Thank you, isn’t enough.
The Walk is over and now comes the toughest part — saying thanks. Thank you isn’t enough. How do I express my thanks, after 6–8 weeks of interrupting your social media feed, and bombarding your inbox (sometimes multiple inboxes)? After every fundraiser, I am extremely thankful for what we’ve done, specifically the money we have raised toward finding a cure. That is the primary goal, and we have been ultra successful in our past five years of The Walk (and the three years of fundraising prior to that!) In fact, for this year after all is said and done, we will have raised over $115,000.00 toward finding a cure. For that, I thank you — over and over — a thousand times thank you. We walked more than 23 miles (over the day I was 25) and we were walking for 12 and a half hours. My Apple Workout circles spun for almost a full minute!
But why is thank you not enough?
Don’t get me wrong, my target next year will again be $100,000, but as much as I want to get those donations, as much as I want to see a cure, this event means so much more to me personally. Every year it’s slightly different, but every year, it’s also the same — there are multiple stories, not stories — memories, memories that make this such a meaningful day for me. Your donations keep me going, my disease keeps me going, but what I’m truly thankful for is the friendship. The people that support, but most importantly, the people that are there, helping to create those memories.
My wife, getting up at 530a so she can get to the diner before 6 to get 18 bacon, egg, and cheese sandwiches.
My dog greeting all 17 people with a loud bark, every time the doorbell rang (wonderful for 6am in an apartment building).
17 people, carrying on multiple conversations, in my apartment at 630 am.
Our first donor challenge, in front of the giant pigeon at the end of the High Line, creating a TikTok to the song, “Walk It Out” by DJ UNK (thank you to our artistic director Pat for producing this stream).
The 27 minute coffee while we shouted, “Lobo, Oh Lobo, Where Fore Art Thou Lobo?”, in Front of his building, not realizing his apartment is on the back of the building. (Alan was sick and couldn’t join us so we came to him!)
Losing Ray at Lincoln center — but more importantly, not realizing we lost Ray.
Speaking of Ray, Ray and his AI terra cotta warriors that walked with us!
Archer & Goat opening early for us and us immediately taking almost the entire outdoor seating, and having two beers before noon.
Teresa realizing we aren’t on a power-walk.
“THE BEST HENNY COLADA IN TOWN!”, on Bruckner Boulevard, asking for one, and for 15 straws.
“PLEASE…PLEASE…we can’t just walk past the Bronx Brewery, we have to stop there!”, (we were still at mile 10 at the time).
Not seeing the Chevalier Ballet company on the Upper East Side promenade so we re-created the photo from last year (and tagged them on our IG post!)
Making the mistake of not ordering twice as many sliders and tacos because that not only lead to a second round of beers but to shots coming out as well — it was only 3pm.
Realizing your son, and the son of one of the other walkers, is fitting in wonderfully, assisting with said shots.
“Gents — we need a barricade” (quoted on the 59th Street Bridge, not going to explain more.)
Stopping at a coffee shop in Queens as I needed to go to the restroom — and then realizing I mistakenly choose a coffee shop that serves beer.
The Shannon Pot 2, Me: “We’re going in but not stopping, we are only getting Jamesons and then we are leaving.”
Dana at the Shannon Pot 2, “can I get a popcorn bowl?”
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Dana realizing that saying, “let’s just power through, c’mon, let’s go” is falling on deaf ears.
Somewhere in Brooklyn, “I need to go to the bathroom.” And then 5 minutes later 5 of them are sitting down having a beer.
Baino making an ACDC TikTok while we waited.
Me finally whistling into the bar, “we are leaving”…and then this text chain
B: We are coming. 3 blocks back. When do we turn right?
Me: We are On Kent ave. Go to bridge we turn left before bridge to get on ramp
B: Just wait
Me: Hurry up
B: It’s like walking cats on a leash
Me: You gave them too many treats.
B: They need katnip
Finally getting to, and crossing the Williamsburg Bridge, and getting an opportunity to take a pic w/ my boy who came on the entire walk, and was one of the five guys sitting down having a beer.
Arriving at Mary O’s only to find that Ray, Kieran, Brian, Shark, Pat, had all stopped at Croxley’s first, to pay their respects (Croxley’s used to sponsor our rugby team), before getting to Mary’s.
Leaving at 07:00 Saturday morning, saying goodbye to the overnight doorman. Getting home around 00:30 (now Sunday morning), and saying goodnight to the same overnight doorman.
Every year it’s different, and every year it’s the same. Brian, from The MMRF, asked me how we started this. It started with me Promoting Global Hair Loss. I then ran up the Empire State Building, one year post stem cell transplant. I then met Eric Gelber and ran with him around Central Park for 3 days, in 3 different years, before he finally finished! Then Eric started his endurance run, which lasted 12 hours, and we were never fast but we kicked everyone’s @ss raising money! And then covid — the event wasn’t cancelled but it became “do your own thing” — and that’s how we started, five years ago, in Bay Ridge Brooklyn, where we walked the NYC Marathon route. When we ended in Central Park, near Eric’s HQ for his runs, there were people that couldn’t stand up straight, others who’s feet swelled up the next day, but damn — did we have a good time. There are stories and pictures I can repeat on another day, or you can read my post from that year. But in the year of “mess” that was 2020, that Walk was meaningful, it was special, it was a collection of memories that set the stage. It was the group coming back and saying, “in this year of absolute shit, that walk was the one thing I will always remember.” To which I responded, “Let’s do it again next year!”
Every year, and for a few years prior to that first Walk, my teammates have come to my side and walked 20+ miles whilst also asking their friends, co-workers, and relatives for money. Money to help find a cure for my disease. There have been many stories since I met them in 1994, as there always are with a rugby team, or any good friends. If you join us on the walk, you will hear some of them come up at some point. This walk is not just an event, it’s a chance to spend time with your friends, creating memories, maybe not on the pitch, but memories all the same. And every year you hear from me, asking, and then thanking. This year I asked the guys if they would give me their thoughts. Here is their unedited comments (and only vaguely directed, so if they don’t make sense, don’t hold me accountable.)
“I very rarely get to see my old rugby friends, having moved to the suburbs many years ago. This day allows me the opportunity to spend 12 hours with them and catch up on what they are doing and how they are getting on. I also get to enjoy the Coty again, which I rarely visit apart from my periodic commute into the mid town office. So not just a good cause but also something I look forward to all year.”
“I believe in showing up for others and that even small acts can make a big difference.”
“Every year we worry about hitting our goals because we are going back to the same well every year. But once again you have proven those worries unnecessary through you continued support and generosity. Something to that effect. Plus if you are ever on the Bronx side of the Third Ave Bridge you’ve gotta try the Henni-Coladas at whatever that place was called!”
“I do this for my teammates.”
“Our annual walk to raise money to fight MM is a day I look forward to each year. I get the opportunity to raise money and do something positive while spending the day with some of my oldest friends. I love stopping at the Archer and the Goat because it reminds me of the serendipity we found on our first walk during COVID. As a blood cancer survivor I know first hand how important every penny that was donated to us is and the opportunities those pennies will provide for children yet born.”
Every year, I take part in the Walk not only to help raise funds for an important cause, but also because it’s personal — Bill is a Multiple Myeloma survivor, and supporting the MMRF is one way I can honor his journey, trials and tribulations, and contribute to the research that helps people like him.
The walk has also become something I really look forward to each year because it’s a chance to reconnect with a group of friends I don’t get to see nearly often enough. As we get older and life gets in the way, it’s nice to be able to spend the amount of time that we do as a group together, beyond the occasional “hand at the bar” interactions. Between the cause, the community, and the time spent together, it’s an experience that means a lot to me on many levels.
I don’t have a broad or financially deep circle of donors. That being said, I seem to get an email or a text every year similar to the one I have attached. Of things that the walk represents, the one thing that stands out it the importance of collective care, connection, and support is most essential. Not only for patients, but for those close to them caregivers, friends and family. Just knowing that there are others in this with you or have a deep ( or even a shallow) understanding of what one is personally are experiencing. I can relate to this with my wife’s illness…The relief and joy of a stumbling across a random someone who understands is nourishing.
(This one came w/ an attachment, a friend who’s father is fighting MM.)
Since that first Walk in 2020, we have raised well over $700k for The MMRF, and if you add the other events in the past, we are well mast $1 million!!! But like I’ve said before, I am living proof that your donations, the money we raise, is making a difference. These new drugs are not just offering hope, they are coming close to being a cure!
But again, “Thank You” isn’t enough. I almost feel selfish doing this. Raising money provides a reason for us to go out and do something (many things) stupid, but having that day with my family and friends is the part that’s important. I think this comes with being a cancer patient. Your perspective changes, and these kind of things are just so important. I have a myeloma buddy who preaches “Carpe Diem”, and that is the correct sentiment. So I’ll say Thank You, once again, realizing it’s not enough, but each and every one of you help me not only live my life to the fullest, but are actually part of the reason I am actually physically here! We are finding a cure in my lifetime, thank you for helping us do that!
Come join us next time!
