One thing I will say about camp is we were fed really well. On day one for dinner we had spaghetti, garlic bread, green beans, salad, and a chocolate eclair for dessert. I ate every bite after that first day. For breakfast on day two we had scrambled eggs, bacon, biscuits, oatmeal, cereal, muffins, and yogurt. I didn't eat all of that, but ate plenty to get me going for the day.
Within the first mile, my knee started to really hurt again. We had a long downhill stretch at the very beginning, and down hurt much more than up. I made it 2.6 miles to the first pit stop where I got an ace bandage from medical. I was told that there would be a sports medicine tent at the next pit stop, which was at the 4.9 mile mark, so I just needed to make it another 2.3 miles to that pit stop.
When we got there I waited in line a long time because there were a lot of walkers needing help. When my turn with the physical therapist came she spent a lot of time massaging my leg, trying different taping methods, and twisting my leg this way and that to try and determine if anything was torn or broken. The physical therapist advised me to ice the knee at every pit stop and if need be, grab a sweep van to each pit stop instead of walking the whole way. I did not want to hear that.
On the way to the third pit stop at the 7.1 mile mark I decided I could not walk much more. I thought if I could just get a van to lunch and then walk the 3.3 miles from there to the next cheering station where my kids would be I'd be okay. Not happy, but okay because at least I would have a chance to walk by my kids and make them proud of their mom.
Somewhere between the 7.1 mark and lunch at 10.4 miles I put my arms up in an X to signal a sweep van, letting them know I need to be picked up. I'm glad I was wearing my sunglasses because tears streamed down my face the whole way into lunch. This was it. I had failed. I could no longer accomplish everything I'd set out to do. I could no longer walk every single mile of the 3-day, which I had trained so hard to do for seven months. I can't remember a time I felt more disappointed than I did on day two.
The view inside the sweep van, a view I had hoped to avoid.At lunch there were more long lines for medical assistance. I didn't want to stand in line to try again to figure out what might help. I just rested and iced my knee so I could squeeze 3.3 more miles out of it.
I waited for Ann, who kept on walking when I caught the sweep van, and after she'd eaten and rested we headed out together, both of us really looking forward to seeing our families on the route. I almost caught a sweep van to the next pit stop that was only .3 miles away from the cheering station because I was in so much pain and we still had at least a mile and a half to go, but decided to keep going, somehow I made it to the cheering station.
I can't tell you how wonderful it was to see my family on the route. They lifted my spirits so much. It was the best medicine in the world. At one point, Mike kneeled down on one knee, put both of his hand on my hurt knee and prayed. I was very touched, not in much of a believing mood at that point, but moved to tears. When we said our goodbyes and continued our walk my knee didn't hurt a bit. I still believed it was best to catch a sweep van, and then get on the SAG bus which would take me back to camp, though.
When I had walked far enough away so that my kids wouldn't see, I again made the X signal with my arms and got on the sweep van. I felt a little guilty getting on when my knee wasn't hurting at all, but I figured that was just because of the endorphins that kicked in when I saw my darling husband and sweet kids. That and my knee had had a little rest, and it always felt better for a few steps after resting, but then got progressively worse.
At the next pit stop, I got on the big SAG bus. (the nice air conditioned bus that takes weary walkers back to camp.)
The bus was completely full of walkers who could no longer walk. Some were young, some old, some skinny, and some with more to love, but all were hurting and disappointed to be going back to camp. At this point, although I was disappointed, I was no longer sad. I had gotten all the crying out of my system, and I was determined to rest and take care of my knee so that my last day on the walk would be an AWESOME one.
Back at camp I showered, hung out in the 3-day cafe with my leg up writing in my journal, and talking on the phone to Mike and the kids. When Dona and Frosty got back they were both hurting so badly that they were crying, and then we all were laughing because they literally had to crawl on their hands and knees to get into the shady spot next to our tents. I teased them about taking their pictures while they were crawling, and oh what a sight they were. I was sorry to see them hurting, majorly impressed that they walked the entire 19.5 miles of day two when I saw their blisters, and couldn't help wondering if I had wimped out a little too early. These ladies are both quite a bit older than I, and they showed twice the determination and mental stamina.
After a nice long rest they hobbled to dinner and I walked with a spring in my step. My knee didn't hurt at all. In fact, it really hadn't bothered me once since I left the cheering station and the healing prayers of my husband.
That night we had a dance party!
I didn't dance. I wanted to save my knee for day three, whatever it might bring, but laughing with the people I had walked with in training for six months and enjoying each other's company was a real treat. I went to bed, and after all the noise of the crew breaking down camp late at night, I crashed. I was ready for day three, whatever it might bring.
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