• That young woman, walking so slowly? She's a single mom; she didn’t have time to train. Working two jobs and fundraising took all of the little free time she had. She hasn’t had a good night’s sleep since her mammogram and diagnosis, worrying about her kids and her bills. Then she said, “But I have to be here, I have to do this.”
• That bald man in his 70’s? Years ago, he shaved his head to support his wife when she was diagnosed. He doesn’t shave it anymore, after his own recent battle with cancer. His daughter is walking with him; sometimes they hold hands. If you can watch that without crying, you’re tougher than I am. His wife and son-in-law met them at the end of the first day’s walk. His wife’s in a wheelchair now. He hugged her tenderly, “Isn’t she beautiful? We’re still newlyweds, only been married 47 years. I walk for her. As long as I live, I will walk for her.”
• The older woman with a picture of a smiling young woman on her shirt? The shirt says, “I’d walk forever for one more day with you!” She was busy caring for her grandchildren when she wasn’t holding her daughter’s hand in the hospital. Her daughter died a few weeks before the Walk. Between the funeral, and her grandkids, there wasn’t much time to fundraise or train, but she promised her daughter she’d still walk. “I left Grandpa home with the little ones. Bless him, he can’t boil water; they’ll be eating take-out while I’m gone. But I had to keep my promise.”
• The walker with the beautiful smile I met on the first mile? The one who people thought, “could afford to lose a few pounds!” She told me her doctor said she couldn’t walk unless she lost weight. She lost 137 pounds, so she could walk for the best friend she also lost. They were friends since 1st grade. They always talked about doing a 3 Day Walk together. Her friend died last spring. They couldn’t come together, so she came alone. “I hate flying, and God only knows how I‘m going to walk all that way. I was all alone and scared coming out here to walk" she said softly, “I prayed that God would watch over me.” Then she looked at the thousands of other walkers around us, smiled from ear to ear and said, “He sure did send me a whole lot of angels!”
• That lady walking with a cane, who winces stepping up onto every curb? She’s battled breast cancer. Twice. Now it’s in her bones. She still walks, slowly, painfully, but she still walks. She told me, very calmly, “I won’t make it another year.” It was my last chance to get to know her, to hear her story. To hear that she’s walking so that maybe, just maybe, it will save someone else from the hell she’s gone through. She walks slowly, cautiously, and sometimes, sometimes she smiles. Ask her “Why?” and she’ll tell you, “I’m grateful for every breath, for every step. The pain? We’re old friends by now.”

I used to walk fast, now I walk slow. Parkinson’s, two bad knees, more than 50 Walks (I stopped counting), and a couple of decades later, I found my people, my tribe. I walk slower, I cry more. I’m grateful for both. And for your donations, which make it all possible.