And I Would Walk 500 More...

I was seriously afraid to sit down and take part in the foot massaging station, even though my feet were screaming at me…totally pissed and rebelling with all their might. But if I sat in one of those comfy chairs with the electronic back massager contraption…would I ever get up? I decided to take my chances…and I ended up being one of the lucky ones, because I got to sit next to my bestie, Lisa, of the Beard Sisters…some of our teammates were scattered about, next to people they didn’t know…in fact, Wendy ended up seated right next to my sister-in-law, Megan…remember her? I hadn’t seen her once since those first two miles and then there she was, right next to Wendy in the foot massage station. But Wendy was lucky…PJ had asked the girl who ended up next to Lisa if she could have that seat so she would be with her teammates, and the girl practically bit her head off…guess all that “We did it!” goodwill had skipped over that b*tch…PJ was a little stunned, but moved on…

And so it was…Lisa and I chit chatted a little and Megan came over to say goodbye…and I will say, Megan and Mary and Kerri and Sam, who are all marathoners and/or triathletes, each said that they could not believe how hard it was to walk 26 miles, and how banged up they felt…so I felt a little less guilty and slothful than I might have when Lisa and I finally rose from those chairs after 15 minutes of massage and electronic heat and could barely move my legs to carry me out of the tent…I looked like a 90 year old woman with a prosthetic leg. Had a feeling the sit-down would come back to haunt me…how the hell was I supposed to lay in bed all night and still be able to get up and walk the next morning?

Somehow it was Suse who was able to move about most readily, Lisa and I depending fully on her relative dexterity…she took on big sis role to me in addition to her actual sister and had already talked to Mary and Sam and Helen who were headed to The Shoreham in advance of us, and she found the rest of our team so we could all say goodbye, and then she went to the Info booth and got the Walk route for the next morning and then found out where the buses taking us back to Manhattan were parked. So as Lisa and I limped along behind her on way to the shuttle buses, Lisa told me she felt nauseous…and I looked at her and she was truly ashen…with white lips…in fact, her brown eyeliner, probably applied 12 hours earlier, stood out…almost cartoonish…jumping off her face at me. So I called out to Suse with a lame: “Your sister is going to get sick…” And thankfully, as she reached us…the moment had passed…but Lisa still looked like a pale white ghost as we took our seats on the shuttle bus, in the way back, right next to the bathroom…you know, just in case....

On the way back to Manhattan we talked of cheeseburgers and beer and room service…long hot baths and massages…soft downy pillows and warm cozy blankets. We hoped Mary would have all of the above waiting for us upon return…only a few minutes now….

And then the bus stopped on Lex, near some side entrance to Grand Central Station…and it took us more than a few minutes to rise from our seats and limp down that narrow bus aisle and down those steps onto the sidewalk, where they dumped us for good. So then we stood there, for 20 minutes, trying to hail a cab….no dice…just so not happening…and we are getting so discouraged…thoughts of warm baths and cheeseburgers slipping away. We start inching back up Lex thinking we might catch one on the cross streets…but there were all these people hailing cabs too…and they could move and run so they had the upper hand on us…we three weak little ladies, Suse the only one strong and useful enough to even attempt the process…again, we became fully dependent upon her.

So then one of those car service Lincoln Town Cars in between jobs drives up and asks us if we need a ride…and we know you are not supposed to get into those cars…we know that it is illegal…but we didn’t f&%$ing care…getting into that backseat was the fastest I had moved all day. We are at 46th and Lex and we tell him that we are going to 55th between Fifth and Sixth…and he says: “$20 plus tip…” And though on a normal day with no injuries, we could walk this route for free in 12 minutes tops, we jump on the deal and off we go. So our driver Hector or Miguel or Jose is a nice fellow and introduces himself and as we scoot up 45th Street, heading West, he tells us that Sixth Avenue was closed for a street festival. So I think to myself, so what? You will make a right onto Madison and a left onto 55th and we will be home free…But, stupidly, in a misguided bulls**t attempt at politeness, I do not verbalize this notion…I know, not like me but you see, a few weeks ago there was this mean cabbie who snapped at me, so I was a little gun shy…and wouldn’t you know it…the dude screams through the light at 45th and Madison to my utter amazement…sonofab*tch!!! And there we are, stuck in the vortex of hell…can’t turn up Sixth because of that fair, right? So instead, we have to go all the way to Eighth, through Times Square on a Saturday night….I am seeing red, but so exhausted too…and pissed at myself…

“Wait, wait, wait…” was all I could manage…

And Hector/Miguel/Jose goes -- now remember, all we want is a bed and some room service and some cushy blankets -- and he goes: “Oh, whoops…I should have taken Madison…sorry…don’t hate me…”

Hate you? I am going to f&%$ing kill you! I swear…this rivaled Manhattan Bridge for the most frustrating moment of the day. So we sat there in angry silence as it took this guy 30 minutes to get us from 45th Street to 55th Street…all the while he chit chatted in Spanish on his cell phone as tourists and daytrippers darted in and out of traffic…if my feet were working, I would have jumped out at a light…but alas…I was an invalid…and the Beard Sisters were now both ashen and nauseous. F&%$ing great! When we finally were dropped off sort of in front of The Shoreham, we threw a $20 bill and two singles at him (nice tip, right??)…and limped inside…directly to the elevator and up to room 305…where Mary awaited us…

And as we dropped our belongings and made deals on shower schedule and ordered up some room service, peppy Mary said she had bathed and was enjoying a glass of wine...and as we listed our complaints and showed our war wounds and swollen joints and ragged tootsies to the group, it became clear that there would be no girlie slumber partying, no fantasy pillow fights starring me, Mary and the Beard Sisters in our little nighties...sorry boys, I know you were hoping...No, maybe next time...instead, as Lisa, Suse and myself each emerged from the shower, exhaustion gripping our bodies, some odd little rash on Lisa's ankle and doubt shaking my confidence for my chances to continue on this journey tomorrow...I swear, in that shower I wept and told myself that I had to face facts, I was never going to make it another 13 miles in less than 10 hours out...I came out of the shower concerned and a little quiet...but Mary read me and she knew right away that she had to put the wine glass down and become nursemaid...And this is when room 305 thusly transformed into the Infir-Mary....

Suse -- whom I had teased when she told me she packed her electronic foot bath -- plugged that sucker in and poured about 3 pounds of the 10 pound bag of Epsom salt that she also brought along. How could I have ever giggled at her preparedness? Lisa and I laid down and Mary went to work performing surgery on our feet...I will leave the gory details out so you foot fetishists out there don't explode, but let's just say that the Beard Sisters were beyond genius in packing that needle and thread...who knew? And then, as the sliders we ordered from room service arrived (I took one bite before I gave up...one...), Mary examined my knee and ankle, the Aleve having worn off long ago, and determined that they were most likely sprained. And in my mind I am thinking of my Dad and Rob who have both endured knee replacements...and I am silently screaming at myself for walking 18 miles further after knowing I was injured...but I just could never have stopped...how could I? So Mary calls room service for more ice, which the guy brought up with the extra Heinz ketchup (we had the Beards of Pittsburgh with us, you see...)...and she elevated my knee and ankle and packed ziploc bags with ice cubes and covered my joints in them while I popped another Aleve. And I fell asleep that way. It was 10:15 p.m.

At 3 a.m. I woke and saw Lisa standing outside the bathroom...and I was wide awake in a millisecond and I needed to know right away: "How do your feet feel?" I asked. And she said: "They are actually fine...I feel ok." And I realized that my leg felt ok too... Neither one of us spoke again...and we fell asleep until the alarm rang at 7 a.m. I sat up in bed and swung my feet around to stand....

And dammit if my sprained leg and blistered feet and creaky joints weren't almost perfectly pain-free and unswollen and sort of flexible and ready to rock...and so...we dressed and readied and stretched and began day two.... I was secretly shocked...night before at 10 p.m., my prediction would have been all day Sunday in the ER...and here I was. And again, I just kept thinking of Kathy...I wasn't missing this for anything...so thrilled I didn't have to. And I remembered my grandmother...and I remembered how it was her spirit for sure that pushed me those last 2 miles...and I was sure it was her energy that made me ready and able to do it again. And off we went...back to East 84th and York Avenue, my family's street, and the start point for Day 2.

So the Jugheads were scattered about the route at different points...I started with the Shoreham posse -- the Beard Sisters, Mary, Helen and Sam...Suse on the phone determining the location of our teammates...and as we walked I realized that if I stopped at all...even for a minute or two, I was never going to make it to the end. And I do not know, maybe it was my grandmother again but at about 109th Street I clicked into high gear, put my head down and busted into a pace that took me to the head of the Jughead pack, Mary and Sam and Kim and Helen alongside me. And I wasn't in anyway trying to be anti-social...I could never be...but I just knew if I lollygagged or strolled my feet would never take me. And so...I barely spoke from Morningside Park all the way to Columbus Avenue and 77th when we all finally caught up for lunch...and I didn't want to stay there at this stop, but we waited for the whole group to catch up again before moving forward...and soon we were en route again...and soon I was silent and determined again, behind a couple from Bermuda who were blowing a kazoo all the way down Central Park West and into Midtown...and Sam and I were side by side, joined by Betsy and Ellen and Jen and Jessica, Mary up ahead a little as we passed 1185 Avenue of the Americas, my office...(back at work with Dad, another story...) and past Bryant Park where I was engaged and where I watched movies with Ellie this summer...and past Macy's and Herald Square where this woman wearing one of those "Save Second Base" buttons nearly stepped in front of a bus, and the Avon volunteer, this dude in leather chaps and muttonchops, said: "Hey lady, watch yourself...forget saving second base, you're going to lose homeplate too...and nobody wants that..." Sam and Betsy and I thought that was hysterical, the little double entrendre...yeah, we don't want to lose either of those. And as we hit Madison Square Park and got stuck behind this group of Euros shopping at the street fair, I grabbed Sam's wrist and was pushed passed them...because I knew that Union Square -- our final rest stop before the finish -- was not far beyond us. And I realized that I had not stopped at one rest stop or snack station or anything other than lunch since Harlem.

At Union Square some of the girls hit the potties and I stood waiting...and Chris and Susan and Nancy showed up and said the gang wasn't far behind...but as soon as Sam emerged, I grabbed her and said that I could not wait...I had to keep going...I waved to Chris and said: "I have to keep moving..." And we realized as we caught up with Mary and the YMCA posse and headed across 17th Street that we only had two miles to go from there.... At Tenth Avenue we found Dana who had busted ahead of Chris and Susan and Nance because her knee had become a major handicap....we only talked with her for a few minutes before we moved forward again. But as we rounded the bend passing Chelsea Piers, Sam and Mary just pulled out ahead and out of my reach....and somehow the YMCA posse lagged behind me...and I knew I had to get to 45th Street...and there I was at 23rd...and I was alone. I realized I had not seen the Beard Sisters or Kathy or Wendy or Teri or PJ or Kerri, my 12th Street Ale House sisters, since lunchtime...since mile 6. And I missed them at that moment...so I put my head down and said "only 20 more blocks to go" over and over again....and somehow that mantra carried me the rest of the way....

And about two blocks before the Finish Line I heard a familiar voice calling me: "Suz! Suz!...wait here with us!" And it was Mary and Sam...and they stood there with Mr. and Mrs. Rail, Kathy and Kerri's mom and dad...and they were there to cheer us on as we crossed the Finish Line. And Mary told me that we would wait here for the rest of the Jugheads so that we could cross together, as a team. Exactly as it should be...as we had all always meant for it to be...

And soon the YMCA posse was upon us, and ADP and Jodi and Kim came back over to find us...and I texted Suse who told me the rest of the group was only 4 blocks away, on 39th Street. And soon we could see them and we all cheered and clapped and hugged and Kathy kissed her mom and dad...and we all regrouped and some of us held hands and there were a few tears....and as we crossed the Finish Line together, Margaret and Jill were there cheering us on with their signs and happy support...again...giving us all high fives as we passed. Also waiting for us were some of the families, and friends from home...Kerry and Kelli and Jean from our church group were there handing out roses and taking pictures of us as we celebrated.

We did it.

Thirty-nine miles on broken knees, busted feet, stiff joints, nourished by crackers and Goldfish and SunChips and water...and one of us, only 3 days out from her treatment, the strongest of all... Twenty-three women, moms and wives and daughters and sisters...mostly we were sisters...we raised over $61,000 for breast cancer research and all we had to do was walk 39 miles with one another....

I wouldn't trade one second of it...I would walk over that Manhattan Bridge 10 times over risking my life against crazy bikers and determined Hasidic men and hallucination...I would quasi-jog/power walk up York Avenue against time and red lights and that sweep van...I would cry and hurt and lay in bed with my friends all wrapped in ice packs...damn, I would even take 30 minutes to go 10 blocks in a cab through Times Square all over again. This was an amazing experience...

And, believe it or not, we are already planning the return.... Jugheads 2010.

xoxoxoxo

Photos

1. Lisa and me applying a little electronic heat at the end of Day 1...somehow we picked our a**es up out of those seats only minutes later...

2. Kerri and Suse and a bunch of women we have never met taking in the foot massage station...

3. Lisa and I hanging onto one another as Suse leads us to the bus...seriously, how many shades of white separate us...I'd say she's Linen and I am Clotted Cream...

4. Our actual Shoreham Hotel beds...awaiting our arrival with their cushy pillows and soft sheets...

5. Illegal car service/Lincoln Town Car from hell...Hector/Miguel/Jose is lucky he didn't end up in the trunk...

6. Vortex of traffic/tourist/daytripping hell....

7. Me and my Shoreham roommates, Lisa, Suse and Mary, pre-Walk...much prettier and pulled together that Friday night, just before our fantasy pillow fight....

8. My tootsies in happier times...lavishing the sands of Longboat Key this past August...

9. The Beard Sisters and I...my walking partners, besties and 12th Street Ale House sisters...

10. Mary, Helen and Sam...the rest of The Shoreham posse, my Day 2 buddies....

11. Walking along, not stopping...

12. The Rail Sisters with Mom and Dad just before finishing....

13. The Jugheads cross the Finish Line...

14. Kathy and I celebrate the Finish...

15. The Jughead sisterhood...only 356 days until next year!!! Yes, yes...I am aware that we are insane...what else is new??

PS Thirteen years ago today Rob and I were married in the middle of a Nor'easter that shut down the entire Northeast...we always have to make a splash...A memorable and happy day...xo

So, Up On Your Feet...

I know… I can’t stand “To Be Continued” either… I totally remember being like 10 or whatever and watching a very special episode of One Day at a Time on some weekend night, my parents out, RJ and I all alone in that big old house on Mohawk Road in Franklin Lakes…and Julie/Mackenzie Phillips ran away or got caught drinking or smoking the herb or having sex (I could make a Papa John joke here, but even I have standards...)…and I remember she slapped Bonnie Franklin across the face or Bonnie/Ms. Romano slapped Mackenzie and Barbara/Valerie Bertinelli began to bawl and that stalker/peeping Tom, Schneider was pretending to fix something and they all stared at one another dramatically as the big white chironed letters appeared below: To Be Continued…And RJ and I were so pissed! We had to wait a whole week to find out what Ms. Romano would do next…that blows! Well, at least you know that I was not holding back so that I could milk some extra ratings and advertising dollars during sweeps month…no…I just needed an intermission…and thus it continues…

Saturday, October 10th
Day 2, Part 2

The Manhattan Bridge…jeezuzgod…I don’t know what it was, truly…I mean, we were already hurting, you know…this was 15 miles in… though we were beginning to question the validity of the mileage…this felt a lot closer to 18 than 15…could these peppy Avon b*tches be lying to us? Messing with our minds? And even though we stopped after crossing into Brooklyn and re-hydrated and grabbed another pb&j on graham crackers and Lisa had passed out the Aleve, a little low-blood sugar malaise must have crept its way into our brains…because we all became quiet…and kind of confused. You know, most of our teammates were far enough ahead of us that we were unsure as to what point on the course they were...were they even ahead of us? Maybe they were actually behind us now…not a clue.

So it was still me and the Beard Sisters, Kathy, PJ, Kerri, Wendy and Teri at this point…and Mark’s sister, Kristen too…who I had only just learned at that point in the Walk, was 8 weeks pregnant!!!! I would have been lying down on the road at mile marker 1 at 8 weeks in, I must say…what a champ. So, as we stepped onto the bridge, there was an Avon Walk volunteer on a bicycle and all he said was: “Stay single file and to right, there are a lot of bikers on the bridge…” …and as the words left his lips, a guy on a bike zipped passed us, coming off the ramp at no less than 50 miles an hour.

And so began the urban angst/mind-f%$!/hallucinatory segment of our journey…

I remember the subway car on the overpass all loud and crashing, at 5 minute intervals…rattling down the tracks above our heads and rattling our nerves along the way. Each time it passed, I felt like it frayed my will and fortitude… On top of that there was a succession of sadistic bikers speeding by us and yelling, gruff and angry “Move aside! Move aside!” And we would jump out of the way, our hearts racing…each time it shook us even deeper. Then there were scores of Hasidic men behind us, walking the bridge…and they just pushed us aside to get by, we would almost be pressed up against the protective grating on the bridge to stay out of their reach. So if that doesn’t set the tone…

You know, we didn’t even bother trying to talk much…Lisa and I were side-by-side, Suse just ahead of us and PJ ahead of her, cell phone to her ear, though she did tell Suse, who tried asking her a question: “I’m in a bad way up here…” Kathy and Wendy and Teri had disappeared from sight, though for a while we could see Kath’s pink bandanna bouncing along…but they wanted to get off this bridge as much as we did…. Lisa tried to make me laugh as this big bearded Euro approached us by saying, “well at least Javier Bardem showed up…” And I so wanted to join in on the “spot the celeb twin” game…but my response was this: “I don’t know where I am…do you know where we are?...I don’t think we are ever going to get there…” And she told me afterwards that I also said: “I think Rob is coming to get me when we got off this bridge…”

But we descended…and soon we were back in Manhattan…on the Lower East Side at a rest stop next to some caged-in soccer field where a bunch of Brazilian guys were playing a game. And we sat for a minute and regained our wits…and the volunteers handed us each one of those little Dum Dum lollipops as we refilled our water bottles. And as I stood there, it seemed my knee wasn’t quite so tender (the Aleve, maybe??) and Teri and Lisa replaced their bandages and Kathy said: “Come on girls, let’s finish strong…” How could we not go on…and so we did…

And wouldn’t you know it…we were only half a mile from the Manhattan Bridge end-point when up in the distance, on the corner of Second Avenue and 1st Street at the Exxon station, we saw them….Margaret and Jill, cheering us on… "Go Jugheads! Go Jugheads!”…and they posted their traveling Team Jughead sign and we were blown away…I cried again, of course…because they were always there to keep us going…how amazing, I mean, these ladies weren’t even Kath’s own sisters…yet there they were every time we needed them most...

And then Suse said something to me that summed it all up…that this whole experience is about being a sister to the women in your life. On our team alone there were four sets of sisters, and seven of the women were sisters-in-law… we were sistergirlfriends, too, Team Jughead, loving and supporting one of our own…and then there were Margaret and Jill…like big sisters to all of us…truly, the big sister that would lay down in front of a bus for you…or drive around New York City stopping along your Walk route just so she could cheer you on.

Ok, I told myself…I can make it another 10 miles now. And I headed up Second Avenue with the Beard Sisters by my side.

“Hey Jugheads!” we heard from behind…and it was Kathy and the rest of our straggling posse and they had the most evil little grins on their faces…And Kathy says…

“What do you say at the next bar we see, we go in and slam a beer before we keep going…”

Hallelujah! Hallelujah! Music to my rattled eardrums…this is the kind of festivity I can get behind… the one thing that could bring us back to top form.

So apparently our legs felt better all of a sudden, because we practically skipped the next few blocks until we came upon the 12th Street Ale House...and it was exactly what you might picture, given the name. The room was kind of dark and there was only one guy sitting at the bar, talking to the bartender…and they seemed kind of surprised to see us. Kerri asked the guy how much nine Coronas would cost and he told her $27…Happy Hour! This was perfect timing on so many levels…she ordered them up, limes and all…and we cheered and chugged and refreshed and rejuvenated. And the guy at the barstool shot photos of us as we toasted…Manhattan Bridge, a distant memory. Right before we headed out, only 15 minutes after entering, Kath said we should have a beer every three miles until we get to Randall’s Island…and I turned to Teri and Wendy and said: “I think we should have 10 beers here and then take a cab to Randall’s Island…”…which made us all crack up as though it was by far the funniest thing ever spoken…so maybe we were still a little punchy…

Let me tell you, my friends…I am no proponent of using booze to

solve your problems, but 12th Street Ale House and that communal Corona consumption will be forever in my Top 5 happiest beer moments in history (will tell you about the others another time…after a few beers…). So we headed back up Second Avenue with a spring in our step and an extra twinkle in our eyes…spirits so lifted. As we trudged forward I checked my watch…it was 4:30 p.m….we had less than two hours to get to Randall’s Island…

So let me fast forward past the next 60 blocks or so, beyond the moment that we met up with Margaret and Jill again, this time in front of a Greek Diner, our Jugheads sign hanging in the window…and beyond the 30 second debate we took up in the East 60’s over whether or not we should pound another beer at some place called O’Flaherty’s…and I won’t tell you about how we stopped at Dunkin’ Donuts/Baskin Robbins where the Beard Sisters and I partook of some Jamoca Almond Fudge and Pralines ‘n Cream and Chocolate Peanut Butter ice cream. What happened after that is the most important part of the day…the moment where this Jugheads posse showed what we were made of…

With ice cream dripping down my wrist I ran to catch up with the others who were collected on the corner of 71st and First…a bevy of Avon volunteers surrounding them. And when I arrive I hear them telling Kathy to get into their little shuttle van so they could drive us to Randall’s Island before darkness set in….What???? WTF? No way…we made it this far with the only Walker among the entire 5,000 who was still sporting signs of treatment…there was no way these b*tches were going to sweep us into their crappy little van.

“We aren’t getting in…” Kathy told them. Swiper, no swiping!

And against their will, the Avon volunteers in the sweep van had to let us go. It was 5:20 p.m….we had 55 minutes to be on the Randall’s Island Bridge or they would close us out. So…the quasi-jog/power walk foot race against time and traffic lights began up York Avenue. And we did it, our hearts racing, knees hurting, blisters bursting all the way to our turn off on East 84th Street.
East 84th Street and York Avenue…this is the street upon which my father grew up…this is where my grandmother lived…and she had succumbed to breast cancer before I was born. And as I pointed out #504 to the girls, there was a gust of wind – we all felt it – and I knew her spirit was there, cheering Team Jughead to the finish…All choked up, we sailed across the street to the East River Esplanade. It was 5:55…two more miles before the Randall’s Island bridge…we had to book it…so we did. Ok…well, we did lollygag for a minute as we discussed the Esplanade and how much it looked like the setting at which they shot the Justin Timberlake comedy classic: “D*** in a Box”…so we had to fall over laughing about that for a few minutes (Hanukkah? a d*** in a box…Kwanzaa? a d*** in a box…. ) Sorry, as I write I am just cracking up…as Will would say: “That just never gets unfunny…”

So…we book it…and we come around the bend and we are starting to sprint…and we reach the bridge at 6:14 and 59 seconds…no lie. And guess what? We still had another ¾ of a mile to walk before we hit the finish line for this leg…this 26 mile leg…and our feet were screaming and our legs were buckling…but we went for it…

And as we rounded the bend towards the finish, who do you think was there cheering? Margaret and Jill, our honorary big sisters…with signs in hand, giving out roses…Mary and Sam and Helen and Kim and ADP and Susan and Dana and Jodi all there too…and our teammates surrounded Kathy…all of us hugging and crying…We made it. The Jugheads all made it.

After our mini-celebration, we headed to the foot massage tent, exhaustion overtaking euphoria…and the only thing on my mind was....

Thirteen more miles tomorrow…Holy Mother of Jesus….

Coming soon…another very special episode...
Love you, Suz

PS Happy Birthday, TL....much love to you this weekend as you arrive at the "new 30"...xo

Photos

1. The traveling Team Jughead sign...the first sighting that morning at 5:45...

2. Peppy Helen, all chipper and fresh at mile 19 as we stragglers contemplate our options on the Manhattan Bridge....

3. Ok, it looks pretty in that shot...but notice the dumpster beneath...that's more like it....

4. My actual sightlines and vision as I cross the Manhattan Bridge...need beer...fast!

5. Kath with Margaret...Jughead cheering section and de facto Big Sis...

6. Kerri and Kathy...real sisters and BFF...

7. The Beard Sisters flank soul sister Helen and sisters-in-law Betsy and Ellen as we start out...

8. Susan, Wendy, Teri and Kath wrestle for the first beer two seconds in at 12th Street Ale House...

9. Jughead stragglers and 12 Street Ale House posse...viva Corona!

10. Me...looking beastly after 16 miles...but couldn't be happier....

11. Avon swiper/sweep bus...we gave them our bras, but not our bods...

12. Team Jughead greets us as we hit the finish line at Randall's Island, just under the gun...

13. Team Jughead after 26...rumpled, spent, euphoric...only 13 miles left...ouch....

Making Our Way Downtown...

There is so much to tell and convey and talk about, that I have to break this up into sections over a few days...because I know you, my friends...you love a diversion (who doesn't?) and then you will get behind in your work or laundry or Tivo-viewing and you'll blame me...so...

Let's just say this...I am 100% certain that I will not be able to squeeze my delicate little toes into those hot black-suede, 4-inch heeled, fuchsia-bowed Kate Spade slingbacks for at least another week...but if I learned nothing else this weekend at the Avon 2-day Walk for Breast Cancer, it was that my sacrifices pale in comparison...and blisters don't need chemo.

But I am getting ahead of myself...let's start at the beginning...a good place to start...

Day 1, Friday the 9th

On Friday afternoon, maybe an hour and a half out from our planned 2 p.m. departure, I was still unshowered and proud with my suitcase and clothes and makeup and shoes and new sneakers strewn about the bedroom as I sat in front of the computer emailing friends, checking Facebook and surfing dlisted.com or epicurious.com or tylerflorence.com (midday eye-candy...Mary told me this weekend that she met him once, and that he is an arrogant pr*ck...oh, even better!)...I know, am such a procrastinator...(another story...). So the doorbell chimes, penetrating my web surfing trance, reminding me that I still had tons of stuff to do...and there on the other side of the front door stands my girl, Kathy...our team inspiration and de facto Jughead leader...and she is there, taking time out of her day -- and for her this is one day after a treatment and one day before embarking on this 39 mile Walk. So...she is there to thank me for making her family dinner the night before....unbelievable, really, with all that is going on, she is remembering her manners too...speaks a lot to what Kathy is made of. Ok, so I will take a little credit for busting out a turkey dinner and sausage-leek stuffing and sweet potato puree and homemade cranberry sauce on a Wednesday afternoon (thankfully, sistergirlfriend Lisa handled the dessert...a lovely warm apple crisp...)...but I love to cook, I told Kathy over and over...this was fun for me, the endorphin rush when I make a meal for another person is so steady and strong, I can only imagine it must be like mainlining some illicit substance... So yes, I couldn't have been happier to do it...especially for her.

So Kath and I stand on the front steps and chit chat and talk about how excited we are for the weekend, to bond and spend time with great friends...and then Suse drives up and drops off my official "Jugheads" t-shirt that she had just picked up from Kathy minutes before, and then tells me she is off to an eyebrow wax...even though now, we are only an hour out from our planned departure time. So I remind her..."we said drinks at 4, so hop to it..." I bid farewell to both the girls and run upstairs to finish my weekend prep...and I do so, in record time. At 1:55 we pull out of the driveway, Rob as chauffeur, and swing around to grab Mary before we head back to retrieve Lisa and Suse (the Beard Sisters) at Suse's house. And leaving weepy kids, frazzled husbands and Suse's inlaws behind, we jammed the Volvo with 8 billion bags (only one belonging to me, I might add...) and were off. Of course Rob was secretly enjoying the girl-centric conversation on the way in...you know, how many pairs and what kind of undies did we pack...whether or not we waxed...should we hire a set of buff masseuses to soothe us post-Walk...? He couldn't have been happier to drop us at the door of The Shoreham on 55th...our home for the next 36 hours.

So we settle and unpack and ready for the night and, still waiting for Sam and Helen to make their appearance, we head out for cocktails...Suse and I enjoying a spiked apple cider laden with bourbon that made Suse whoop at the top of her lungs and my eyes to immediately fall into "hi, I'm baked" mode while the others sipped their chardonnay or cabernet or malbec or sauvignon blanc. And we all batted our eyes at the bartender and sampled the salty breadsticky/warm and cheesy bar snacks...and we promised him I would write all about it...a nice start to the weekend, right?

Well, even better...after finally catching up with Sam and Helen over at The Shoreham, we headed out to meet ADP and Jodi over at BLT Steak for the ceremonial weekend kickoff...8 Jugheads at one table in the dead center of the room...and we toasted and laughed and the chatting was non-stop. All eyes were upon us, this group of animated, peppy women...even in this bustling spot. We scarfed the goose liver pate and gruyere popovers to start and segued right into our steakhouse salads and Wagyu beef and short ribs and roasted halibut and crunchy hash browns and baby brussels sprouts and cheesy potato gratin...all washed down with the Atticus John Cabernet that I chose after the sommelier brought me a 3-wine blind tasting...and of course, this bottle was the most pricey of the three at $70...even in blind tastings I overspend. And then there was the sticky toffee pudding and the peanut butter chocolate mousse at the end...yum. So we had the best time, and none of us stopped talking or laughing at one another's stories...further bonding for the big undertaking that was ahead of us. A clean cut preppy man in a suit and tie came over from another table and offered to take a picture at the end of our meal, and though he had some trouble with my little digital point and shoot, he captured our exuberant delight to be there with one another...and when he was done, he said: "for you...from New Orleans to New York City..." and he bowed and walked off...a fitting end to our night. We hugged and kissed and said goodbye outside on 57th Street...promising to see each other, and the extended Jughead sisterhood, bright and early the next morning on 12th Avenue and 44th Street...at 5:45 a.m.....

Day 2, Saturday the 10th

I don't remember the alarm ringing, but I do remember Mary telling me that I talked in my sleep as I rose to partake of a shower at 5:15 that morning...and I admit I wondered if I shared anything incriminating as I slept, but she insisted I had not. And I remember the Beard Sisters packing tons of "what if" items in their backpacks...Band-aids, Aleve, Motrin, Flonase, Polysporin, Tums, ice packs, needle and thread...virtual walking first-aid kits. And Mary and I laughed that we were so completely unprepared for any snafu...both of us youngest children in families of 5...thank god Mrs. Beard raised dependable women and that they were our friends. So, all dressed in our pink Jugheads team shirts, Mary, the Beard Sisters and I met Helen and Sam in The Shoreham lobby and grabbed cabs to our meeting spot on 12th Avenue. And it was there that the Jugheads first congregated as a complete team...

So we hugged and cheered and posed and Kathy's best friend, PJ, brought along her sister, Margaret, and Margaret's wife, Jill...and they carried signs that morning that said "We Support Team Jughead"...and Margaret and Jill took pictures our team against that early morning sky, all of us happy and bright...26 miles ahead of us. But soon after we met, we began our Walk up the Westside, along the Hudson River. And this is the part of the Walk that is easy...I met Rob's sister, Megan...the same sister-in-law into whom I bumped at the JoBros concert back in July...and she walked with me and Sam those first two miles. And at each of those early rest stops, we Jugheads would re-group and find one another and snap some pictures and eat some pre-made pb&j on graham crackers and refill our water bottles...and on we walked...up the Westside, through Washington Heights and back down to Harlem and then in Riverside Park, where Margaret and Jill awaited us with cheers and signs...a welcome sight, a boost...so then it was the Upper Westside and then to Central Park where we stopped for the mass Walker lunch...this was 9 miles in and we all still felt great.

After lunch some of the group became separated from the rest of the pack as we headed passed Lincoln Center, down 9th Avenue through Hell's Kitchen...and it was at mile 13 where most of us met up again. This was our midway point, and as we rested and snacked and re-hydrated, an Avon Walk volunteer approached us and said: "Ladies, you have reached your mid-point, we have shuttles waiting to take you to Wellness Village if you are ending your Walk here." And we saw these giant buses and these Walkers getting on-board and we all looked at one another...and we looked at Kathy in her pink bandanna over her scalp...the only Walker we saw the entire weekend who was sporting the obvious signs of treatment...and she was there, still on the go...still walking...and not a one of us wanted to stop.

So we headed off to our second 13 miles...through Chelsea and down to the Village...and that is where we started to run into some trouble. The twisty Village streets, filled with tourists who were stopping in front of us, had us moving at a sluggish pace...and as the frustration set in I began to notice a burning in my right knee...and I ignored it. Along Bleecker Street, we began to lose some of the remaining group...Sam and Mary and Helen and Pina and Nancy and Chris and Dana and Susan M. were no longer in sight...Ellen and Betsy and the YMCA posse had been long gone, since mile 9...as had ADP and Jodi and Kim... and I was walking with my besties, the Beard Sisters, when we noticed in the window of a pizza place, that same "We Support Team Jughead" sign that Jill and Margaret had been carrying with them since we met this morning at 5:45 a.m....so we turned around and saw them across the street, on the southwest corner of Bleecker and MacDougal jumping and cheering and yelling: "Go Jugheads! Go!"....and soon Kathy and PJ and Kerri and Wendy and Teri and Kristen caught up with us at the pizza window and saw our cheering section and the sign...and our spirits were so lifted by their presence...I had tears dripping from my eyes, as they had been all day, so overwhelmed by the emotion of it all...this inexplicable teariness gripped me...but I began a full-on bawl as we walked further up Bleecker and found the other sign attached to a fire hydrant: "Kathy Rail Welch Your (sic) My Hero"...Jill and Margaret cheering us on some more...

We snaked through SoHo to Canal Street at a snail's pace...and our moods were iffy at best (even a little Duff Goldman/Ace of Cakes sighting only entertained us briefly...). It wasn't until we hit City Hall Plaza and mile 14 that my right knee and ankle had become a real problem...I was certain they were sprained, and Suse said she heard it pop while I walked. But the Beard Sisters were by my side, and I wasn't stopping...I didn't care what price I would pay later or what damage I was doing...we stayed the course and with Kathy, we crossed the Brooklyn Bridge, snapping pics along the way, dodging more tourists...me walking like Frankenstein or some amputee on this knee...trying to descend the steps once we hit Brooklyn, Wendy and Teri laughing their a**es off at me...and it was hilarious even though it hurt. You know...because we were laughing with each other...all of us felt the burn...Teri had these killer blisters and Wendy said her legs were practically numb and Lisa's foot was throbbing, so she began handing out Aleve as we trudged ahead...entranced...we still had 10 miles to go.

But there was Kathy...looking amazing...walking like a champ...not one complaint.

And then we reached the Manhattan Bridge...who knew this b*stard stepchild of the New York City bridges would hold within a critical point for Team Jughead....

...To Be Continued....

Friday Photos

1: The Goddess Herself...

2: Kathy and me, against the morning sky, pre-Walk...

3: A little sausage-leek stuffing about to be mixed...

4: Mary, Lisa and me amongst a small percentage of our luggage, pre-check-in at The Shoreham....

5: Spicy delicious bourbon on an Autumn Friday...what could be more fitting?

6: Sam, Helen and ADP taking in the scene at BLT Steak...

7: ADP, wine and fork in hand...about to attack the table full of tasty fat-laden treats...

8: (standing) Mary, me, Suse & Lisa (The Beard Sisters); (seated) Sam, Helen, ADP & Jodi...the pre-Walk dinner feast...

Saturday Photos

9: Sam, me, Mary, Lisa & Suse...all smiles at 5:30 a.m....

10: The Jugheads unite at the starting line...39 miles ahead of us...

11: A sea of Jugheads...

12: Dana at Mile 13...with aching feet and a busted knee, she joined the rest of us for 13 more...

13: Kathy and PJ...this Bleecker Street pizza joint loves Jugheads...

14: Suse, me and Lisa on the Brooklyn Bridge...swollen knees, exhaustion setting in and forced, pained smiles...but the best day ever...

15: That pink bandanna...the Jughead beacon of hope...Kath crosses the Brooklyn Bridge....

And In Our World of Plenty...

This week my friend RJP mentioned that during his visit to South Bend last weekend, as he enjoyed a pint or two or three in some little pub after OT and the final win by that team at that big giant school (Catholic Disneyland...), he heard the song: "All I Want for Christmas, Is You..." And he pondered a moment, posing the question:...Christmas in October? Too soon? Uh...yeah...I'd say so. Apparently though, the Holidays start earlier and earlier each year. I am as guilty as anyone...I have already asked Amber to pick a date for the Holiday Secrets & Lies/Cookies & Cocktails bash so that I could write it on my calendar and start working on my recipe. And, you know, I am fully aware that we haven't even made it to Halloween and The Knolls neighborhood Snack-o-Lantern trick-or-treat extravaganza...you know, where we parents park our a**es around the cooler, throw back a few Sam Adams' Octoberfest lagers and spooky treats; or troll the streets delighting in some chardonnay hidden inside a keg cup while our costumed children run wild down Martom and across Village and back around Pathway Manor and up Sunset collecting gobs and gobs of candy that I will eventually toss so that I cease to ingest even one more Mr. Goodbar or Reese's Peanut Butter Cup or Baby Ruth (ever notice that no one eats Baby Ruth ever any other time of year...no one ever hits Krauzers or the Deli Mart for one of those...nah, we all go right for the Snickers and the Butterfinger and the Kit Kats...but at Halloween those bad boys come out of hiding and everyone is clamoring for them...it's true, watch your friends this year when a Baby Ruth pops up in the candy bowl...usually two grown men end up wrestling for it...). Ahh...Halloween in The Knolls...now that is a fine celebration...

But I digress....back to The Holidays...

...when RJP posed his question, I began to think back to the songs that signify the coming of the season to me. Of course there is the Love Actually soundtrack (oh...ouch...love, loss, pain and true love coming to find you and bring you home on Christmas Eve...forget the soundtrack, I need to get that DVD back in rotation asap...). And anyway, you know, I am not one to listen to those December "all Christmas, all the time" radio programming

stunts...in fact, hearing Burl Ives (Have a holly jolly Christmas!) blasting at 7 a.m. as I defrost the little blue Jag's windshield would put me in an even fouler mood than the chilly wind and

grey skies possibly could... So I usually stick to mixed CD's from All Saints Day on through New Year's Day/Ellie's Birthday...

But...ok...I will admit it...there is one classic Christmas tune that just stops me dead in my tracks and lifts my Holiday spirits

exponentially...all while bringing me back to the great socially conscious Holiday heyday of my youth...the mid-80's.... Yes, kids...I think you know where I am going with this....you know from the minute the first chime rings...and then, the deeply sincere lines sung by this odd conglomeration of British male vocalists...all leading up to the pinnacle....

"And tonight thank god it's them, instead of yooooooouuuu....!!!!"

Yay! Yay! Yay, Bono and that signature verse...rocking it out with Band Aid and Ethiopian famine relief. Yay!!! And I hear it and there we are, back in '84 and of course then I know...we all know...It's Christmastime (at all)!!!

Oh...don't even try to tell me that "Do They Know It's Christmas?" doesn't kick some serious a**...holidays or not. So...I hit youtube.com right away and found the video and I watched it over and over and over. And I realized in my viewing that this year is in fact the 25th anniversary of the song's recording and release...can it be?? Can the '80's be that far behind us? So then my jealous and possessive six year old (who told me this past Friday, after I enjoyed some Cabernet in front of ADP's new outdoor fireplace, that I smelled like an omelet...or

something else delicious to eat. I

mean...the kid just owns my heart...I want

nothing more than to be delicious...my life's goal)...anyway, he asked me all about the scraggly '80's artists and why they were singing all together and who they were and where were they now...and as I played the

song over and over again for Will, I named all these Brits -- a percentage of which, by the way, my friend John pointed out, subsequently either served time for false imprisonment (hey Boy George) or lewd and lascivious behavior (talking to you George Michael) or have been addicted to H or crank or something equally low rent and dirty...I left that info out as I recounted the mission of Band Aid to my son. But back then, back in '84, this posse of London/sort of poppy/Euro/New Wave artists all had it going on...you know, there was Paul Young (did he have any other hits? who was he?) on lead vocal and then Simon LeBon and Sting and Phil Collins and Bob Geldof and Banana-effin-rama and the other

Duran Duran guys and damn, if it wasn't that dude

from Spandau Ballet...(This much is true-hoo-hoo...). And it was all kind of scrappy and shoestring and kind of thrown together...and somehow the pride of Hackensack, Kool & the Gang, were included, which always lifts the elegance factor...but it was so genuine and these artists seemed to believe in what they were doing....believed their efforts would save African children. And they became models of rock 'n roll benevolence and activism and philanthropic gestures packaged in combat boots and tranny pink lipstick and orange mohawks. How beautiful.

Ok...so then...inadvertently..."Do they Know It's Christmas?" and Band Aid became the model for and distant older cousin to USA for Africa...and as we winced a little through the glossy, highly produced and bloated copycat American version, "We Are The World"...with it's big Stateside superstars and fancy studio and legendary producer and those vocal gymnastics by

Stevie Wonder and then there's that part with Bruce...and his voice is amazing, but in the video he kind of reminds me a little of Dirk Diggler, if you know what I mean...go look at the video and then tell me I am wrong. But Steve Perry (Oooohhhh...there's a choice we're making, we're saving our own liiiiiives...) -- genius...genius as always. Now talk about a

flashback...when I hit youtube to view that little gem I felt like I was looking at footage of some hidden wax museum filled with '80's relics...Kim Carnes? James Ingram? Kenny Loggins? Huey Lewis? Jeffrey Osborne (On the Wings of Love...!!)? And wtf with Dan Akyroyd in the chorus scenes? But you know...regardless of the quasi-questionable cache of timeless talent and star power, the message was still a good

one...even if USA was a little late to the party -- scamming off Bob Geldof's genuine, spontaneous altruism -- "We Are The World" was still a beautiful gesture too.

And so you know, I kind of tuned out once the whole thing took off like wildfire and they decided to produce that big Live Aid concert...you know, that simultaneous trans-Atlantic concert with acts like Elvis Costello, Tears for Fears, U2, Queen, David Bowie, The Who, Elton John with Wham! (Holy Mother, that is some sort of gay paradise right there...) and of course, the great icon, Rick Springfield with his perennial obsessive

stalker, girlfriend-stealing classic, "Jessie's Girl." And Madonna was new on the scene, so her performance was all the rage... and in a publicity stunt like no other before in history, Phil Collins performed live in London and then flew on the Concorde to the US and performed live on drums with Led Zeppelin in Philadelphia as well...80's excess rules! All that extra bling and sparkle was a little lost on me....for me, it was always the original scruffy London production, that Bob Geldof brainchild, that was close to my heart.

So in watching the Band Aid video now, as an adult, I felt like I

was peeking inside this little bubble, this little petri dish that held in isolation a brief moment in time. The moment that we -- my Gen X brothers and sisters, I mean --the moment that we became socially aware...the moment that we realized our pop idols had brains and hearts and the need to use their gifts and talents to do good too. So, I can see why the song still makes me all tingly inside when I hear those opening chimes...it's the onslaught of the

true Christmas spirit...the joy of giving and the goodness it brings.

So, with that in mind...even though it isn't even Halloween yet, keep that Christmas spirit in your heart and remember me and

my girlfriends this weekend...walking 40 miles, the

lot of us...the Jugheads...and think of our girl Kathy (who deserves her own star-studded video song, I might add...) whom we support in our weekend away with the girls....walking, talking, chatting...maybe a white wine lunch worked in along the route...(please? can we?). Keep us in your thoughts and pray that the weekend is dry and sunny and there are no twisted ankles or pulled hamstrings or creaky glutes (that'll be my cross to bear, no doubt...)....and that the experience is all that we hope for.

xo, my loves....S

Photo 1: Halloween at Christmas? Christmas before Halloween...whatever, as long as there is candy and gifts!

Photo 2: Oh...maybe that's why grown men fight over the elusive Baby Ruth...salty, sweet, yummy and x-rated...

Photo 3: She said I'm cuuuute!

Photo 4: Sting, Bono and Simon LeBon: "and the Christmas bells that ring there are the clanging chimes of doom..."

Photo 5: Feed the World!

Photo 6: Caught in the act of something lewd, lascivious or illegal...miss the old you, George...

Photo 7: USA for Africa shows those bedraggled Brits how to gloss it up...

Photo 8 - 11: 1. Latzy, Kathy, Lisa, Chris; 2. Mary, Susan, Wendy; 3. Dana, Sam; 4. Helen, Me and Pina....Adults, Gen Xers, Best Friends and Jugheads in various states of joy and excitement pre-Walk....Stay tuned for Walk coverage next week...betting the photos won't be quite as pretty....