs, water bottles, camelbacks, road snacks ; still need one more pair of sneakers to break in before the real thing; sun visor vs. floppy hat vs. cotton hat vs. low profile cap; body glide vs. Vaseline; compression shorts or running shorts; one pair of socks, or two; short sleeves, no sleeves; water or sports drinks.  Definitely, water!  After a week of not feeling well, with flu-like symptoms, I discovered that I am allergic to sports drinks – Who knew???  My left foot developed a nasty case of Athlete’s foot and one HUGE blister that developed between the third and fourth toe on my left foot. Made walking painful to say the least, but remembering the mantra of our old Scout troop, that is, “if there’s no blood, it doesn’t count” I sucked it up and kept putting one foot in front of the other. What a sight I must have been as I limped my way through the Birkdale neighborhood for my 8 mile walk. The good news?  (there’s always good news) – favoring the left foot helped build the muscle in my right thigh into a force to be reckoned with!  Just about the time my foot started to heal, I threw my back out – wish I had an exciting story to tell, but actually, I went under my desk to unplug a copier and couldn’t stand up!

Thanks to some TLC, rest, and lots of ice, three days later I was able to walk 14 miles, slowly.

More good news -- with lots of help from family and friends, (thank you, family & friends) I made the goal of $2300, so that’s no longer an issue (fyi – if you don’t make goal, you don’t walk, it’s just that simple).  Hotel arrangements have been made (no, I’m not camping, although the pink tents were certainly tempting), airline tickets have been purchased, and two recommended phone conferences have been completed. 

Only 53 days until the “3 day” – what will I do with all that free time??

Anastasia isn't the only one with an Inner Goddess --

Last weekend was a milestone – 16 miles in two days – I know, a far cry from 60 in 3, but still, a milestone 9 weeks into training.  Saturday’s goal of 10 miles greatly concerned me:  would my feet hold out, should I do it all at once – that would be 3 hours and 20 minutes; OR should I take a break like I would on the actual Walk; where should it be done?  hills?  heat?  where are those gel inserts? how much water to bring? All this to say -- Saturday loomed large and scary! 

Saturday morning dawned overcast – Yippee!! – I gathered my gear and headed out to a nearby neighborhood where the bulk of the 10 miles could be done; a good mixture of hills and level walking. A little more than two hours later, 7.25 miles were completed. Time for a short breakfast break with husband followed by the resumption of the last of the miles. Officially 11 miles were completed that morning AND I was still able to stand upright, and form complete sentences.  I’d like to say I returned home, cleaned the house, did the laundry, washed the car, weeded the gardens and whipped up an amazing dinner, but I can’t. I returned home, donned my bathing suit, and floated the afternoon away, resting my weary feet and feeling relieved that it was behind me.

After a restless night, 6 a.m. came too soon, and it was time for another 6 miles. To say I didn’t want to do it is an understatement.  I mentally wrestled with blowing it off, but I proceeded to my “comfortable” neighborhood and set out for the 6 miles . . . and that’s when it all went bad.  ½ a mile in, my left knee started to throb; at 1 mile, my right ankle gave out, enough to make me limp. At the 1-1/2 mile mark, the sun came out, in all its glory, and with it, the heat!  The usual sights and sounds of the neighborhood that have always lifted my spirits and spurred me on were nowhere to be seen – not a deer, not a rabbit, not even the loud, smiling, old man that breaks my reverie every morning. 

I learned a lot on Sunday morning, the least of which is I HATE blue Gatorade!  More importantly, I learned that I had grossly underestimated the rigors of this training –  the physical aspect I had anticipated, but not the mental and spiritual; never even gave those a thought.  Think about it…how often do you have 3+ hours all to yourself and your thoughts? It’s been cathartic in some ways:  plenty of time to think through issues, talk things through in my head, reason things out.  Time to appreciate God’s world and talk to him about this and that.  In other ways, it’s sometimes monotonous and you can’t run (or walk) away from your thoughts!  Sunday morning was not a good morning mentally – I was tired from Saturday’s walk, and a restless night, and there were time restraints since I needed to be at church by 10:15. Readers of Shades of Grey will definitely understand me when I say that my Inner Goddess was working overtime Sunday morning, and not in a good way!  She pushed every negative button I had – it’s too early, it’s too hot, the sweat is burning my eyes, this shirt is too tight, who picked out this Gatorade flavor, how many hills do I have to climb? what possessed me to sign-up to do this? wouldn’t it be easier if I were 40 lbs. lighter? I could be home, reading the paper, and eating breakfast;  I don’t even like the color pink! Now…bear with me because this might get a bit bumpy for some of you …at some point as the walk wore on to 2 miles, another voice sounded in my head, a whisper really, that grew louder as it repeatedly said: “You misunderstood Him. He knows you can’t do this, and you know it too!”  With every word, my steps became heavier and my breathing became more labored.  I had turned on my ipod earlier in the walk, but the music of K-Love that I usually found uplifting now grated on my nerves, and the voice in my head seemed to be drowning out the songs of encouragement.  I could feel myself spiraling down, panicking on the inside and at the corner of East Berkley and Natalie Commons Drive, I finally stopped and proceeded to burst into tears. Every doubt I had had, before I made the decision to do the SGK, and since, surfaced and overwhelmed me.  In an effort to pull myself together, I took a drink, started to do some stretches, and realized I was momentarily disoriented. I tried to get my bearings but the houses around me seemed to draw away from me into the distance and I suddenly felt cold, and very alone.  As the tears continued to fall, I did the only thing I could think of doing -- I started to pray – not the silent, in-your-head kind, but the out-loud, look-up -to -the -sky kind, and my feet started moving, one foot in front of the other. A Baptist friend of mine has told me for the past 18 years to be sure to “pray specifically” so I did – PLEASE help me move my feet, PLEASE help me get to the next block, PLEASE help me up this next hill, PLEASE hide the sun, PLEASE STAY WITH ME.  At one point, I looked up, and ahead of me was a steep incline, the steepest of all, and I made a deal with myself: if I conquered the hill, I could head back to the car with whatever mileage total that was and be done.

 I took the challenge, and proceeded to start the climb, noticing  a cat sitting on the side of the road. As I drew closer, the cat was momentarily distracted by my approach, and the rat it had captured was able to escape – happy rat, not so much, cat.  It watched me walk up the rest of the hill, AND as I passed it on the way back down. Now, if you know me, you know I don’t like cats – long story that involved a filthy house, babysitting, and an Attack Siamese (insert *shudder* here) – so no surprise that I was actually happy for the rat, but I can honestly say that this cat had the most evil eyes I’ve ever seen. Was so glad when I turned the corner and was no longer in its line of sight.  Finally, I reached my car – two hours; 6 miles done! 

In the 9 weeks of training that has passed, this was the most difficult day of all – physically and mentally.  I had so many questions swirling in my head – had the 9 weeks caught up to me? was it the 10 miles the day before? was it just because my head wasn’t in the game that morning? was it the heat? not enough hydration?  Maybe it was a combination of all of these things.  I couldn’t wait to get home, change, head to church and put the day behind me .

As I drove the 30 minutes to church, the morning played out in my mind, and left me very unsettled. While it wasn’t pretty, I did complete the 6 miles, so what was the problem?  I’d rest up on Monday and re-group, physically and mentally. But, something was nagging at me.  Church obligations were handled, and I lucked out – I’d be able to hear pChris’ message.  That would certainly help settle my mind and get my head on straight. And, it didn’t disappoint. It also shed light on what was bothering me.  To put it plain and simple, I felt “under attack” that morning -- spiritually!  How can I explain this?  There are definite benefits from this training, over and above the obvious, and one of them is that my faith journey has been ramped up.  With more time away from electronics, with only myself for company, I’ve done more thinking about my relationship with God, more praying to Him, and more listening to His Word.  On this particular morning however, my aches, pains, sweat and frustration distracted me; wallowing in the negative, my usual conversation with God didn’t happen. For the past 9 weeks, I knew that I wasn’t alone on the street; that He was walking with me on this training, every step of the way. Not Sunday though; I felt alone in every way, before my feet had even touched the pavement.  And worse, I felt that something else had stepped in in His place; something dark, cold, and ugly.  The voice in my head was not friend, but foe, and it left me drained, frightened and confused. Every button of self-doubt and negativism was pushed that morning, expertly.  It took me several days of replaying the morning in my head to try to make sense of it. The few people that I have confided in didn’t know quite what to make of it – while they didn’t say I was delusional, a couple suggested that it was a perfect storm wherein exhaustion, lack of hydration, too much sun, high humidity, and lack of mental focus all played a part. Almost a week later, I maintain that while all of the above certainly didn’t help, there was something more sinister at work that morning.     Psalm 119:105

You're wrong, Mr. President!

Over the course of the past 8-1/2 weeks, I’ve met some very interesting people…under the age of 12!  It seems that capitalism is alive and well in the little town of Denver.  Several days ago, as I huffed and puffed my way up a hill in a nearby neighborhood, I saw a young man of 12 or so who had set up shop on the sidewalk in front of his home. As I passed, he called out to me: “Ma’am, would you like to buy some of my stuff?”  Now, who can resist a sales pitch like that?  I crossed the street and explained that I didn’t have any cash on me, but that I would come back when I was done walking. I’m sure he was disappointed, but I was afraid if I had stopped at that point, I would have chosen to ditch the last two miles and help him sell.   When I passed him the second time, I smiled, waved and kept on truckin’.  I have to tell you that it was 8:30 in the morning, and the temperature was already climbing through the 90’s.  His “kiosk” was on a quiet side road, and in fact, in the 2 hours I walked the area, only 3 cars had passed by.  All this to say that I don’t think there was any chance of him running out of inventory.

By 9, I was back at my car, and the hunt was on for cash.  If only the young entrepreneur took debit cards!  I had a $20 bill – as much as I wanted to support an up and coming capitalist, I didn’t need to support him to the tune of $20 …so I drove to the nearby Wilco, bought a soda, and got change of a $20. Would he have tired of waiting for customers? Who could blame him? He was probably in the air conditioning playing the latest video game!  I was wrong. As I pulled up in front of the house next door, I saw that he was not only still at his post, he had added a large umbrella over his table.  Would love to know what the neighbor adjusting his sprinkler was thinking as my overheated, pink-clad body climbed out of my car.  As I approached the table, the young man recognized me and a look of surprise came over his face.  I reminded him that I had said I’d be back, and asked him to show me what he had to sell – wallets, made out of colorful duct tape was the item of the day – different colors, prints, shapes – bill holders, change holders; he also had a couple of duct-tape bracelets.  His friends informed me that everything was $1.00 apiece.  I chose two wallets and handed him a $5.00 bill, telling him to “keep the change.”  (love that line from Home Alone when Macaulay Culkin says – “keep the change, you filthy animal!” but I digress…)    The look on that young man’s face was priceless as he stammered  – “Thanks a lot, Ma’am!”   I may have imagined it, but I think his two friends looked at him with newfound respect.  As I drove away, he waved, smiling ear to ear, then ran towards his house – I wondered if he was going to let his mom know of his windfall!! 

I thought about that boy throughout the day, and since and the memory of that morning brings a smile to my face every time.  I should have asked him his name; I should have asked him what he was earning the money for. When most children his age were probably still in bed, or watching cartoons, or surfing the net, this young man was doing something constructive with his time and energy. Whatever he made that day in the way of sales, was because of HIS hard work and diligence . . . just sayin’! 

What happens on a 5 mile walk when it's overcast?

. . . a lot less squinting, and drinking, and SWEATING!!

What a pleasant 5 miles it was this morning. I planned on walking at 6:30 a.m. but overslept and didn't get out on the road until 8:10.  It was overcast and they were calling for intermittent showers. Quite a difference from the 95+ degree days we've been having since this training began 8 weeks ago.  That's right, 8 weeks have gone by, only 15-1/2 to go till the BIG weekend.  Have raised $1200 so far; $1100 to go and hopefully I'll make it because I'd hate to have gone through all of this training and then not be allowed to walk. I know, I know -- I'm benefitting healthwise, both physically and mentally,  but still....

In addition to the sunless sky, the humidity was low, and there was a slight breeze -- not to sound like a weatherman, but I can't begin to tell you how excited I was that that glowing orb was not out!!  The birds seemed happier, the dogs had more pep in their step, and the old man that walks his golden wasn't having as difficult a time breathing as he normally does.  I ate my two peanut butter crackers (that's all I can eat that early in the morning), drank a bit of Gatorade (it really does keep the swelling down), and finished  5.65 miles in one hour, 43 minutes -- not bad at all!  Hoping Saturday morning is overcast as well -- 8 miles is on the schedule. Wish me luck!

When the going gets tough, the tough get .... WALKING!

The last twelve hours have not been the easiest here in overcast Denver, NC.  After hitting the pillows at 10 pm last night (very early for me, I'm usually just getting started) I awoke at 12:15 a.m. because I heard something strange outside. Checked if the muskrat was on the turtle float eating his clams (long story that I'll  save for another day) -- he wasn't, in case you're wondering, and proceeded to try to get back to sleep. Maggie (our golden) had other plans, however. Apparently a storm was moving in, and dogs' hearing being what it is, she heard it LONG before we did. The panting started at about 1-ish, as did the obligatory paw rubbing (she has a foot fetish, what can I say?!) By 2:30, the thunder, lightning and rain was at full pitch and I gave up trying to sleep and moved into the room that has a trifecta of uses -- Christopher's bedroom / Steve's office / the Guest Room. Maggie likes to hide during a storm under his newly created desk (also another story for another day) but only if she is kept company. Being fully awake now, I did what any fully awake person would do at 2:30 in the morning -- check my email (c'mon, you know you would).  That is how I found out that my brother-in-law Rich had suffered another stroke (his third in all, since February).  My sister had tried to reach me by phone, but upon not getting me (cause I was asleep), sent an email. After replying  to her, and sending out a prayer request to the wonderful folks at New Beginnings Moravian Church and some friends, I proceeded to do research on recurring strokes -- the causes, and the treatments. At approximately 3:30, Steve joined us and I brought him up-to-date on Rich's stroke.  By 4:30, the worst of the storm had passed and we moved back to our bed; Maggie had other ideas however, so the panting continued for quite some time. I think I fell asleep about 7:15 and woke at 8:15 thinking I had dreamt the whole stroke thing, and that Rich was fine. Shortly thereafter, my sister called to catch me up on the details. What could I do but listen!  No words of wisdom, no clever sayings, no helpful suggestions, AND I'm 700 miles away!  If you have relatives that live a distance from you, you understand how frustrating it is to be so far away! Went through this back in January when my dad took ill, and it nearly drove me crazy.
If you know me at all, you know I am a fixer -- that's what I do, I fix things for people -- all sorts of things, but considering I do not have a medical degree, and the law frowns upon practicing medicine without it, other than doing internet research, there isn't a whole lot I can do for my family from this distance. Now, please don't tell me that God is in control...I know that, but I was raised Catholic and our mantra was "God helps those who help themselves" the idea being that you do what you can and THEN God steps in (at least that's how I always interpreted it until the good people of various protestant faiths enlightened me). So.... I did what I've done my whole life when faced with a frustrating, worrisome situation -- I made a meal, in this case, Breakfast!  Eating is good for the soul -- someone said that, not sure who, but who am I to argue with a saying that has stood the test of time? (I think it may have been someone in my Italian-Irish-American family) Then I cleaned a bit (just a bit, mind you), and pondered my next move.  That's when I came up with another saying that I heard growing up ----- When the going gets tough, the tough get . . . . WALKING . . . three + miles. Did it solve anything for my family -- not a thing, but I did get my training in for the day, got rid of some of my frustration, AND was able to watch "What Not to Wear" from beginning to end!  Don't you just love that show?  Please keep Rich and my sis in your prayers. Oh, and just so you know...everytime I see Maggie looking comfortable and dozing off today, I nudge her awake -- you know what they say about payback!

Strangers no more!

It’s a little more than a week since I last blogged, and I’m finishing up my 7^th week of training –

no blisters yet, which is a very good thing. The weather has been HOT here in NC – not just your run-of-the-mill 90’s, but over 100 on several days; not exactly conducive to walking long distances, so I’ve been getting out on the trail by 7 a.m.   It’s a great time to be outside – the air is still somewhat cool, the neighborhood is sleeping, and I am one with my new sneaks and the roadway! 

The first mile I am always struck by the silence – people-silence, that is. The cars are resting quietly in their driveways, windows and doors are closed up tight, and even the sprinklers haven’t come on yet. Nature, however, is not sleeping – the birds are active, rabbits are quietly feeding, and families of deer are crossing from one meadow to the other.  I spot them coming out of the brush, and stop. They spot me coming up the road, and stop. I feel like an intruder in their world.  The fawns don’t know any better and walk towards me, only to be “disciplined” by their parent. We size each other up, and both wonder who’ll make the first move.  Some turn back into the brush, but the older, more experienced proceed across the street, keeping a watch.  When they have safely cleared the road, I continue on my way, with a smile on my face and a renewed spring in my step.  

As the minutes tick by, the neighborhood seems to awaken, slowly – sprinklers start up, garage doors open, and newspapers disappear from the driveways. No words are spoken, but smiles and waves are traded as I pass their homes.  One elderly gentleman approaches me from the other direction, and  his voice is the first I hear this morning (actually, the last few mornings) – it is  loud, completely out of place in the quiet, but very friendly, accompanied with a big smile…and my energy is renewed yet again. 

Workmen are making their way into the neighborhood, to continue the building of new homes. They murmur “good morning” as I pass, some in English, some in Spanish.  Dogs are given access to their backyards, and bark at me as I walk on by – one, a St. Bernard comes to the edge of the property and makes it clear that I should keep on, keeping on….and I do.  

As my fitness tracker marks another mile, the sun continues to rise higher and make its presence known.   Familiar faces exit their homes – to re-arrange their sprinklers, walk their dogs, start on their way to work – and every one of them note my presence, and signal a positive greeting of one sort or another.  A stranger the first time I walked this neighborhood, I now feel a part of it, and am learning the rhythm of their day – the policeman on the corner, the Time Warner man who gets to take his truck home, the working mom who explains to her children why they have to go to daycare as they climb into the mini-van, and the retired gentleman who tends to his beautiful flower gardens as if they were his children.  I feel so blessed that I have become part of this community, if only for a couple of hours, a few days a week. Hope they feel the same about the lady in pink!

39 Miles isn't enough??!!

First off, thank you for reading my blog. I so appreciate your enthusiasm. Several of you have asked what the blog name, ChurchLadyWalking, is all about.  It’s simple, really. For the past seven and a half years, I’ve been the Administrative Assistant for New Beginnings Moravian Church in Huntersville, NC.  (great church, great pastor, great group of people, you should check it out – I know, a shameless plug, but it’s my blog so live with it!) Prior to that, I co-led a Youth Group at another church, taught Sunday School, and spent 9 months as its Interim Secretary.  My sons and husband started calling me Church Lady. The “walking” part – well, that should be easy to figure out J

Anyway, when last we “spoke,” I had heard a commercial for the Charlotte Avon Walk for the Cure; not once, not twice, but repeatedly over the course of a day. I took this as a sign . . . I’m big on signs . . . that this was something I should consider – could I do this? could my walking make a difference?  39 miles in two days?  Yikes! Was God leading me to do this? It would certainly give me something to focus on; get my mind off my father’s passing, family dynamics, and the work that still had to be done – sorting and boxing of his things, etc.  But 39 days?   walking?  I don’t like to walk. I rationalized that if after Day One I had had enough, I could just go home.  Checked it out online and requested an information packet. In the meantime, I PRAYED, a lot, and asked God to guide me.  Just in case He was busy, I posted a status on fb asking if anyone has ever participated in the Walk, and to weigh in J

In the meantime, I learned that one of the church members sons’ had organized a team in Tampa for the Susan G. Komen Walk this fall, in memory of his wife, Jenn. She lost her battle several years ago . . . AND, a good friend (from Huntersville) was going to be part of the team.  So… more prayer followed --- and the decision was made.  Instead of walking 39 miles in two days, I’d be walking 60 miles in three days; instead of being close to home, I’d fly to Tampa. Let’s recap – I don’t like walking, I don’t like flying – perfect!  I didn’t say it made sense, I just believe that I’m supposed to do this; that God is leading me. Hope I didn’t misunderstand His plan!

The origin of this adventure!

So... here I am, blogging . . . not because I have important things to say, not because I think anyone will be interested in anything I have to say, but just because I need a way to document the challenge I've decided to undertake . . . in other words, IT'S ALL ABOUT ME!  The challenge?  the Susan G. Komen 60 Mile, 3-Day Walk in Tampa, FL October 26-28th.
How did this happen?  What would possess a 54 year old, overweight mother of two grown sons and church secretary to decide that it's a good idea to walk 60 miles in 3 days in Tampa, FL of all places?  The answer to this question is not a simple one -- more like an onion, many layers, some known at this time, some that I am discovering as I go about training for this event. 
While I've entertained the idea of "walking" for a charity in the past, the last time I participated in one was back in 2002-2003 (I believe) when our youth group was part of CropWalk in Charlotte -- "ending hunger one step at a time" -- a 5k walk through the streets of our fair city. Bought a new pair of sneakers just for the occasion, the children made a banner, and we walked the 3.something miles for a good cause. Did I enjoy it?  the fellowship, the antics of the youth, the idea behind the walk -- ABSOLUTELY...the walking -- ABSOLUTELY NOT!  You see, I don't like walking; it's boring, tedious, and time-consuming!  So, it makes perfect sense that I would commit to walk 60 miles, don't you think?!
The cause is a worthy one, without a doubt -- to raise funds to be used in research to end breast cancer! Over the past 29 years, SGK has trained more than 400 researchers, and funded more than 1800 research projects. It has provided more money for breast cancer research and community health programs than any entity besides the US government.  While the above statistics would certainly be a great reason to participate in this event, I didn't know any of these facts until yesterday!

 If the truth be told, this idea was borne as a result of my father, George passing away this past February 2nd -- he was 91 years old, and up until a fall in early January, followed by a second fall a week later, did amazingly well for a man his age, with as many ailments as he had since he was in his early 50s -- you'll have to take my word for it that my father was a force of nature; raised by a loving mother, and abusive father (who died when my dad was 11), brother to several sisters, husband of 57 years to my mom, Mary, father of four, grandfather to 15, great-grandfather to 15, friend to many.... The depression left an indelible mark on him, and he reminded us often that "what you kids need is a good depression to teach you the value of a dollar."  But, I digress . . . after his second fall in early January, my father's health declined rapidly, and in the space of less than four weeks, he went from Home, to Hospital, to Nursing Home, to Hospital, to Palliative Care, to Hospice.  During that time, he moved in and out of lucidity and I was fortunate to be able to be with him the last couple of weeks. I actually spent my birthday at his bedside. While he didn't always know my name, he did recognize his "baby" and I will forever be grateful for that. The last few days before his passing, he was in tremendous pain and it was gut-wrenching to have to see him struggle, and be completely powerless to help. I pray you never find yourself in that position.  I will admit (only in this blog) that I am a "bit" of a control freak -- I don't see that as a bad thing necessarily -- so not being able to help him was impossible.

Almost 5 months later, I still can't accept that I was useless to my father when he needed me most. And, it's one of the reasons, after much prayer, that I decided that I needed to do something useful, something that could/would make a difference. And, then I heard an Avon Walk-for-the-Cure commercial on the radio, and an idea was borne . . . .