We had planned this for a month, our team of Federal retirees; fundraising, online, offline any way we could. I had many pink wardrobe accents: gloves, vest, crocs, socks, and bracelet.
We were doing the Making Strides against Breast Cancer Walk at Jones Beach, Long Island on Sunday, October 18, 2009. In my fantasy, I would be yanked from the walk by a Newsday interviewer and asked my reason for participating. My story "I am walking for my niece, Liz Nikol, a Survivor." 
I go on to add "and of course for all men and women and all cancers." Only a Leo would have such a grandiose, global and humble mission statement. I dreamed that Anderson Cooper rides by on his bike 
and stops for a special CNN interview with me."Are you serious, you all ask?" Not really, but New York is chock full of possibilities.
As the week prior to the walk began, some dire forecasts also began. Not one, but two nor'easters were predicted. The second arriving right around the time of the Sunday morning walk. I found it challenging to think of persevering through a storm, but Paul harbored thoughts of us being sucked from the boardwalk in tornadic winds and tsunami like waves. Any mention of coastal flooding introduced high levels of anxiety into our home. As I continued to accrue donations, Paul monitored the weather activities on the TV, radio, newspapers, and the Internet. Whenever I logged on to our PC, the weather channel popped up. Bookmarked and shortcutted on our desktop.
We awake early Sunday to wind and rain. Liam looks from one parent
to the other-where are they going, 
why so early, can I come? we load the car with slickers, blankets, water, the NY Times (in case we were stuck, we needed reading material) I choose to wear my North Face jacket, many pockets, so many in fact, a map of where they are comes with the jacket.We set out. I announce that the weather is not so bad. A dangerous comment, as Paul is not eager for this adventure. I keep my rising feeling of exhilaration to myself. Walking in a near nor'easter with like minded folks in a united cause is exciting to me. As we near Jones Beach, the traffic slows. Thousands are crossing the parkway, stopping traffic, arms linked, chanting slogans and names of loved ones. The storm seems to rev up its velocity, picking up energy from the crowd, the throbbing sky and the peaking waves . My eyes fill with tears. I love this! We wait to turn into Parking Field Five. I connect with our NEPSC team via cell, meet at the rendezvous place. Our Captain asks "Ready?" Silent assent. We set out on our walk.
The conditions are fierce. Wind, sideways rain, floods on the boardwalk, the sea and sky the same color grey.
People are wrapped in pink blankets sodden and heavy with water
storm from Newsday
Others are wrapped in plastic. A few defiantly wear shorts absurdly paired with slickers and scarves. Many pairs of Uggs will never regain their shape. See Liam on the left in the next photo. He made it! 
The total walk is five miles and at the halfway mark a wall serves as the turnaround point. On this wall, walkers have placed photos of loved ones, signs, slogans, names of those lost and those surviving, hats, pins-water cascades over and through all these mementos- the wall evocative of those that sprung up after 9/11. We touch the wall, tap it reverently, pause to reflect, then twirl around to begin the second half. We are slapped with a lacerating wind, pebbled with hard rain. I need goggles. My face is under water. I had applied mascara, eye shadow-even darkened my eyebrows for my hoped for Newsday interview. What was I thinking? All my makeup is gone.
I put on my sunglasses to shield my eyes from the elements, causing many smiles as I walk.
The crowd surges forward as if it were a sunny dry day. I know I am soaked through my jacket, my arms feel heavy, as if weights are attached.
Our team joins in the collective crowd cheer echoing through the underpass as we emerge from under the parkway and head to the finish.
We did it.
I find my way back to the car. My crocs are making squishing noises, with each step water gushes out of each one, the weight of my waterlogged clothes make it feel as if I have a backpack and two suitcases to carry. If I squeezed my jacket, I probably could have filled a bucket with water.
I find the "H' section and our car-my hands frozen into locked position
Paul has gallantly been my driver and has been waiting patiently while we walked. He says that he has called me about 20 times, concerned that I had been the victim of coastal flooding. Too much weather channel. I had my blackberry tucked away, protected in a zip lock bag, impervious to any incoming calls.I was in a surreal, almost spiritual mental state and not ready to return to the world of expected required explanations.
I feel euphoric from the palpable passion and shared mission of the day.
I walked for a Survivor
and I survived some weather. I have earned immunity. No idol necessary.No chores this day, I read the NY Times and drink some red wine, relive the Yankees win the night before
watch the Amazing Walk, whoops I mean Race.Woof, woof
relax
and be safe.
