I had done a three-day-cancer walk in the past, and 6K one in Central Park, so this I thought, should be relatively easy.

The walk was on a Sunday. It was the 12th annual support-a-walk put on by Support Connection, a group that has been around since 1996 that provides services to thousands of women and their families affected by breast and ovarian cancer. They offer peer counseling, a 24-hour hot line, wellness programs, educational materials, retreats, newsletters, a resource library and of course they have a website www.supportconnection.org.

The walk was to take place, rain or shine at Franklin D. Roosevelt State Park. The starting time was 10 a.m. with 9 a.m. pre-walk activities. Being new to the neighborhood I had no clue how to get to the park, so Theresa arranged for all of us to meet at Curves and convoy to the park.

On the morning of, I was pretty tired. I had done stand-up the night before in Doylestown, PA at the Comedy Cabaret and got home at 3:30 a.m. So naturally when my alarm rang at 7:30 a.m. I was cursing myself for forgetting to turn it off on a Sunday, and then I realized..."Oh my goodness, the walk!" I hopped out of bed and quickly got dressed. Wanda who lives downstairs heard me scurrying about.

In ten minutes flat I was dressed and outside. That’s when it hit me, a splash of water from my roof. Drats… it was raining. Why is it that every time I’ve done a breast cancer walk it always rains? Who knows, maybe it’s God’s tears and he’s sympathizing.

I ran back inside and donned my "Africa coat", the bright red rain jacket I used to summit Kilimanjaro. Now properly geared, I walked to the car. Wanda was nice enough to drive.

We got to the Curves and Teresa was handing out our T-shirts. There were seven of us gathered. Not counting myself, there was Theresa, Wanda, Margaret, Irene, Dawn, another Dawn and her dog, Cocoa. We all thought that Cocoa should be our mascot, so Dawn put a shirt on the dog.

Now all decked out in our walking T-shirts we headed over to the park. At the park we were guided to parking lot four. We hopped on a bus and were taken to the tent areas were the activities were to commence. Everyone was huddled together because of the rain.

But despite the rain everyone that was there, was in good spirits. Unfortunately there were only about 2,000 people on hand, 7,000 had signed up. The organization last year raised $205,000. They were hoping on $210,000 this year, but the weather deterred many. Hopefully those absentees will still send in their pledges and if people complain they didn’t walk-heck have them walk around the block on a sunny day a few times to legitimately collect the money. Maybe even do a tap dance on their lawn.

Anyway, the sponsors were out in force; everything from banks to real estate to gyms to TV stations to supermarkets and union workers etc. One company even went so far as to paint not only one, but four of their gas trucks pink and donate a portion of their proceeds from every gallon to breast cancer research. One driver told me, "You know, that truck gets the message out about breast cancer year round. Sure I took some ribbing from fellow truck drivers at first, but now I get honks from tons of women and a bra or two tossed my way". Then he winked. Not sure if that bra tossing part is true, but if it is, I’m sure it’s a benefit he doesn’t mind.

After looking around a bit, we located the photo tent and all posed in our pretty T-shirts to take a Curves team photo.

We mulled around a bit, eating some bagels from the food stands. Making the most of the event, I spotted the local radio station, WHUD, and went over to introduce myself to the DJ Mike Bennett who was the breast cancer host for the day.

As we all stood around, waiting for the race to begin, many of us stayed underneath the concession stand umbrellas. It was then at that moment that the enormity of the event hit me. I was talking to Wanda and glanced over at two people sitting with their backs to me. They had signs on that read; "I walk in celebration for my sister", "I walk in celebration for myself." I looked up and saw a guy in front of them, "I walk in celebration for my wife." All of a sudden I got a lump in my throat. To these people it was more than a walk to help future generations; it was a testament to their survival.

I turned to a table near me and picked up a brochure that had some facts in it about breast cancer. "Breast cancer is the most common cause of cancer in women in the U.S. It’s estimated that 211,240 women will be diagnosed with cancer this year and 40,410 will die from the disease. Finding breast cancer at an early stage greatly improves the chances of successful treatment… which includes getting a mammogram, a clinical breast exam and a monthly self-breast exam." (Heck if you are scared to do it yourself let your husband go to town and give you the exam… but the point is - get it done. Ignorance is not bliss.)

I turned to Irene whose car keys I happened to be carrying in my Africa coat.
"Did you know all these facts?"
"Yeah, I had breast cancer myself. I was lucky; they removed the lump in my breast, took fat cells from my bottom and filled out my boob. Those Twinkies paid off for something." I smiled at her humor.
Irene continued, "You know, I’m not the only one, Margaret had it and so did Teresa."
"Oh my gosh. I had no idea. This really is a special day then."

I looked around at the sea of pink with all the women gathered. Survivors, supporters, standing side by side, it was awesome. The strange thing was that the air was not one of sorrow, but one of empowerment. People were empowered by walking… because they were doing something to raise money, awareness and combat this disease – and because they survived and they could.

My thoughts were abruptly interrupted by the perky pre-walk exercise lady who came over the loud speaker. "Okay, ladies it’s time to get your bodies moving." For the next ten minutes to the tune of "It’s Raining Men" and "Raindrops Keep Falling on my Head" she got us all doing jumping jacks, leg kicks and some stretches. I half-expected at any moment someone would belt out, "I am woman hear me roar."

After we were sufficiently warmed up we made our way over to the balloon arch, starting point. People of all shapes and sizes, ages and races were gathered, which makes sense, since we woman do all have our breasts in common… and then again so do some of the men.

At the sound of the bell we were off. At first, as with most of these walks, everyone is piled together barely walking because of the size of the crowd.

As people pick up their pace, spaces start to open up. We started as one big Putnam Sisters Curves group, but then somehow we got separated. Wanda, Irene and I became a walking team, while the rest of the team kept pace with the dog.

Through the puddles, past the woods, around the other teams we walked. Up the hills, past some trails and over more puddles we continued. Talking and joking all the way. At one point amidst my breast bouncing up and down in my sports bra, Wanda said, "When was the last time you had a mammogram?" I looked down at my breasts as if waiting for them to answer… then mumbled, "Hmmm, I think about four years ago." "What! Girl we need to go."

I think I heard my left breast wince. Just the thought of my breasts being squished into pancakes in that viselike device (which I’m sure some guy invented) made me feel sore. But then I remembered that brochure, "If caught at an early stage…" I decided she was right, "better to have them squished like Play Dough, than to have nothing to squish at all." I made a note to make an appointment. While I was at it, I might as well make an appointment to see the horse stirrups lady as well.

We continued to walk, with the back of our pants getting increasingly wet. But we didn’t’ care, our breasts were enjoying the attention. We were here for a purpose. As we walked we were amused by some of the banners. One in particular stood out, the Pink Brassieres team, complete with a huge pink bra filled to the brim that would have made Dolly Parton sit up and take notice.

At our steady pace we finished in 28 minutes. At the end of the line we were given a goody bag.

We hung around and waited for the rest of the team; Teresa, Dawn, Dawn and four-legged Cocoa (Margaret had to leave). Teresa was looking very proud, as she should. She had just come out of surgery a few weeks ago and she finished the three miles. It was a nice milestone for her.

As we walked back to our car (which was another journey in itself) I asked Teresa, "So what’s next on the agenda at Curves?"
"Oh, I’m thinking of having a bra fitting clinic."
"Really?"
"Yeah, I figured we’d stick with the theme of boobs for the month. Plus it might be good to find out what size I really am."

Once again I looked down at my breasts. This time the right one yelled, "I think I’m at 38 double D." The left countered, "Yeah, in your dreams". I figured to end the bickering, I’d have to go and have them measured. Then once that’s done and they are nice and comfy, I’d take them to be squished, handled and photographed. I guess they must have heard me because they both shut up.

I then whispered to them…"Don’t worry girls, after this walk, and learning what I know, I won’t be taking you for granted any more."

Wanda looked at me strange, "Are you talking to your breasts?"
"Yeah… I know it’s a little strange, but I just realized how special they really are.
"Wanda looked around to make sure no one was looking, and then looked down at her chest, "You know you’re right. We need to celebrate." And with that we both went to the supermarket and bought a box of cupcakes. Hey a girl’s got to live! Besides, there’s always Curves tomorrow.