Walk to Fight Breast Cancer Is an Emotional Journey

On Oct. 23-25, Deborah Kattler Kupetz of Los Angeles, 37, was one of 2,300 people who walked--yes, walked--from Santa Barbara to Malibu to raise money for breast cancer awareness and early-detection programs. The first Avon Breast Cancer 3-Day raised $5 million. The monies are distributed through Avon’s Breast Health Access Fund and administered by the National Alliance of Breast Cancer Organizations.

Here is Deborah’s story of how a walker who admittedly wasn’t in the “greatest shape” a few months before the walk was inspired to go the distance, how she pushed on when she didn’t think she could and how the experience has changed her.

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I have three daughters (5-year-old twins and a 3-year-old), work like a fiend and am over-involved. Taking time off for a three-day walk to fight breast cancer--a battle for which I had no personal relationship--seemed the furthest thing from my mind. When my cousin Eilean signed up and then my sister Elizabeth, I became aware of the event.

I didn’t realize at the time that breast cancer is the most common form of cancer in women in the U.S. My final impetus came from talking to my friend Bob, who had gone on the California AIDS Ride in June from San Francisco to Los Angeles. He said it was “transformational, amazing and unlike anything” he had been involved with before. I signed up in July.

I trained on my own at first, pushing myself to 10 miles. The previous eight months, my exercising had been sporadic, at best. So I wasn’t in my greatest shape. Then I hooked up with a group that was training for the walk, the Divine Walkers, led by a breast-cancer survivor. My first walk with them was 25 miles!

Day 0

At Chase Palm Park in Santa Barbara, we checked in, turned in late pledges, watched a safety video and received our tent assignments (a mobile tent city would be our homes each night). The video set the tone for the event. This was serious stuff: We needed to be alert, to feel great about what we had gone through to get to this point. People have died at events like these.

The safety video was about something else too, about kindness, about if people stopped trying so hard to get ahead, no one would be left behind. The 3-Day wasn’t a race. We were all going to do it, and we could help each other do it.

Day 1

The first day was a blast. It started with moving opening ceremonies before dawn. Leaving Santa Barbara, we walked by beautiful homes and saw dolphins in the ocean.

Part of the reason the experience was so incredible was that I didn’t see it coming. I didn’t see that behind every person I would talk to would be an amazing story. That the atmosphere would induce such honesty and cooperation. This self-selected group of 2,300 was truly special, as was the support crew of some 600.

I walked with and met many people, all doing the walk for a variety of reasons--in honor of someone, in memory of someone, to support someone.

I met a woman, 28, who had found a lump in her breast last year and had a mammogram, but it was cloudy so the results couldn’t be determined. At that point, she was unemployed and had no insurance.

As she waited with her father to find out the results of a second mammogram, they saw another woman who was about her age and an obvious breast cancer survivor. Her father grabbed her and started to cry. Fortunately, her doctor determined she had only fibroid cysts. Because of that, she said, she knew what it was like to face the possibility of cancer without insurance and that’s why she felt she had to do the walk.

This first day, we walked some 18 miles. It was wonderful and long and tiring, but there was no whining and complaining. Still, I was really looking forward to my one-time, 15-minute massage. There were medical, physical therapy, chiropractic and massage services at the campsite each day. The chiropractic services saved me

Day 2

Even though it was the shortest day (“only” 14 miles), I hit that moment when I thought: This isn’t worth it. What am I doing here? The shower trailer seemed a million miles away. I could focus only on how bad I felt. The encouraging signs around camp that had inspired me only the day before seemed annoying now. “What was the kindest thing you did for someone else today?” “What is the thing that keeps you from quitting?”

I limped to the chiropractic tent and met with the doctor in charge of the 18 chiropractors there. She did a deep massage of my legs and stretched them; she twisted me and crack, crack, did all sorts of adjustments. It was amazing how much better I felt. I wanted to kiss her I was so grateful. I was back in the game.

I want to say two words about the walk: Gatorade and chiropractors, two of the best things in life.

I’d also like to say something about early detection. What early detection meant to me was running into a woman at dinner the second night, a woman I hadn’t seen in 23 years. Two years ago, at exactly my age, she was diagnosed with an aggressive form of breast cancer. She detailed her year of chemo and radiation; after exploring her options and meeting with specialists in different disciplines, the woman led the creation of a nontraditional, interdisciplinary approach to treat her cancer.

Listening to her, I felt as if I were looking at myself. I was scared and overwhelmed, and realized I was crying. At that moment I was proud I had helped raise money for breast-cancer programs, especially early-detection ones.

Day 3

Then it was the last day--about 25 miles. The entire day was great. The feeling of activism fueled the walking. A florist whose wife died of breast cancer was giving out flowers at one stop. The whole walk was like a combination of Woodstock, a Grateful Dead concert, the Lilith Fair, the Girl Scout cookie drive and a 10K event. After lunch, I stopped in the chiropractic tent again for relief--the last six miles were hard. I’m not sure I would have made it if I hadn’t stopped again at the tent.

What I learned from the walk was that even though I wasn’t personally affected by breast cancer, I could and should be more proactive about breast cancer and my health. The experience certainly changed me. I’m stronger than I thought. If you think it, you often can really do it.

My feet did wonderfully. One thing that really helped was slathering my feet in Vaseline (thank you, Eilean).

Finishing was great, but it was not more exceptional than any other point of the event. However, I was glad to be done, and in those moments I really did want to be home immediately, now.

My husband and daughters were there to see all of us walk in together. I was tired and I really wanted to see them. When we finally were presented to the waiting, cheering crowd, I saw my family and we all cried.

The day after, one of my daughters asked me to tell them again about the circle of walkers at the closing ceremonies (breast cancer survivors who walked around imaginary people, those who hadn’t survived). Then another daughter asked if I had walked enough so the breast cancer wouldn’t come back.

A week later, the experience continues to resonate.