Day Three: final stretch

[saffronhare]

Just so you know, it's totally possibly to stuff one's sleeping bag into a compression sack while sort of still sitting on it, with one's eyes closed the whole time. After that, I shuffled out to the portajohns with my gear and then shuffled into a line that was shuffling onto a bus. I resisted the urge to mutter, "baa!" But just barely. :) Once we got to camp and were sitting on the buses, waiting for the last of the lightning to pass, it became apparent that I'd shuffled onto a CREW bus -- me and two other walkers. Whoops. We stayed out of the way until breakfast was open, then ate and waited. Other walkers didn't start arriving until well after 6 a.m. Medical tent showed no signs of opening. Damn and blast.

We heard news that they were going to push back opening the course until 8 a.m., but everybody had to be walking by 8:45 a.m. at the latest. Except we couldn't get up to our tents yet, and we had to be all packed up with our gear turned in before we could start. And I wanted to have clean shoes and socks before I got my feet looked at. And. And. Except. Bleh. A little after 7 a.m., we were allowed up to our tents. By this time, I was frantic. And my feet hurt like the dickens. But, look! Did I see zylch on her little truck thingie? Coming my way? YES! YES! YES!

(Note: she had offered me a ride a couple of times before, and I cheerfully declined, saying I was Just Fine. This time, I was Absolutely Not Just Fine.)

I waved her down, and asked what it would take to get a ride up to my tent. She asked precious few questions and just got me there lickety-split. I honestly believe this is the moment that started turning my day around. I tossed a dime to Hermes in thanks and blessing.

The tent had held steady in the night, and my gear seemed to be Mostly Dry. Nothing I needed for that day was wet, anyway, and I didn't bother to inspect anything else. Enough water had leaked into the tent that I had a nice puddle of cool, clean water in which to bathe my muddy feet before I put on my clean shoes and socks. Boy, did that ever feel good. Flip-flops went right into a ziploc bag for later. (Hi, my name is Nicole. I have a Ziploc fetish.)

I got my gear packed, and confirmed with the gear crew that I was supposed to pack up my tent (despite it all being wet) so they could transport them more safely. Sure. Packed tent and delivered it to the gear crew, and you would've thought I was a superhero. Seriously. Like, five different crew members came over to thank me for doing it. Huh. Turns out, a lot of pussies walkers flat refused to do this -- they'd been through a lot, I guess -- and were just leaving their tents in place, or dragging them over to the trucks. (shaking head) That just seemed a crappy way to treat people who were working so hard to take excellent care of us over the weekend. I mean, compared to setting it up, rolling it and stuffing it back into the bag was easy-peasy. Much less cumbersome than dragging it across the field, I would've thought.

Medical was again not available. I ran into one of the nurses I'd seen the night before at the warehouse, and she gave me some advice about self-care and where I oughta use Second Skin versus moleskin. Slapped it on, jammed my feet into the shoes with a prayer and a promise to look again at lunch (but not before, no way no how) and got on the course shortly after 8 a.m. That was lucky, because they kicked our asses most of the way.

See, even though they started late, closing ceremonies were not going to be at any time other than 5 p.m. That meant all the walkers needed to be off the course by 4:30 p.m. or else. Heck, I don't think everyone had even arrived from the warehouse by the time I left camp. Sheesh. That meant the pit stops were closing up behind us the whole morning, and we had very tight timelines for getting to every pit stop, or we'd be picked up in a sweep van and carried forward a stop or two along the route so we could get back on schedule. It was kind of interesting to observe how different walkers reacted to the news along the way. Some were like, oh, please, yes! Sweep me up! Others were like, fuck that, I'm not gettin' swept. Guess which group I was in? (grin)

I'd started off pretty lazy and slow (my recipe for success the previous two days had been to start Sooper Slow to finish strong and happy). Saw agrnmn for a surprise hug at the first cheering station. Sweet barefoot man walked up a hill with me, though I suspect he was only barefoot so I wouldn't know he was out getting groceries in his slippers. :) He'd also brought me one of those nifty bandanas, all soaked and filled with glorious coolness. Yes, it was a cool morning, but wow. Did that suckah ever feel good on my sunburn. I wore it most of the day. I made it to the first pit stop, blissfully unaware that I'd arrived only ten minutes before it was due to close and sweep any of us remaining forward to the lunch stop. eek! I don't think I've ever seen women make it into and out of bathrooms so fast in my whole life. We had an hour to make it to the next pit stop -- just over two miles away. I got there in 34 minutes, and kept up that pace for most of the rest of the day. Every stop, we gained a few minutes on the drop-dead sweep van threats. By the time we hit the stop just after lunch, we were back on schedule and no longer in any danger of being swept. It must've been tough for anybody starting after I did, though. I can't imagine enjoying the walk with that much pressure.

It turned out to be a beautiful day. I don't think a mile passed without me getting to greet a doggie, which made it super-nice. There was even a bull mastiff (dark brindle coloring) the size of a pony that gave me some very sweet snuffly nuzzles. In heaven, I was. The route took us eventually to 75th Street -- lunch was on the lawn at Shawnee Mission East High School -- meeting up with Ward Parkway, and north from there around the Plaza and through Westport before we got to the Liberty Memorial. Got to walk past Aquarius and drink up a little juju when the doors opened to let some luscious scent float my way. And then, there it was: the favored phallic symbol of the day, the Liberty Memorial. We took the long way 'round, naturally. The finish was pretty amazing. So crowded with friends and family and walkers who'd finished before me that I almost couldn't tell which way I was supposed to go. At that point, I felt like I could walk forever, which was crazy talk, but there you go. I got checked in, picked up my t-shirt, and joined the ranks cheering in the other walkers. I hardly teared up at all for my own finish, but cheering everyone else in...watching their faces, as they held hands with people helping them finish, holding pink flowers, beaming with pride...had me in tears withing moments. It was glorious. With the exception of one person who finished before me, I got to watch every one of the friends I'd made cross the finish line. Wow.

There was a lot of hugging and grooving and stretching and snacking between then and 5 p.m. (I'd finished at about 3 p.m.) Then we linked arms and walked down the hill (ow!) to the field where closing ceremonies were. Much less hokey...or maybe I was just much more into it. Dunno, and don't care. :)

Andrew was there -- right at the front, with TWO PAIRS OF CROCS (so I could choose the color I wanted). And they were playing the same Celtic thrash music that had sent us off! Walkers came in first, and we got to cheer the crew in, which was verrah cool. Then the survivors. I ran out of kleenex. After that, it's sort of a blur. We found my gear (which hubby lugged for me, bless 'im) and Via, who needed a ride home. We also found one of my walker friends, who was dragging her gear behind her, trying to figure out how to find the shuttle to the Embassy Suites. We gave her a ride. I say "we," but really I just announced we'd give her a ride and everyone else did the work.

Then, it was home for something to eat and a shower and some time with my feet up while I made a few phone calls. Then, sleep. And feet beginning to cash in on the deal. Go, me. Go, you guys. Thank you all. (beaming)

Comments

Errr, where'd Day Two go?

[triadruid.livejournal.com]

Fabulous story, by the way, just wondering if there was more.

Ready for the next level?

[aengus909.livejournal.com]

You are almost ready for the Nijmegan Death March! The city of Nijmegan in the Netherlands has since 1909 held a 4-day walk that is 50 kilometers a day, that's about 30 miles, through the hills around the town. But if you're in a military unit in full uniform with pack and rifle, you only have to do 40 km per day!