Several years ago, to honor our grandmother and raise awareness (and $10,000!) for breast cancer, my sister and I walked nearly 60 miles over three days.
I expected the physical demands to be intense, but what surprised me most was the profound, lasting emotional impact of those three days – and how powerfully the experience taught me to push through tough times.
If you’re feeling stuck or wrestling your way through a difficult season, keep reading.
Excitement at the start
We arrived on Day One with thousands of other walkers, each toting our own gear. Camp each night was a portable tent community for walkers and crew arranged in neat rows on local football fields along the route.
Day One kicked off with an exciting opening ceremony. The mild October weather was perfect. After months of training, the moment of truth had finally arrived: we set out to tackle that day’s 24 long miles.
As we made our way, the walkers spread out, with everyone settling into their own rhythm. Breast cancer survivors in pink walked alongside allies in white – each step a tribute, each mile a reminder of those touched or lost to breast cancer.
A glimpse of foreshadowing
Though these walks aren’t competitive races, everyone must finish the day’s route before dark or be “swept” by a van to the next campsite. At mile 18, fighting pain in her knees, my sister got swept to camp for the night. I finished the last six miles on my own.
By the time I got to camp, my sister’s knees were wrapped with heavy medical tape, and she’d been cleared to walk the next day. It would hurt but no permanent damage had been done. We ate dinner and turned in for the night, hoping for the best as thunderstorms were forecast for the next 24 hours and we had no idea how the knees would hold up.
Day One was in the books.
And so it began
I woke up suddenly three hours later with stomach cramps and overwhelming nausea. The predicted storms were upon us, and torrential rain was leaking into our tent. Apparently, the rain tarp was no match for the rapidly flooding field.
I spent the hours before daybreak climbing in and out of our wet tent, running for the line of portable toilets at the end of our row, and at some point just staying there, since it was drier than our tent.
It was miserable.
Digging deep
By dawn, I was completely drained and my sister’s knees were throbbing despite powerful pain meds. And we still had to break down camp and start the day’s 20+ miles in the driving rain. We gathered our things and folded up our sopping tent as best we could. Looking up at the stormy sky, I felt like laughing and crying at the same time.
Day Two – the “middle” of the walk – felt nothing like Day One. The initial enthusiasm had faded. Silence replaced conversation as exhaustion took over.
All we could do was keep moving, one foot in front of the other, over and over again.
A little encouragement
Eventually, the rain let up, and my stomach felt more stable. Schoolchildren finally came outside and encouraged us from the curb. Survivors walking with us reminded us why we were there and inspired us to press on.
The names of loved ones we walked for, penned on our shirts and bandanas, powered us through our discomfort – how minor our pain seemed compared to their struggles. We ended Day Two exhausted but proud to have finished the day on foot.
When we arrived at camp, someone had already pitched our tent – a small act of kindness nearly brought us to tears. A stranger knew that if we were still walking as it neared dusk, we must be struggling.
Under a starlit sky, we enjoyed good food and dry clothes, grateful to have made it. As we crawled into our sleeping bags, thirteen miles to go on the last day suddenly felt manageable.
The push to the end
On Day Three, we woke up well rested and motivated to get to the finish line. After breakfast and wrapping the knees, we packed up our campsite and hit the road. The weather was sunny, and spirits were high. Thirteen miles in the sunshine with a good night of rest and a full stomach seemed almost easy.
As we rounded the last bend, breast cancer survivors split off into a holding area. As they walked together into the closing ceremony, the rest of us silently held a single sneaker high in the air as a sign of respect and admiration for all they had been through. The moment was powerful, uniting everyone in shared purpose and gratitude.
The tone then turned celebratory, with loud music and motivational speakers. While I was relieved to be done, part of me didn’t want the feeling of unity to end.
Day Two was hard – soaked and weary with no finish line in sight. It was lonely, monotonous and tested our resolve.
But to reach the end, there was no shortcut: we had to keep muddling through.
So, what are you in the middle of right now? Are there goals you’re not sure you’ll ever reach?
The middle is the messiest, but if you truly want something, you have to push through the hard parts to get there. If you quit when things get tough, you’ll never experience the victory on the other side.
Don’t let the challenges of the middle stop you. Resist the urge to give up. Find support and keep going.
The celebration and sense of accomplishment waiting for you at the end will be worth it.
Please share this post with someone in your life who needs to hear it, and remember that YOU MATTER: we need whatever it is you’re supposed to be doing, so stick with it!
(Adapted from July 2024 How’s Your Impact post)
