A New Journey Begins November 3, 2001 In two weeks, I will celebrate an anniversary of sorts. One year--a long year, but yet a short one. A year of sadness, but a year of great hope and promise. A year in which a miracle occurred in my life. In November 2000, three things happened within a two week period---two of which changed my life forever:I turned 37 years old.I found out I was six weeks pregnant.I was told I had breast cancer. Many of you took this journey with me-- from the diagnosis, through the chemo, the ultrasounds, the birth of a healthy child, the scans, and finally the relief of remission. For my complete story, click here Today, I take another path. Six months from today, I will walk sixty miles, over three days. I will do this for women everywhere...for you, your mother, your sister, your daughter. I will also do this for ME, for I am a survivor. I will not walk alone. In addition to the thousands of participants, three very special people have committed to walk by my side. My brother, Michael, and two dear friends, Laura and Kelle. As I train and prepare, I'll keep my notes here. I invite you to take this journey with me, with us...  Please sign my guestbook, and include your city & state (country also, if international) click here |
THE JOURNAL most recent entries at the top THURSDAY: The alarm went off at 3am. I had been in bed three hours, and felt so tired. I got up, and felt excited that today I would see my brother and one of my two best friends. Today I would begin a life changing journey.My husband took me to the airport, which was an hour and a half away, and soon I was in the air. Alone with my feelings, I thought about speaking the next night, and felt a little nervous. I arrived in Charlotte and walked to the connecting gate, where Michael was waiting. It was so good to see him again. Although I am eleven years older than Michael, he is no longer a little boy, and we have become very close over the past five years. I am glad to have him with me, because if body fails me, he will take care of me. I like that security. We learn our flight is delayed, because Baltimore is having severe weather. I call Kelle, and she is stuck in an awful rainstorm. Michael and I joked about the possibilities of not making it to the walk.An hour later, we were on our way. We landed in Baltimore without incident, and there was Kelle waiting at the end of the concourse. We laughed, we hugged each other, and we were ready to see what this weekend had in store for us.The three of us made our way to the shuttle, and then on to the Baltimore Convention Center. There was a sea of people there, yet it was well organized and things went smoothly. Our first stop was an orientation video. The beginning was a blue screen, and words scrolled up it. At times it was very emotional, and I cried. Other times, they injected humor, and we laughed. We learned the rules of the Three Day. No whining, no whining, no whining, LOL.We checked in, were given ID, paid for towels, and checked our donation totals. I went to the press area to get my instructions as media ambassador and learned that we would lead the walkers Friday morning, as the Three Day began. That was very exciting to hear. We were all smiles, but feeling weary from a long day, as we were bussed to the hotel. After dinner, we called it an early night, as we knew we would probably not sleep much anyway. FRIDAY The big day was here. We showered and dressed, and yes, we used vaseline on our feet. I also had some beginning runner socks that were double layer, and meant to prevent blisters. I wondered if my body would hold up over the next three days. Seven months ago, I was on chemo. Was it enough time? I already knew my training was not sufficient. Time would tell.We had breakfast and then took a bus back to the convention center. The air was quite cold, but I figured it would feel better when the sun was up.I looked around at the masses of people. 4,500 walkers--a number you cannot imagine until you see it. Tall, short, thin, heavy, young, old, black, white and asian. I wondered what motivated each to come. Was I looking at a man who had lost his wife? Was that woman a survivor? Did that young girl still have her mother? Was she carrying with her the heavy sadness of loss? I choked on the emotion of gratitude that my story was positive, and I was alive. I thanked God for my blessings.I was pulled to the press group, and Kelle and Michael would meet me outside as the walk began. There was a wonderful opening speech, and then our group of ten moved to the convention floor. The door to the Convention Center was raised, slowly, and the walk began. We took our first steps holding hands, and the emotion was energizing. As I left the building, I pulled to the side and watched the sea of walkers leave, all of them in the Three Day shirt. The line seemed to go on forever.I met up with Kelle and Michael, and we joined the crowd. There was a cool breeze, actually quite chilly, but the air felt good. Our walk began through Camden Yards and then into the streets of Baltimore. It was very congested with walkers, the pace was very slow, and there was a lot of stop and go. We walked the first two miles to a pit stop, and with each step I took, my body felt good. A year ago, I could not walk 100 yards, and today I was on a route that was 24 miles long.As the day passed, there were times I felt tired. I had not anticipated the number of hills we would encounter. The hills were grueling to me, as I kept drinking, breathing, and at times resting.I hit a wall at 7.7 miles. I was not sure if I would complete that day, and told Kelle and Michael that I was going to make my goal ten miles, for fear I would push my body too far, and end up sick. We continued to walk together, not more than twenty paces apart. At last I made it to the lunch stop, 10.2 miles. It was a much needed rest, but yet I was not confident with my body. Dare I push further? I know my body...with little warning, I become lightheaded and feel faint. That was my greatest fear about the walk. I was frightened that it would happen while on the route, and I would not have the security of my home to rest in. Michael and Kelle knew that, and that's why they ever let me out of their site until this point.We ate, and rested, and I was over the hump. I felt much better, but I still felt I should not push too hard. I told them to go on. They wanted to finish the day and surely my pace would slow them down, because I felt so tired. I did not want to cause them to run out of time and not meet their own goals. Under protest, they went on. They did not want to leave me alone, but I assured them I felt good...good enough, actually, to walk more, but thinking it smart NOT to do so. They left and I sat on the grass, feeling the sun, and the air. I watched walkers leave the stop, on to complete the day. I'm not sure how long I sat there, but I realized I felt good. I decided to walk some more, knowing that if I became weary, a sweep van would pick me up. I started walking, and the next leg was through a beautiful neighborhood, and then on through a forest, along a dirt path. Nature was truly inspiring, I was grateful for the solitude, and I walked. At each stop, I felt good enough to continue. Soon, I hit the hills of Ellicot City, and it seemed they never ended the rest of the day. I pushed my body, feeling a new confidence. Weary, without a doubt, and my muscles ached, but I continued. FRIDAY, ON STAGE At last I was at camp. I wasn't sure where Kelle and Michael were, so I gathered my gear and went to our camp address, B37. My neighbor helped me pitch the tent and I sat inside. I pulled out my notes and pictures of my girls. I prayed that I would be calm, I would feel no fear, and the words would come. I wanted to inspire, I wanted to give hope, and I wanted to thank God for my miracle. Suddenly I felt calm, and I knew I could do it.I met the representative behind the stage, and I was a little taken back at the amount of seats, the number of people there. There were thousands...I found out there were only two survivors chosen to speak, and I felt honored to be one of them. The first lady spoke, although I have no idea what she said. I was focusing on my next step.The Avon Representative called me on stage and announced that I had a special story, because I had cancer when I was pregnant, but my story had a happy ending. She turned it over to me, and I approached the microphone.My words echoed through the crowd and I realized how big it really was. I was going to tell an edited version of my full story, which you can read in the Avon Journal. I saw the serious faces, the look of concern when I told them I was seven weeks pregnant when I was told I had breast cancer. The highlights--I said the surgeon recommended abortion, and there was an audible gasp across the crowd. I continued about the chemo and then I said "On June 24, 2001, Hannah Elizabeth Stephanie Johnson was born weighing 6lbs 15 ounces..." and the crowd went wild. I actually had to stop speaking because of the noise. At that moment, the emotion tore through me and my voice cracked, but only for a second. I continued, and then closed by saying "So, when you are out there walking, and thinking about the women's lives you are saving, remember...you may be saving the next Hannah, too" and I held up her picture. There was loud applause, cheers, and I saw their tears. I thanked them and left the stage. I felt so good, that I had accomplished my goal, and conveyed the emotion. Michael met me behind the stage, and his eyes were full of tears. He hugged me and then I cried as he said he loved me. Shortly after, we made our way to the tent. The wind was so bitter, and the temperature was down to 40 degrees. It was so cold that I could not sleep. I even went to the medical tent at 11:30 pm, where they wrapped me in mylar and a blanket. Of course, I was cold again when I went back to the tent. I had three shirts on, two pair of pants, was wrapped in down and still so cold I hurt. It was a very long night, and I slept about an hour total that night. SATURDAY We awoke to frost on the tents and it was so cold, I felt it in my bones. Stiff from the cold, and sore from walking, at least I had escaped blisters. My feet were in good shape. We took the tent down, packed our gear, and ate breakfast. I had hot tea to try and warm up some and we were on our way.Day two was a shorter route, and we had learned the routine. It was a beautiful day, with a cool breeze. As we passed a designated cheering station, I was overcome with emotion at the number of people who came out, just to cheer, just to say thank you. Young and old, men, women and pets. They cheered, they screamed, and our pace quickened. They energized us, and we thanked them as we passed. Each day was like that, as we passed homes where people were outside, giving snacks, drinks, ice creams, and back rubs. Their kindness even now overwhelms me, it brings me to tears. It felt good to see the camp, as we rounded the final corner.After gathering our gear again, pitching the tent again, I took a crowded shower, had dinner, and Michael and I crashed. We could tell that rain was coming and it was getting cold again. We moved everything away from the sides, and I told Michael to make sure he did not touch the sides of the tent. Doing so would cause it to start leaking. After no sleep the previous night, we were dozing on and off, and listening as the rain began to fall. A few hours later, tents were flooding and walkers were seeking the shelter of the school gymnasium. Our tent stayed dry and we toughed it out. Again, I was dressed in multiple layers, but I was still so cold. Another night with no sleep. SUNDAY Sunday arrived and we were on the final day. By now, I knew I wanted to walk again next year. This experience had been demanding, but also life changing. Little did I know this morning how much more I would feel that at the end of the day.We walked the final route and suddenly we looked up to see a glorious sign "Welcome to Washington". Someone took a picture of us there, we had almost made it!We had to go to a holding area that was six blocks from the closing ceremonies. All walkers would gather there, and walk the final stretch together. As we crossed that line, walkers ahead of us cheered and yelled. It was the most incredible feeling. Michael and Kelle were given blue victory shirts, and I was given pink. We quickly changed and then cheered the others as they arrived. Wheelchairs were pushed across the line. People were carried, because they were hurt. They cried, and they celebrated. They cried and they mourned.I watched a woman cross the line and pull off a wig, to reveal an almost bald head. She twirled the wig in the air, and she smiled. She, too, had made it.I had to meet back with the press, where I did a quick interview for the Washington Times. I learned that there were six of us who would lead the survivors down the last six blocks into closing ceremonies. We waited for what seemed like forever, then the procession began. The sea of blue shirts made their way to the stage, and I watched Michael and Kelle pass. As they staged us at the front of the survivors, I learned that there were only 450 survivors walking. It was then that I KNEW I had to come back. I need to represent those of us living, to be a face to the numbers that say I AM ALIVE, YOU ARE SAVING LIVES LIKE MINE.We lined up and began the final walk. I was there, on the front row, and I saw the capitol building right in front, as we made our way down Pennsylvania Avenue. Suddenly, the blue shirts parted, and we walked forward, hands clasped, arms raised. We were celebrating life. Finally, we had to split off into twos, and I led the survivors down the side of the stage. As we walked, we were cheered, we were encouraged, and we were loved. I have never felt so much gratitude in all of my life. We stopped at the foot of the stage, while everyone else filed in. After a closing speech, we were released, and it was time to find Michael and Kelle. I walked toward the "J" section, but just as I was approaching, someone stepped out. It was Joanie, and then Mike. I was so shocked, and so overwhelmed. I hugged them, still not believing they were there. Just the day before I had said that I regretted not asking my family to come. I was sad that there would be no one to greet us. Little did I know they had a secret.We were given pink roses, and I saw the awesome sign they made.I still cannot believe they drove FOUR HOURS each way, just to greet us. Now THAT'S friendship. Joanie, Mike, I told you then, I'll tell you now..I love you, for caring so much. You will never know what that meant to me. For all of you that supported us, I love you. I thank you. Take this journey with you. Take a moment to breathe the air. Feel the air on your face, the sun kissing you. Hug your babies, kiss your partner. These are the things that are important in life. Let's let the rest fall by the wayside. Carolynn's Crew, Year Two, look out baby...here we come. click here to view 2002 DC Walk Pics Let no one be discouraged by the belief that there is nothing one person can do against the enormous array of the world's ills, misery, ignorance, and violence. Few will have the greatness to bend history, but each of us can work to change a small portion of events. And in the total of all those acts will be written the history of a generation. --Robert F. Kennedy SUNDAY, NOVEMBER 4 Mentally~ I have been drawn to this event since I first saw it advertised months ago, in a magazine. Knowing that I have taken the steps to make it a reality gives me peace, and a sense of satisfaction. 2002 Walkers Carolynn Johnson Kelle Merritt Michael Trent Linda Donnellon Paula Hughes Stephanie Deal Sandie Dennis |