Comfort at Camp

After a long day of walking, there is nothing like coming home to your home-away-from-home, the 3-Day Camp. While some choose to get a hotel room for various reasons, to me, staying at Camp is a big part of participating in the event. Camp is an essential experience—it is a chance to bond with your teammates and other 3-Day walkers and crew, stay abreast (pun intended) of important walk-related announcements and be completely surrounded by the 3-Day spirit. Only at a 3-Day Camp would hundreds of walkers actually participate in a dance party after walking 40 miles. It sounds crazy, but when “The Cupid Shuffle” starts playing, I promise, you won’t be able to help yourself, even if you have ice bags taped to your feet.

            Despite endless opportunities for fun and meaningful memories, let’s admit it—participating in the 3-Day is a sacrifice—a COMPLETELY worthy sacrifice, but still a sacrifice. You are spending countless hours fund-raising, training and attending the event—time that would otherwise be spent with loved ones, enjoying hobbies, relaxing, working—any number of things. You are temporarily setting aside or limiting other activities in order to raise awareness and funds for breast cancer research.

            Spending the night at Camp is part of that sacrifice. Yes, it may be cold at night. Yes, you may have to wait in line to take a shower. Yes, other walkers may talk or snore when you are trying to sleep. And, no, they do not serve filet mignon for dinner. However, these tiny sacrifices are nothing compared to what many of your fellow walkers have been through. Some of these women and men have experienced multiple chemo and radiation treatments, they’ve lost one or even both of their breasts, they’ve feared this disease will take their life. Others have watched their mother, sister, daughter, wife or friend battle breast cancer and lose. These are true sacrifices. Spending a couple nights in a hot pink tent is no sweat.

            With that said, there are a number of things you can do to make your Camp experience the best it can be. Below I review some of my own experiences and provide a few tips. If you are a past walker and have a few positive suggestions of your own, please comment and share your tips for creating comfort at Camp.

• Bring good shoes or quality flip flops for Camp. Your feet are already going through enough during the day. Don’t bring your $1 flip flops to trot around Camp; I promise you will regret it. It is a long walk from the tents to the showers, another long walk to the dining tent and still more walking to get to Main Street, where the “Post Office,” all the cool sponsor tents and memorial tents are housed. You’ll want to see all this (without cursing your shoes and rubbing new blisters). Don't forget to check the Camp Post Office for letters from home. Note that you’ll want separate shower shoes, since these will obviously get wet.
• Don't forget your flashlight so you can see as you walk around Camp after dark and visit the porta-potty in the middle of the night. Remember, porta-potties aren't lighted, and there is nowhere to set down a flashlight while you use them. Bring a flashlight you can wear around your neck or on your head so your hands are available.
• Bring earplugs. There are hundreds, even thousands, of fellow walkers and crew sharing a small plot of land. You will hear them talk, snore and unzip and re-zip their tents, as everyone should get up at least once each night to urinate. If you don’t, you aren’t properly hydrated. Due to this, porta-potty doors will slam all night long, bringing me to the next tip.
• Be considerate of other walkers trying to sleep. Carefully shut the porta-potty door with your hand as you exit the porta-potty at night. Quite hours begin at 9 p.m. Be done with your shower and other hygiene rituals by then, and remember you have 20 more miles tomorrow, when you can talk to your tent mate at whatever volume makes you happy.
• Note that there are only a handful of actual sinks, located in front of the shower trailers. One of the sinks I used last year only had very hot water (making for an interesting hand-washing and teeth-brushing). Cut your nightly hygiene routine down to the basics and do what you can without a sink. Many walkers brush their teeth by the woods, using water from their daytime bottles to rinse. I even took a disposable toothbrush and used that one night to make for a quick and non-messy teeth-brushing right before bed.
• Either bring a cup or remember to bring your daytime bottles to the food tent. No cups or bottles are provided. (This cuts down on cost and waste.)
•  If you are a germa-phob like me, you will probably want your own individually wrapped Germ-X or Wet Ones for quality hand-cleaning at camp (and throughout the event). It beats hiking to the sink. (They do offer hand sanitizer and handy wipes outside of the porta-potties, but in my opinion, the quality is not quite as high as the previously mentioned brands.)
•  If you just want a quick face-washing and teeth-brushing in the morning, which I recommend (this isn’t a beauty contest) —consider bringing a pack of pre-moistened face towelettes. Leave the makeup at home. Wear lots and lots of sunscreen.
• Bring plenty of layers for sleeping. Last year in Atlanta, the temperature dipped to 40 degrees, which doesn’t sound that cold until you try to sleep and your body won’t stop shivering, despite the two pairs of pants, three shirts, scully, gloves and two pairs of socks you are wearing. The second night I wore two pairs of fleece pants, a pair of flannel pants, five layers of shirts/sweatshirts, two pairs of socks, a scully, a hoodie and gloves, and I was comfortable. 
• Remember, there are no outlets. This means no blow-drying, no plug-in pump for your air mattress, no plugging up your cell phone, etc. There is the possibility of outlets you can use briefly to charge your phone at one of the booths on Main Street, but I have not personally attempted it, and I would not bank on it. Consider a battery-operated phone charger and a battery-operated pump for your air mattress.
• Bring a sleeping pad or air mattress that will fit within the tent’s dimensions, and remember you’ll be sharing this two-person tent. Blow up the battery-operated air mattress well before the 9 p.m. lights-out.
• There will likely be outdoor heaters by the showers and in the dining tent, so go to these areas to warm up before bedtime and first thing in the morning. Breakfast starts before dawn, and it was my personal motivation to get up so that I could go to the dining tent and warm up by one of the small heaters.
• You do carry your own luggage to your tent, put up your tent and take it down the final morning. This process is not as bad as it sounds. The trek across camp isn’t bad, as long as you have a good rolling duffle bag, preferably with an extendable handle. The tent is super-easy to put up. It takes just a few minutes, and if you have trouble, one of your tent neighbors will likely be glad to help.
• Bring a tarp to go over your tent, another to go inside your tent (below all your items) and a third to place your luggage on outside of your tent. Sandwich your luggage inside the tarp to protect it from the ground below and the dew on top.
• Review the Packing List in your Walker Handbook. I will also offer my extended version of the packing list in a later post.
• Be kind, forgiving and friendly to your fellow campers. Remember, we are all in this together.



Despite your preparations, if you are less than thrilled by some of these sacrifices after walking so many miles, just remember—camping is not chemo. These are two nights of your life, when you are setting aside total comfort for a cause. Keep the 3-Day spirit, a sense of humor and an open mind and heart. You might just enjoy your camping experience; I know I did.



Oh, how good it is to see this sign!



Home sweet home: Camp.



Don't forget a few tent decorations so you can find your tent in the sea of hundreds of matching tents.



Memorial Tents



The dining tent (this only shows about half of it).




Note the distance from my tent to the porta-potties.
Please remember to close the door with your hand at night; don't let it slam.



My flip flop froze one night at Camp. Remember plenty of layers for sleeping!

Main Street/Sponsor Tents/Post Office

Somehow, whatever you pack expands. Get up early enough that final day to squeeze your belongings back into your duffle bag, take down your tent and take your bag to the loading trucks. (This photo was taken sometime before dawn on Day 3.)

Potty Phobias

When I signed up as a first-time walker for the 3-Day for the Cure last year, I was a bit nervous about raising $2,300, and even more concerned about whether I was physically capable of completing all the training miles and the 60 miles of the actual walk, but more than anything—I was worried about the shower and bathroom situation.

            I know it sounds trivial—even silly to some, but I have always been phobic when it comes to germs, and the thought of reeking porta-potties and community-style shower facilities housed in an 18-wheeler haunted me for months. I feared a large open trailer lacking shower curtains and changing rooms, forcing public nudity. I was horrified at the thought. I frantically searched department stores for a short, sleeveless robe like the one I had used my freshman year of college when I last experienced communal showers.

            Meanwhile, I packed dozens and dozens of individually wrapped Wet Ones and Germ-X wipes, and contemplated ways I could avoid the porta-potties. I could stop at fast food restaurants. I could find a tree. I could hold it—anything to avoid the germs and stench of a porta-potty. Just weeks before my first 3-Day, I accompanied my husband on a trek to a college football game. As I waited in line for the porta-potty—which indicates how badly I needed to go—I fearfully anticipated the many porta-potty visits I would make on my upcoming 60-mile walk.

            And then the day arrived. It was finally the 3-Day. After nearly a year of planning, training and fund-raising, we were finally here. It was still dark when we arrived; we were among the first to get there. We waited anxiously behind the gate that would let us into the corral that holds walkers during Opening Ceremony. I glanced over and saw them. The line of 30—no—40 or so hunter green porta-potties. My teammate already had to go, but I was going to hold it as long as I could.

            The Opening Ceremony began, and before the speakers for the sponsors were done making their statements, I was crying. Then the 3-Day spokeswoman took the stage, and the tears were in full-throttle. We left the ceremony fully-charged for our mission, and at the beginning of the horde of 2,600 walkers. Before we knew it, we were at Pit Stop 1. And, it was time. The line of green monsters stood in front of me. I left my pack with my teammate and walked forward to meet my destiny. There was no wait. I went right in. And….it was…clean. It didn’t smell and there were no mishaps to show signs of others’ use.

            After relieving myself, I used the handy wipes provided, refilled my water and Gatorade bottles and we were off – onto Pit Stop 2. Much to my amazement, the porta-potties there were fine too. And, with each stop, I realized how often the stalls were cleaned. Plus, there were no inebriated football fans to get sick or make a mess. Most of the other walkers were women, which—sorry to stereotype—tend to be a little bit neater in their “go.” I was relieved. I was happy. I was ridiculously amazed.

            At the final Pit Stop on Day 1, I truly did encounter the freshest porta-potty I have ever seen. The Pit Stop was down in a valley, and many walkers bypassed the stop to avoid having to make the steep climb back up to the road. My teammate and I went for it. We had no choice; our bladders made the decision. I opened the door to that porta-potty and thought, wow —this thing has never been used!

            So, there was only one more frontier to conquer before I could totally relax: the showers. After dinner at Camp, we gathered our towels and shower supplies and headed toward the grouping of perhaps seven or eight shower trailers. We waited our turn, playing a version of musical chairs as we inched up from one seat to the next, nearing the entrance. Then, it was my turn. I walked in and saw it—each shower stall had its own small changing room that led into the actual shower. Just like college, I had a lockable door, then a dry bench where I could put my clothes, then a shower curtain, and, finally the shower. And the water was hot. It was, perhaps, the most relief-filled showering session of my life (until Day 2, at least). I basked in the warm water, trying to hurry so other walkers wouldn’t have to wait, but enjoying the simple pleasure of removing 20 miles worth of sweat and road grime. I knew then and there, without a doubt, this event was me—I’d be walking in the 3-Day again.

            Note: Given that we all have fears when it comes to accomplishing such an engrossing and challenging undertaking as the 3-Day, I believe whole-heartedly that every inconvenience is worth what we accomplish together, and that no matter how long the line is to the porta-potty, how cold the night is for camping, how sore our muscles are or how little sleep we get—it is nothing compared to what those we are walking for have been through in their battle against breast cancer.

             

Atlanta Camp 2010 (shower trailer in distance)

Atlanta Camp 2010 (shower trailers in distance)

You know you’re a 3-Day walker when...

This was posted by another 3-Day walker, and it is oh-so true. 
The extended version and the author's blog

You know you're a 3-Day walker when...

The number of toes and toenails you have are not equal.
You have more fanny packs than purses.
You have consumed more Gatorade than what gets dumped on the winning coach at a football game.
You know the location of every gas station, public restroom, strategic trees and water fountains within a 20-mile radius of your house.
You put more miles on your feet than on your car over the weekend.
Your idea of a fun date is an 18-mile training walk. (And a great double date is a 15 mile walk the next day.)
All your workout clothes are pink, or at least have something pink on them.
You rotate your walking shoes more often than you rotate your tires.
You are an expert on... socks.
Your children are out of diapers yet you still buy Petroleum Jelly.
You understand the critical importance of, and need for, compression shorts.
You stretch at stoplights.
You *always* stop walking to talk on your cell phone. (Right?!)
Total strangers honk and scream 'Thank You' out the window as they drive by.
You can squeeze a LOT of stuff (including a sleeping bag and air mattress with pump) into a duffle bag that weighs less than 35 pounds.

Everything in your life (everything) is organized in different sized zip-loc bags.
You know at least 20 different words for breasts and know no matter what you call them, that they are worth saving.