Walking the Walk: Part Two

(Read Part One)

On Saturday morning, May 21, I awoke bright and early in the basement that used to be The Hubbs' apartment when we first met.  I stretched and yawned, looked to my left, and saw The Princess happily tucked under Dirt Pink with only her toes hanging out.

It was Walk day.

After showering and gently waking The Princess (a process that took about 45 minutes from beginning to end), the whole family assembled in the great room.  The Princess, of course, made right for the tent.  She held court and took her breakfast in there with a sippy cup of juice, and we adults made sure we had everything we needed for the big day ahead.

Unfortunately, K-Bear woke up coughing like a 90-year-old with a respiratory condition, and it seemed she would not be able to join us.  Right up until five minutes before takeoff, it looked as though two thirds of JAK would be staying behind while J drove us into the Big Bad City and walked with the group.

As this was being explained to K, she puffed out her little chest and put on her best big girl voice to proclaim, "I'm not sick.  I will walk."

What.  A.  Trouper.

And so it was that our group - Nana, Grampy, JAK, The Princess, and myself - piled into the minivan and headed out for the main event.

Let me just reiterate here that this was the first time I - or any of my team - had ever participated in the Walk.  We had no idea what to expect, but there was definitely a jazzed energy in that van on the way to Soldier Field.

And let me also say that driving into the city is a lot less stressful from the passenger seat.  Even more so when you're sitting in the back of the van with the kids to keep you company.  :)

When we got close to Soldier Field, we started to notice those flashing construction signs you see on the interstate for traffic direction.  They were becoming more and more common, and all of them bore instructions for Autism Speaks.

Still, I had no worldly idea.

J masterfully wedged her van in a space that by all rights should have been too small, granting us Rock Star Parking status (which we'd all appreciate later!).  Shimmying between our van and the neighboring vehicles, we unloaded the wagon and headed toward the field.

Walking in, there were volunteers screaming and cheering, jumping and waving pom-poms, boisterously thanking us for our participation and wishing us luck.  As we passed them, all I could think was How in the world did an autism foundation allow this?  Don't they know that such things can seriously stress out the very people we're walking for...and with?  I was worried...scratch that...I was sure the entire day was going to be filled with an epic meltdown.

Leaving the group in a relatively quiet corner, I quickly went through the registration line to grab my tickets for our tee shirts.  This is something I was very excited about...for every $150 you raised, you were given an event shirt to show off, and I got three: one for me, one for The Hubbs, and one for The Princess.  Hers is by far the best.  Since she's so small, the smallest size they had available hangs down past her knees.  But, by golly, she wore it.

I met back up with our group, we met up with The Princess's Great Auntie T, and we all made our way through the stroller and wagon check so that we could join the fun out on the field.  Holding The Princess's hand, I walked down the tunnel with these people I love who came out to support her, and we were thrust into a gigantic crowd.  A gigantic noisy crowd.  With live music blaring to get the walkers ramped up for the event.

Not ten seconds in, The Princess went into panic mode.  Her grip on my hand tightened until I nearly winced in pain, her eyes started darting around too fast for me to track, and she catapulted herself into my arms.  Those beautiful little eyes filled with tears, and she squished me hard.

What the hell was I thinking?

Up next: Part Three