No one has ever suggested I was the smartest person on the planet, and there are many reasons for that. Persistent? Maybe. Smart? Debatable.
Flashback one year ago. Mohawk invited me to Denver to attend a Susan G. Komen 3-Day, which is when people walk 60 miles over three days in support of the fight against breast cancer and those who have either been afflicted or lost someone to this horrible disease. To say I was moved would be an understatement. People of all ages (one man I saw was over 80 years old) walking 20 miles for three consecutive days. The solidarity. The lasting relationships that have been forged through these events. It’s quite impactful to say the least. (I hear the same from those who have supported Shaw and the St. Jude 5K or 10K.)
Everyone seems to know someone who has battled breast cancer. Friends. Relatives. Co-workers. Me? Many years ago I had a wonderful therapist who lost her life to breast cancer. She was diagnosed with an aggressive form and gone within two years. She wasn’t even 35.
Anyway, my friends on the Mohawk marketing team suggested that I try to walk the following year. Mind you, a lot of things sound like a good idea when they are initially presented to me but might not be so good in practice. Sort of like when my friend suggested we swim in a cenote in Mexico. (Fun fact #1: I really don’t know how to swim.) But I did put my faith in a life jacket. What I was not told was that I was trying not to drown in 20 feet of water. Yay.
Needless to say, I agreed to walk this year with the caveat that I’d only do one day. More fun facts: I’m about 10-15 pounds overweight; the only cardio I’ve done this year was walk Surfaces for three days; and the Susan G. Komen 3-Day they have selected for me is Denver—the Mile High City where breathing doesn’t come easy. I think San Diego or Dallas would have been a better selection, but what do I know?
Whatevs; I’m in.
After my friends finished choking on their laughter with the vision of me trying to walk 20 miles, they set an over/under on how many times I’d be stopping for cocktails along the way. Then they got serious for a second. They told me I really would need to train for this. I agreed. Just like I agreed years ago that I needed to start cooking for myself. (Fun fact #3: I haven’t turned on my oven in nine years.) So while I believe it would be smart to train for this, time is a precious commodity of which I do not have an abundance. I was initially planning on coming right off the bench, but upon further review that may not be smart.
So I have enlisted my son’s girlfriend’s brother to train me. It’s a good choice. Cooper is an All-American collegiate wrestler, ranked second in the country in his weight class as he goes into his senior year. We will train together, hopefully getting up to 15 miles before Sept. 27. He will control my diet, which will cut fat and increase protein. Alas, he is taking me off alcohol in September. In the days leading up to the walk, I will start hitting my prednisone stash.
So why am I doing this? It’s pretty simple. I see how people suffer with breast cancer. I see how people who have lost a loved one to breast cancer suffer. I wanted to do something in support of all those people. The suffering I will experience from my exhaustion pales in comparison to what they go through. Maybe I will do a very small part to raise some awareness. Maybe I’ll even raise some money. Who knows? I haven’t thought that far ahead. I have two months. What I do plan to do is walk with some of my Mohawk friends and do an Instagram Live or Facebook Live or whatever they call it after every mile for awareness. Or so you all know I am still alive. I’ll walk, I’ll talk, I’ll probably stop here and there for some electrolyte-filled water or a Titos and soda. I’m not putting myself on a clock. I’ll finish when I finish. To prove a point. And that point is there are only three sure things in life: death, taxes and I will finish this damn thing. Hopefully before dark.
