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What's Brewing

Three days, thousands of steps for one disease

By SUSAN THURSTON
Published October 14, 2005

Wow, it was hard.

Hard walking on blister-covered blisters. Hard pitching a tent in puddles of rain. Hard not choking up at every cheering section.

Call it Extreme Breast Cancer 3-Day.

I signed up to walk 60 miles over three days at the urging of a friend, Kelly Irish, whose mother lost a breast to cancer seven years ago. Today, she's healthy, happy and grateful to be cancer-free.

We walked for her and everyone else who has survived or died from the disease. We also walked for a cure so future generations don't suffer the same fate.

It was a bold mission with a stunning outcome. The Tampa Bay walk, one of 12 around the country this year, raised more than $5-million for breast cancer research, education, screening and treatment.

Our trek began before dawn last Friday at Coachman Park in Clearwater. I left my South Tampa townhouse proclaiming I'm off to do something good for the world!

Mother Nature immediately put my altruism in check with a heavy rain - a dose of what was to come.

The estimated 1,700 walkers - plus 300 crew members - shed their first of many tears at the opening ceremonies when survivors, including some too weak to walk in the event, inspired walkers to press on for the good of others. An official with the Susan G. Komen Breast Cancer Foundation, the walk's organizer and beneficiary, recounted how she walked in every 3-Day event the year after her mother succumbed to breast cancer - more than 700 miles.

I thought if she could do that, surely I could do 60.

We walked the Pinellas Trail and neighborhoods deep in St. Petersburg, ending the 23-mile day in Bartlett Park. Pockets of enthusiastic supporters buoyed spirits as the heat index climbed over 100.

Walkers in teams, like the TaTa Sisterhood, the Pink Ladies and B.R.A. (Babes Raising Awareness), broke up the monotony with their matching outfits, pink boas and pompoms. Several wore T-shirts with photos in memory of lost loved ones.

Kindness from strangers abounded. People passed out beads and ice cubes and held handmade signs with messages like "Bustin' Booties for Boobies" and "You Go Girls." One couple set up an electric fan in their yard to cool us off as we passed. Another put out a sprinkler.

Pure heaven.

The last 3 miles were pure hell. Cars sped down shabby commercial drags in south St. Pete that made Dale Mabry Highway look like an upscale boulevard. Dirt and broken glass covered the cracked sidewalks. One group of walkers reportedly saw a drug trade go down.

Tired, hot and sore, I longed for my bed.

Bed consisted of a two-person tent, some without holes. Many with holes. We quickly discovered it's not so easy setting up camp when the ground is soaked.

We showered in semitrailer trucks partitioned with cramped stalls. Modesty went down the drain as we struggled to peel off clothes glued to our bodies.

The real fun began at 3 a.m. when the first rain band rolled through. Shrieks and giggles filled the campsite as walkers scrambled to bring in sneakers and backpacks. Our 6-inch-high air mattress became an island around a moat.

We rose to more rain at 5:30 a.m., desperate to get going. Packing up wet stuff and sloshing through mud prompted many calls to hotels and friends' houses for the next night.

Day two led us through scenic downtown and northeast St. Pete. Young cheerleaders at the many pit stops instructed walkers to "stretch, hydrate, pee and go" - the weekend's refrain.

After lunch in the parking lot of Derby Lane, we headed east on Gandy Boulevard to the Friendship Trail bridge. Gandy was a low point of the journey, thanks to no sidewalks and whizzing traffic. Kelly nearly tripped over a smashed raccoon. Conversation ground to a halt as we hoofed single file to avoid getting hit ourselves.

We ended the 20-mile day at Anderson Elementary School in South Tampa. Cabs greeted a few walkers begging for a dry bed. We prayed for no rain - and got just a little. Walkers moleskinned their feet, lanced blisters and lubed up their heat rashes.

Day three we went through Interbay to Bayshore Boulevard, where 3-Day "sweeper" trucks picked up walkers too weary to go another step. Hundreds of women fell in love with the guy standing outside the Tampa Convention Center with the sign, "Blisters are Sexy."

Only a few miles left to go, we trekked through downtown Tampa to N Boulevard, where our destination - Raymond James Stadium - emerged like a mirage. Every step hurt as we inched closer.

Elation replaced the pain as we paraded into Al Lopez Park, where hundreds of screaming friends and family celebrated our victory. Never in my life had someone exclaimed to me, "You inspire me!"

Days later, remembering the scene still gives me goose bumps.

The 60 miles came into focus during the closing ceremonies, where thousands gathered to honor the survivors and the dead. Hands together and raised high, we reflected on a world without breast cancer.

Both the healthy and the sick vowed to live life to the fullest. Not to squander it, but to take risks. Make it an adventure.

Eventually I'll forget about the piercing pain in my calves, the 23 visits to the port-a-potty and the two sleepless nights. Instead I'll remember all the people who took on the challenge for the sake of a bigger challenge.

And when my blisters heal, I just might start planning for next year.

THE LAST DROP: The battle marches on this Saturday with Making Strides Against Breast Cancer. The walk starts at 7:30 a.m. at the St. Pete Times Forum. For information, go to www.cancer.org

- Susan Thurston can be reached at 226-3394 or thurston@sptimes.com

[Last modified October 13, 2005, 08:20:12]