The 3-Day Today newsletter greeted us with an important message: “You have made it through the two longest days of the 3-Day, so today should be easy—right! Just keep in mind to keep pace so you will be at Montrose Harbor by 1:30 PM to get ready for the Closing Ceremonies.”

It was hard getting up, but even tho it was cold, it wasn’t as cold as the night before. We packed up our tent and headed out for breakfast. While in line, Candus and I decided we wanted to dart into the general store and buy some T-shirts. Another great bowl of oatmeal with about 10 sugar packets, hash browns, ham (which we skipped, of course), blueberry muffins, cheese blintzes, fruit.

We intended to get going earlier than we did, around 7:30. It really warmed up fast, so I was glad I ditched my sweatshirt and the thought of wearing sweatpants. What a gorgeous day. The first pit stop seemed to come out of nowhere, but we stocked up as usual. I even stopped by the medical tent to get some bandaids for my (2) blisters, which kinda hurt, and they told me to remove the blister pads and just use Vaseline. So I did. They didn’t feel any worse, and really by the end, they were fine. In fact, I felt in pretty good shape.

The next cheering station caught me by surprise, too, especially when I saw MOM! AGAIN! I’d forgotten all about her being there! It was just as great seeing her again, and everyone else was glad to see her too. Then, on thru Evanston and to the lake; surely the prettiest place we’d been so far. Saw the 2 Steves again. We walked thru Loyola, which was really nice (except for the kamikaze bicyclist who practically slammed into Annette, causing her to swear loudly, followed by a quick, “I’m sorry! That wasn’t kind!”). Saw lots of cheering people.

And, we made up a song. To the tune of “The Brady Bunch” theme song:

Here’s the story
Of 4 lovely walkers
Who were walking for a very worthy cause.
2 of them were pushing 40
2 more in menopause.

So they piled in the truck up to Wisconsin
For the very moving 3 days it would be
There they met 3,000 others
Who started blister-free.

At the first pit stop they used a port-o-potty
And decided it was not that bad at all
By the time they reached their final destination,
They were longing for a normal flushing stall.

Some bodies ached
Some feet were sore
But the love and kindness helped them walk some more.

Till the next day when they woke up at 4:30
And they knew it was the longest day of all
But the oatmeal and granola gave them courage
Soon they were walking tall.

The crew was great
The tents weren’t bad
When they finished 60 miles they were GLAD!!

Then...we were done! I just couldn’t believe it (and said so about a million times). We were approaching the intersection and on the other side were all the cheering crowds. I stood there for a second and just savored the moment. My personal triumph. I DID IT!! When we got to the other side, I thought it was just like camp or a Pit Stop with people cheering, but I realized that we were walking thru an aisle of walkers who had just finished. They were high-fiving us, patting us on the back, cheering us on, etc, as we walked through the line. Unbelievable. I was just overwhelmed. The line of people seemed to go on forEVER. What a rush. When we got to the end of the line, we joined in, welcoming those walkers who came in after us. Boy, was that fun! I saw the woman who’d gotten lightheaded in the shower line! It was a big party! When we got out of the line, of course, we all dashed for the port-o-potties.

The holding area was great: a big park full of incredibly happy people, music, sunshine. We ate lunch (veggie wrap, chips, grapes, cookies, fruit cocktail) and got our Victory T-shirts: pink for breast cancer survivors; blue for the rest of us.

After lunch and cheering and peeing, Elma and Annette joined the other “pinks” to wait together, and all the blues gathered together near the path to the ceremonies. It was sunny and warmer than any other day, which meant even more water was necessary. So, of course, as I stood there, 60 miles behind me, all I could think about was where the next port-o-potties were going to be. As we started to head out, we did see a woman squatting, surrounded by friends holding T-shirts around her, and I was afraid that’s what I’d have to do—or bolt out of my place in the mob and re-join at the end (or not at all!).

We had to keep quiet as we began the Victory March—a mile to the site where Closing Ceremonies were held. Per our instructions, we used sign language for “applause” and “I love you” to cheer the crew members and onlookers who lined our path so our approach would be silent.

Slowly we started walking along the path, through the beautiful park on this beautiful day: 3,000-plus blue T-shirts with arms waving overhead silently. The path was lined with all the crew and volunteers: we all waved, high-fived, thumbs-upped, and I love you’d each other, silently, crying, smiling, just unbelievable. As we walked on, we encountered spectators lining the path who were cheering us (audibly) and we returned their cheers silently.

Soon, we were there!!!!! I don’t know what it looked like as we entered, I just heard the same triumphant music from the Opening Ceremonies, and we walked into a big open area with spectators on either side, fenced off. I’m so glad I was on the end, because I heard, “Julia!” And there was my brother-in-law Char and Dave!!! I hugged them and kissed Dave quickly and continued on, hand in hand with Candus, arms raised.

As we walked into the Closing Ceremonies, we heard the announcer on stage: “Here they are, ladies and gentlemen, all the way from Wisconsin!” Then we knew we’d really done it! People cheered us from both sides (“and they’re still coming!”), we got into the area and removed our shoes, waving them overhead. Unbelievable. Then they introduced the survivors, “Please welcome a group of LEGENDARY women...the breast cancer survivors of the Chicago 2000 walk!! The line of (too many) women in pink T-shirts came triumphantly down a center, raised aisle, as all of us in blue T-shirts cheered on either side. We managed to get close enough to the aisle to see Elma and Annette, get pictures, and yell “We love you!” Then the crew members came down the same aisle, and we all did the “I’m not worthy” motion and cheered them. Then, once again, came the circle of 7. The announcer: “We said in Wisconsin that we would build over three days a living, breathing human monument to all those fallen and and a promise of survival and that we would never give up.”

As the letter from Avon stated, “How can anyone who wasn’t there, among the sea of swaying bodies and hands raised in silent applause, comprehend the once-in-a-lifetime experience that gathered like a storm cloud on Day Zero and broke in torrents of tears during the Closing Ceremonies?”

It was indeed a life-changing experience. One I’m looking forward to repeating in 2001.

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