In the next five days, we must pack up eight months of apartment living in the city all while wrangling normal life, activities and the dreaded commuting. Then we must unpack ten years of life into our newly remodeled house. All of this would be wonderful and I would be a tad bit less stressed out if I weren't participating in the 3Day Walk for the Cure. I am so very proud of myself for being part of this huge event to help raise awareness and money for the Susan G. Koman foundation.
To review: I will be walking (yes me...) 60 miles in 3 days and camping out (yes me...) on Treasure Island for two nights. I have to purchase 9 million dollars of equipment for the walk and the camping. This, I have not yet done. Tomorrow, I will spend the day with the kids at Target, Sports Basement and Big 5 trying to find a way to fit 3 days and two nights of walking/camping equipment in a bag that weighs no more than 35 lbs. Oh yeah, I need a bag too. As with everything dealing with this walk, I have left it all to the end.
I should have done my fundraising sooner. I needed to start training earlier. I could have scheduled better. But it is what it is. I am training. Today I walked 9.4 miles with a friend. Friends are stepping up and donating quickly. But I still need to raise more money. I am $774 short of my goal and I have seven days to get there. If you are reading this, and you haven't yet donated, please take the time to donate anything you can. If you can't, but you live in the SF area, come cheer on my team, and all the walkers! Before next Friday, I will post the cheering section locations throughout San Francisco, Oakland and Marin.
My mood isn't the best, and even though I tried to put on my big girl panties and face the day, I am having a hard time. In so many ways, I am ashamed of this. Right this very second, a very dear person in my life is lying in the hospital recovering from major surgery. His family and friends are surrounding him with love and kisses as he struggles to recover and move onto the next step of his experience. He is a survivor and is fighting the battle of his life. I can see him flirting with the nurses. I picture him getting grumpy because he can't get up and walk out the front door to get home and mess around on his laptop. I imagine the physical pain he is experiencing and the psychological struggle of everyone to be positive and upbeat. I cry that I can't be there to hold his hand and tell him how proud of him I am. Instead I am at home bemoaning everything I have to do. It is sad and I am off to look in the mirror and give myself a really long lecture.
Two weeks from tomorrow, I will be home. I will be settling into a schedule and a "normal" life. My children will be back in their neighborhood. Commutes will be a thing of the past. I can make plans for the afternoons and not worry about traffic.
Two weeks from tomorrow, the very dear person in my life will be figuring out the next steps he has to take to make sure he is around for everyone to love for a long time.
Perspective, it is time for me to have some.
PS: Today, someone congratulated me on my pregnancy. Someone I KNOW! It has been a banner day!
PPS: I am not pregnant, but please please donate to my walk if you can!