The quote of the trip was Saturday afternoon. Moto-safety woman in the crosswalk: "You are doing great! Only 2.5 miles to go. You could do 2.5 miles in your sleep... and some of you probably are..."
By this point in the game my feet were hurting really badly. There was quite a bit of swelling around the balls of my feet and each step was becoming more and more painful. But still, only 2.5 miles. I should be able to finish the day. My Mom started coming to mind. The week before I had been helping her walk and for the first time since the surgery we were able to take a short walk outside. Rhythm helps my Mom to keep her step so I often become the Drill Sargent. "Left...Left...Left, Right, Left" It would help her keep her stride.
I started repeating that march in my head as I pushed further into the late afternoon. Shortly after I started this, the "Caboose"'s bell sounded behind me. The Caboose was the Bike Safety person who followed after the last walker on the route to make sure that the different sections of the route were closed down on time. She asked me how was I doing and did I want a Sweep Van? I asked how much further we had to go and how much time was left. The answer came as 1.5 miles and 40 minutes.
I thought, 'I can do that.' So I picked up the pace and started chanting the march more purposefully. I think I was probably saying it out loud at several points even. It wasn't long before I had passed a few walkers and caught up with my partner L again. I told her about the conversation with the Caboose and she agreed with me that is was doable. But it wasn't long before she had taken off ahead of me again. The pain in the balls of my feet was slowing me down, though I was now determined to finish the route. The walkers I had passed were scooped by a Sweep Van and it wasn't long before the Caboose was right behind me again.
What I didn't realize was that being the last waslk for the day meant a big deal. I was escorted down the last half mile back to the camp by the moto-safety and bike-safety teams. It was kind of a dubious honor but it was humbling and overwhelming as well. There was a large gang of walkers and crew waiting to welcome me back to the camp. Once I was through the gate and scanned back into camp, a Staffer walked up with the closing flag and handed me one side. We walked the flag to the flagpole at the center of camp by the dining tent. Walkers were high-fiving me along the way, cheering and waving me on to the flag pole.
The amount of emotion coming off the crowd, directed at me, was almost shattering. I could not help but smile and cheer with the crowd even though the voice at the back of my head was going "Is this a bad time to mention I hate crowds?". We reached the flag pole and I raised the flag. It was only then that I saw what it said, "One day closer to a cure for Breast Cancer".
It made me smile, the pain in my feet temporarily forgotten. One day closer... We were over the hump and it was only one more day to the 60 mile end. Someone hugged me and said, "OK! OK? -- Go get yourself some food and we'll see you in the Dining Tent."
I couldn't think of a better idea at that point. Somewhat overwhelmed, dazed and confused, I hobbled over to the food line.
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