One Month From Now....

One month from now, I will be in a pink tent in a sea of pink tents somewhere in a park somewhere in the Dallas area. I will be in the super heavy-duty sleeping bag my sisters bought me last year. I will have on my pink flamingo flannel jammies and fleece gloves and will be trying desperately to stay warm.

I will have taken a Tylenol PM to help me sleep. I'll have ear plugs in my ears and my headband on to hold them in. I will be exhausted.

But experience tells me I'll be too wound up to sleep immediately. Because, you see, I will have lived a day I've been waiting for all year.....

One month from this morning, I will get up before the crack of dawn and put on my tennis skirt, fleece jacket, running shoes and gloves. I'll fill up my Camelbak and join my bleary-eyed teammates as we make the journey to Southfork Ranch, just north of Dallas.

There, we will meet up with about 3000 other people joined in one goal. You have to have strong goals to meet in the middle of the country before dawn breaks.

We'll be cold. Really cold.

But excitement will build. And as morning breaks and light begins to soften the edges of our world, the Opening Ceremonies will begin. After all the miles of training and all the fundraising, we'll be "there."

We'll cry some. Or a lot.

They've asked me to carry a flag in honor of my Mom. I will. Proudly. With a package of Kleenex in my pocket.

We'll leave Southfork, and as our seemingly endless parade of pink streams along, we'll talk. And we'll share. And we'll laugh. And we'll cry.

I'll be hitching the shuttle buses quite a bit this year. It's something I've had to come to terms with. My personality doesn't lend itself well to accepting the fact that my body may not have as much oomph as my spirit. So I'll hitch the shuttle and find myself in the company of men and women who need a lift as well.

We'll tailor our shuttle-riding around the cheering stations. Not about to miss one of those. Who would pass up chocolate by choice?

We'll eat lunch in a park somewhere. A sandwich. Since Peppridge Farms is one of our sponsors, I'm expecting one of their yummy cookies for dessert. I hope I'm right.

We'll pee in porta-potties and drink enough Gatorade to sink a battleship. We'll gain blisters and lose toenails.

We'll share some more.

As we get closer to the 20-mile mark, anticipation will build. Somewhere up ahead will be that sea of pink tents -- and if there is a tent fairy, ours will already be set up.

We'll take showers in a semi truck, nurse our blisters, ice our knees and feet, eat a dinner of spaghetti and search the ice chests for Dr. Pepper.

And we'll share some more.

And we'll wonder what the grand total is going to be -- how much money these 3000 walkers have raised to fight breast cancer. And if maybe, hopefully, we've managed to raise the last dollar needed for a cure. And if not that, then the dollar that will pay for a mammogram that will save a life.

And Jenne will lead the first night's camp show. And we'll laugh and sing and dance.

And at 9:00 it's lights out.

And there I'll be.

In a pink tent in a sea of pink tents somewhere in a park somewhere in the Dallas area. I will be in the super heavy-duty sleeping bag my sisters bought me last year. I will have on my pink flamingo flannel jammies and fleece gloves and will be trying desperately to stay warm.