Walking 60 Miles: Lessons from the Susan G. Komen 3-Day
The question I heard again and again during the Susan G. Komen 3-Day in Boston was simple: What is your why?
People shared as much or as little as they wanted.
My why was deeply personal. I walked those 60 miles for members of my family and for my best friend. When someone you love is facing cancer, putting one foot in front of the other for three days feels like something tangible you can actually do.
Overcoming the Unexpected Before Day One
I originally planned to walk entirely alone. I had my music ready and my playlist set.
Then I learned headphones aren’t allowed because the route moves through real streets, active traffic, and busy neighborhoods. Safety-wise, it made perfect sense. From an introvert-with-a-playlist standpoint, I had serious concerns.
And then I met Miss Jackie.
Ms Jackie on Day 2 with a bedazzled bra Ms Jackie and Temeka
I heard her before I officially met her because she spoke to everybody. As I started to pass her, she greeted me just like she greeted every other person on the route, and we immediately struck up a conversation.
She wore a bright pink, bedazzled bra as a hat and waved at passing cars like Miss America, trying to get every driver to honk. She stopped for pictures, made friends everywhere, and had a personal goal of making the event’s social media feed. (By the final day, her photo was decorating a sponsor booth—intentionality works!)
Miss Jackie walked in memory of her mother and mother-in-law. She reminded me so much of my best friend, April—who is part of my why—that I couldn’t help feeling April had sent her to find me.
Finding Community on the 60-Mile Route
I thought we would walk together for part of Day 1. The next morning, I arrived late and people immediately asked, “Are you Temeka? Jackie is looking for you.”
We ended up walking together all three days.
That unexpected bond is what will stay with me forever. I expected this experience to test my physical strength; I didn’t expect it to show me how quickly strangers can become a true community.
And that community carried me:
Cheering stations** were staffed by dedicated volunteers taking their jobs very seriously.
Sweeper vans** offered relief whenever anyone needed help reaching the next stop.
Camp mail** brought handwritten notes from complete strangers encouraging me to keep going.
Random supporters** on sidewalks shouted, “I’m proud of you,” at the exact moment I needed to hear it.
Overcoming My Fear of Fundraising
There were also current and former colleagues who cheered me on, shared training tips, wrote notes, checked in, and donated. To all of you, thank you. The same goes to my family, friends, sorority sisters, Girl Scout community, my husband, my son, and every person who supported this slightly wild idea.
Fundraising does not come naturally to me. Growing up, asking other people for money simply wasn’t something we did. So I was genuinely overwhelmed when my total reached nearly $6,000—more than twice my original goal.
Every single donation represented trust, encouragement, and often someone else’s deeply personal why.
Stepping Far Outside My Comfort Zone
A therapist once encouraged me to do something for myself that would keep me committed to my fitness goals. I’m not sure she envisioned 60 miles, porta-potties, sweeper vans, blisters, and orthopedic shoes that do absolutely nothing for my aesthetic.
But here we are.
I trained for this moment. I stepped outside my comfort zone. I proved I could do hard things. Most importantly, I learned that sometimes the thing you expect to do alone becomes meaningful precisely because you don’t.
Will I sign up for next year’s walk? My feet have asked that I not make any binding commitments just yet—but who knows?
What’s Your "Why"?
Have you ever taken on a goal that completely pushed you out of your comfort zone? Share your story in the comments below. I'd love to read it! If you're inspired to support breast cancer research, consider making a donation or signing up for a walk in your local area.
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