the brownies were filled with such
ooey gooey chocolatey goodness that i really had to convince myself that two were not a good idea, despite the voice in my head that kept saying i should have another because i’d just walked 26.2 miles. 26.2 miles, people! a marathon of all day walking. it was a huge accomplishment. and yet, somehow, i had managed not to poop all day. all day with all that drinking and walking and eating. seriously, about halfway through the day S and i started checking in with each other after every trip to the
handy house—“anything?” “nope, not yet.” “yeah, me either.” it was bad.
after dinner we meandered back to the tent feeling full, but cold. the temperature was dropping at a rather alarming rate. or at least it seemed like it was. the lines at the shower trucks were much too long—we simply weren’t capable of standing in line for a shower at that point. so we unpacked and blew up our air mattresses, which, thank *god* for the air mattresses. interestingly, the conversations around us began to take a pointed turn. pooping, it seems, wasn’t just our problem. at least we could take comfort in knowing that we weren’t alone, right?
after we’d decorated the interior of the tent with air mattresses, sleeping bags, and the random contents of our duffel bags we decided we’d make one last trip to the row of handy houses that were standing handily nearby. no handy house hobnobbers, we chose two that were separated by several others and…ahem…settled in.
the next thing i hear is an english woman muttering something in the stall next to me. “good god! S, is that you?!” i shouted. “oh my god, is that you?!” she half yelled, half whispered back. “what are you doing there?! i thought you were several doors down! this isn’t right!” gasping for air between bouts of giggling she admitted that the one she’d chosen was “horrible! and ohmigod, there’s a wind under me! bloody hell!” we chatted back and forth for a bit and then she retired to the tent. i remained in the handy house, determined not to leave without results.
when i finally got back to the tent S was reclining on her air mattress. i fumbled my way in and landed on my air mattress, which suddenly seemed a bit mushy. S asked how things went. my reply? “let’s just put it this way. i think i tore myself a new asshole because the first one just wasn’t working!” peals of laughter.
and then? 10 o’clock. lights out. poof! the big spotlights were shut off and we were plunged into semi darkness, our tent lit only by our little penlights. and it was at that point i realized, with horror, that the air mattress i was sitting on had lost some serious air. i began to panic. what if i had to sleep on the hard, cold ground after all that walking. i knew i’d wake up stiff and kinked up. we began looking for the leak in earnest and were relieved to find that the valve had simply popped open. i had to blow it back up with my whirring battery-powered pump after lights out and was terrified that some big beefy angry walker would come beat the living daylights out of me for being too noisy. so i kept muttering apologies to no one in particular as we tried again and again to get it fully inflated without losing all the air as we closed the valve. in the end, we were successful and no one beat me to smithereens. in fact, there were several people snoring around us by the time i got settled in my sleeping bag.
and since we’re on the subject, let me just say that the mummy bag, while quite warm, is not so comfy if you want to spread out and toss and turn a bit. it is, in fact, somewhat claustrophobic. i mean, i was claustrophobic in it. it was a bit caterpillar-in-chrysalis feeling. and i was no butterfly in the morning, i can assure you.
i guess it was about 10:30 when we finally settled in to sleep. there was lots of snoring around us. the tents were literally installed cheek by jowl—it was hard to avoid hearing every little squirm and whisper. eventually, i guess, we fell asleep. i have no idea how long i slept, but i was suddenly awake, hearing zippers zipping and unzipping. i kept thinking, “what the hell is up with S and her zippers!” i moved around and then i heard the most piteous cry from the opposite corner of our tent: “is it mooooorning yet?” it was S. i burst into fits of laughter. it was 4:30am. i started coughing. “i think i have pneumonia.” more laughing. “and i’m sweaty on my legs and frozen on my head and shoulders,” still more laughing. we were rapidly losing control.
S regaled me with the story of how she’d arisen in the night with only her tiny flashlight to guide her to the handy house. she was brave, my S! i assured her that i’d have rather pissed the mummy bag than get up in the middle of the cold night to trudge through the mud in search of a handy house. thank god i wasn’t faced with that.
we got ourselves up and out for breakfast and coffee (tea for the englishwoman) in short order. today we would be among the first to leave (and henceforth arrive at the other end, right?). we thought we could leave at 6:30. after breakfast we packed our bags, took down the tent (even though the night before S had very strongly said, “i am *not* taking down this bloody tent in the morning. i don’t care if we are supposed to do that, i’m just not doing it!”), made a final pit stop, and headed for the front gate. which was locked. and would remain locked until 7:30. more coffee/tea and general hanging about and then finally, finally we were on our way for the second leg, this time only 13.1 miles.
truth be told i don’t remember much about the first seven miles of that day. i suspect S and i were too focused on seeing our families at the end to talk about much early on. i do remember feeling like we were walking at a good pace, like we would surely fly through these 13.1 miles. i mean, after the previous day’s walk this would be cake, and i had given S some new socks, just like the ones i was wearing, that would wick away moisture and help keep her from getting blisters. i had been surprised to find at the end of the first day that i had not one single blister on my feet. they were sore, but i was in good shape on the blister front. naturally i attributed that to the socks.
a few miles into the walk S said that her feet were itchy. something in the socks was giving her a rash. she spotted some of the “men with heart” up front (they carry supplies and chocolate) and suddenly dashed off—and by this i mean she *ran* to see if they had any socks. they did not. but a kind soul who’d overheard her conversation with the MWH offered her a clean pair from her own stash. unfortunately they were the same exact socks that had been making S itch. we trudged on in spite of S’s itchy feet, and figured we’d ask at the next rest stop or make a stop in a pharmacy if we passed one. for some reason, on that leg of the trip there were no pharmacies. not one.
and there was an EnOrMoUs hill in charlestown that just didn’t seem fair. especially with the itching feet and all. S trit-trotted up to the first aid tent and got herself in line to be seen by a medic. another kindly soul gave S a new pair of cotton socks. i sat down for a snack. by the time i got back to S at the first aid tent her feet were being slathered with anti-itch cream and wrapped in some kind of gauzy stuff. with her new socks on and a bottle full of gatorade she was ready to get going again. we’d fallen behind with that stop, but neither of us cared much. we knew we’d get there eventually.
i have to admit that there were two times before the 10-mile lunch stop that i honestly wondered if i’d have the stamina to make it all the way. briefly. there was a part of me that wanted to skip lunch and trudge on for those last three miles and just get to the end. we opted to sit down and eat instead, and it was a good thing we did (except for the part where i sat on very wet grass and ended up with a very wet ass), because we were able to walk that last three miles in good shape. things were going along so well that we even had the chance to stop for a “speed dump” (as S put it) before going the last two miles. (and you’re right, S, i can’t drive over a speed bump without thinking about that now.)
one mile from the finish we ran into a couple of women we’d met earlier. one of them was a breast cancer survivor. the other, her friend. they’d walked 13.1 miles the first day and wisely spent the evening in a hotel, but not before they’d taken the opportunity to go see a movie first. they had beer. and hot showers. and they were in much better spirits than we were. they made us laugh until our faces hurt. their presence carried us to the finish line in more ways than one (and i’m still mad that i lost track of them at the end and didn’t get their names and numbers).
when we rounded the last corner S’s family was waiting for her. i kept walking, looking for my father, J, and the boy. (the girl was home with my mom.) they were nowhere in sight. i waited for S to catch up because i really thought we should cross the finish line together since we did it together. about a half mile later i spotted my family. J was holding a bouquet of a dozen dark pink roses. the boy hugged my legs and talked to his friends (S’s kids). we took our children’s hands and walked together across the finish line where people were clapping and yelling out “great job mom!” and women were crying and hugging each other because goddammit they had done this thing.
our feet were swollen and blistered but our hearts were soaring.
and that, my friends, is why people do it again and again. and it’s why i’m doing it again next year. hopefully with S and my mom. there will be hotel rooms involved next year, though. without a doubt.
