...Lace Up Your Gloves...

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Laced tightly... ready to roll...

Day two found us waking up much more refreshed and much less achy than we anticipated being. I'm not certain if I felt really, really good this year or if it was the fact that I felt really, really crappy last year, in retrospect. Whatever the case, it was a new day, and we headed off to see the world.
Day two took us through our very own 'hood most of the day. We were continually impressed by the outpouring of support from the community... the amazing people at the cheering stations...the impromptu cheering stations that surfaced...
Between Steph and Michelle, and the Spitza family, not to mention the kindness of strangers along the way, we were feeling pretty loved. It's a good thing, too... Day Two is always the longest day. Yet again, full of laughter - of stories - of memories being made - of preparing to speak that night...

I was ready. We had perfected my speech, and I was ready. By the time we did one last run-through, it was under control. Still, the small matter of not only speaking in front of 2000 people, but managing to keep it together without bursting into a weepy mess of tears still loomed large.

Somehow we managed to not only get through it, but be truly amazing. I'm still surprised that I didn't fall apart during Greg's intro, but somehow I made it - somehow we both did - and the celebrity that followed the rest of that night and the next day, I wasn't quite prepared for.

Started off bright and early with the alarm going off at o'dark thirty. We had told Scott that he didn't need to set one, and he soon found out that our grind-and-brew coffee maker sounds like the Luftwaffe is landing on his head...

Not surprisingly, we picked up a new honorary teammate in front of the restrooms before closing ceremonies. Kristi was a solo walker - the rest of her team had either fallen off the face of the earth or fallen ill in some shape or form. We immediately took Kristi and her Dirt'y Girl t-shirt in. One of her first tasks as honorary team member was to take a picture of all of us, which sounded simple enough - until we noticed that she had the camera accidentally pointing towards her own face... hilarity ensued, and we got a couple of great photos with lots of teeth out of the escapade.

After an interview with Channel 3 news and the remainder of opening ceremonies the walking began...

Soon after our departure, we were greeted by Stan (of chemo room fame) and Darlene.
He's back on chemo after a brief respite. His latest scan showed that it has spread everywhere, and for the first time in the 10 years that he's been battling, Stan is in pain. Dr. Cav is trying a new cocktail, a different combination of drugs he has already tried, in the hopes that this one may take. They're also looking into clinical trials. We saw them yesterday at the oncologist's office and were talking a bit about the state of things. Stan expressed his feelings of frustration - that every weekend, everywhere there is a race, a walk, a climb, a pancake breakfast to raise funds toward research for various cancers but yet, where is the cure. I suppose it comes from a different perspective, when all you can remember is chemo after chemo and the knowledge that after a while, there are no more chemo cocktails left to try, even though the funds toward research is providing for better therapies, fewer side effects, better long-term outcomes. Still, WHERE IS THE CURE?

Back to last Friday... we were walking, and talking with people around us. It was late in the day, and nearing 18 miles of walking. Everyone was getting tired and a guy with a group behind us was joking that they are walking to find the cure, and wouldn't it be great if we just could walk around the corner and "LOOK! There it IS! WE FOUND IT!! Phew, we can stop walking now..."

Wouldn't it be great....

We're back from another three days of walking and thinking and laughing and dreaming. Of hopes and of aches and of memories and of inspiration. Each of my experiences has been so different, even though they have all been filled with a common goal, and common themes. This year was no exception.

How can one find the words to describe it? How do you come back from three days like we just spent, and while you try to convey the message to someone that wasn't there - there are some things that even photographs can't quite capture.

I lay in bed last night, trying to fall asleep, and smiling at the things that were running through my head. Who knew that peanut butter and jelly on crimped white bread was the breakfast of champions? Short sheets and streakers and former Olympian tent neighbors. Scott's shvoogie patrol and permanent spot in the medical tent and funky tights - always making sure to eat, drink, scratch, and pee. We learned the correct pronunciation of Moushey (Mow-SHAY) and took on a new teammate for next year. Searching for tiny rum bottles in convenience stores without luck. Broccoli after-effects and hording Biofreeze. Savoring the once-a-year deliciousness of Tecate and Cornnuts - as mentioned, some things you simply can't explain. A moment of silence on the Mill Avenue Bridge. Luminaries on a chilly Sunday morning. Remembering those not with us, and loving the ones that were. Greg summed it up on Friday morning...

You cry a little at the beginning, you cry a lot at the end, and along the way you meet the most amazing people and hear the most amazing stories.

This year, that rang true more than ever - and it will take more than this one entry to talk about some of them. The brother and sister who had lost their mother last year. The 35 year survivor that was diagnosed at 28. Alissa, in the shower line, who had just reached the 5-year mark. Barry, walking every event, with his inspiration being that he was simply part of the human race. The Scottsdale firefighter who sees my truck every day. Michael from the MotoCrew who may get an entry of his own. The woman that turned 66 on Sunday and who was a 22 year survivor. The Gear and Tent crew member who gave me an angel last year and who this year told me it had all come full circle. Mostly, the amazing people I had the opportunity to spend three days of my life with. There are so many more stories to tell.

Yesterday, I think we were having a bit of "day after Christmas" let-down. You experience what we have for three days, and then you come back and are sort of... regular again. It's dissipating slowly this morning and I look forward to sharing some of the stories in entries to come.

Meanwhile, I have been mostly distracted from the fact that in a couple of hours I'll find out whether or not my stay of execution has been extended through 2009. I feel good. I feel strong. I know that isn't always a harbinger of the fact that there is nothing growing inside. In a couple of hours, I'll know for certain. Either way, whatever that paper says, whether or not I'm still a miracle patient - we'll deal with it.

We always do.