The Overnight 2010 – Boston
The 2010 Overnight was wonderful experience, but in a different way from last year’s walk. For me, the 2009 Overnight in Chicago was about reaching out to people I didn’t know, honoring people who have died by suicide, and sharing my own experience with coming out of the darkness of depression. This year, I was more focused on my journey and the people who have supported me since I began my training in February, 2009. And that’s exactly what was reflected on the shirt I wore for this year’s Overnight.
I got lots of comments on my shirt beginning at registration. That’s always an exciting and emotional part of the event as people gather and get to know one another. My teammate and I registered early.
Right after we registered, one of the other walkers approached me and told me she related to what I had written on my shirt about my journey out of the darkness. She gave me an emotional hug, which I enthusiastically reciprocated. We didn’t have much chance to talk, so I handed her a business card I had made up earlier in the week. Instead of having my work information on the card, I had my name, home contact information, and website. It was one of two cards I gave out that night. The other woman hasn’t contacted me, but this one did. I was surprised and delighted to receive a Facebook friend request from her, which of course I accepted. Although my focus this year was on myself and my teammate rather than advocacy, that connection was one of the highlights of The Overnight.
It was also during the registration period that I ran into my walking partner from last year’s southeastern Wisconsin training walks. I hadn’t seen her since the 2009 Overnight in Chicago. I suspected she might be walking again this year because her teammate from last year lives in Boston. One of the many great things about participating in The Overnight is the lasting relationships one builds. Many of the teams walk together annually, and my two consecutive years are meager compared to those of the many who have walked in multiple cities.
When the walk itself started, I was nervous about the distance. I hardly trained at all this year, but I was pleasantly surprised to find that the first few miles went by swiftly (for me, anyway) and easily.
I was very careful to drink a full 20 ounce bottle of 50/50 (half Gatorade and half water) between each of the rest stops, which came every 3 miles or so. Last year, I got dehydrated and not only was loopy by Mile 13, but also took a little ambulance ride after the walk was over. My number one goal for the event was to leave in a taxi this time.
The scenery as we walked through Boston was beautiful, and you get a glimpse of that in this photo of my teammate, Robin, at the first rest stop (left).
We think the last time we saw each other was in 1989 or 1990, so it was a thrill to be able to spend some Quantity Time catching up with one another. Our talks were so interesting that I think I missed a lot of the beauty of Boston because I wasn’t paying as much attention as I otherwise would have been.
Just like last year, I thought as it was happening that I would remember every moment of the walk, but it really is a blur to me now. According to my Twitter account (@overnightwalker), I was still feeling good at mile 5.6 when the picture below right was taken. I love the perfect yellow circular signs signifying the end of each mile, but there is something truly special about the handmade signs. It says that someone is as excited as I am about each passing step.
There had been a forecast for rain throughout the night, but the weather turned out to be nearly perfect for the duration of the walk. It struck me funny that Robin, who lives in San Francisco, found the humidity to be heavy while I thought it was nice and dry compared to Milwaukee. Looking at the evolution of my hair (from big at Mile 1 to 1980’s enormous by the last photo), I have to concede that point to my teammate.
Near the halfway mark, where I took this picture of another glorious handmade sign (below left), I tweeted that I was starting to feel the distance. I changed my socks for the first time at that stop, which really did seem to help.
It was right after that when I heard a woman tell her walking companion “changing socks helps more than I would ever have thought it could.” She wasn’t kidding.
It wasn’t long after the changing of the socks that we came to the 10 Mile marker.
The time stamp on the photos shows the two points to be almost an hour apart, but I think Robin and I may have stopped for 15 minutes or so at the halfway point. Even though my hair was heading into gigantic status by Mile 10, this is one of my favorite photos of the night because it is the only clear one of Robin and I together. Most of the strangers we approached were not photographically inclined.
For the next five miles (almost two hours), I didn’t take any other pictures. We were walking through areas that Robin, a former Boston area resident, wasn’t completely comfortable in, so it didn’t seem prudent to stop for a modeling session. I think by that point, I also thought that the pictures of me (or Robin) standing next to the mile markers were getting redundant. In retrospect, it would have been nice to have them.
The “midnight snack” (meal stop) was between Miles 12 and 13 this year, which I liked. Last year, it was at the 10 mile mark. Although I might have been ready for a sandwich by Mile 10, I liked that I was so much closer to the finish after the long stop this year. At the halfway mark, I once again changed socks. It felt every bit as good as changing them the first time did.
Despite having the later meal stop, Mile 13 was the hardest for me in both walks. I seemed to get something of a “second wind” by Mile 14. It also helped that we came upon Joe at about that point. Joe was one of the many crew members making sure all of the walkers had a safe experience that night. He slowed his bicycle to make sure Robin and I were doing well. Robin was having no problems, and I seemed to be getting over mine. As we walked, Joe explained that he was participating in honor of his nephew, Terrance Anderson. Although he never directly said how or why Terry died, it was clear when he told us more about Terry. Joe told us we could always remember Terry’s name because the T stands for TOLERANCE and the A stands for ACCEPTANCE, two things Joe said Terry didn’t find in life and hoped he found in death. We all stopped as, with Joe’s permission, I tweeted about his cherished nephew. Like all of the other conversations I’ve had during The Overnight about death by suicide, this one was tinted with hope. Joe and the other bereaved family and friends I’ve spoken with there found a way to help others by their experiences. Before I walked in my first Overnight, I was concerned that the grief of others would trigger a depressive episode in me. That wasn’t my experience at all. I left both events feeling uplifted by the work that’s being done by the American Foundation for Suicide Prevention at the local and national levels and by the stories of those who are using some truly horrible experiences to help other people.
The last photo we took during The Overnight was of me at the 15 mile mark.
I was feeling fine and had that adrenaline rush from knowing there was less than an hour to go before we made it to the rows of luminaria bags designed by each of the walkers. Around this time, we learned that the route was closer to 17 miles than the 18 miles it had been last year. We were even closer to the finish line than I thought.
The last Quick Stop was just beyond the 16 mile mark. We arrived there, and very suddenly, I was nauseated and dizzy. I realized that for the first time that night, I had not finished a whole bottle of 50/50 between rest stops. In fact, I’d only drunk about 1/4th of the bottle. I thought I might pass out, and I sat down. The week before The Overnight, I had been diagnosed with a bacterial infection in the stomach, and the sudden nausea felt exactly like what I had experienced before I started antibiotic treatment. Just three miles earlier, I told Robin that there was no way I would stop before the end of the walk. I was starting to rethink that position when I was unable to maintain a standing position. Finally, I told Robin that I thought we would need to take the “sweep bus” to the finish line. She was wonderful about it and didn’t question or patronize me. In fact, she was pretty wonderful about the whole night. Robin is quite a bit taller (and far more in shape) than I am, and my walking pace must have seemed like a crawl to her. She also carried a good deal of my supplies, which even for someone in great shape get heavy after six or eight miles. I’m sure I was quite frustrating to Robin when we were walking in the area she didn’t feel safe at my turtle pace, but as soon as she realized I really was walking as quickly as it was physically possible for me, she kept her concerns to herself.
We boarded the bus to the finish line and I tried to keep my eyes closed to keep the bus from spinning as we waited for it to depart. When it finally did, it seemed like we arrived at the start/finish line in no time. We stood at the curb trying to hail a cab. I’m not sure what the best way to get a cab at 3:45 in the morning is, but I can tell you that projectile vomiting isn’t even close. After my dramatic event, I felt much better. Almost good enough to walk that last mile or two, but not quite.
I had planned to “retire” from The Overnight, at least as a walker, after this year. During registration, however, they announced that it will be held in New York next year, the home of my best friend from college. He’s already offered me a place to stay. How can I refuse?
Although I didn’t make it through the path of luminaries at the end of The Overnight, my bag was there. So many of the luminaries represent someone lost to suicide. I’m honored to walk for them, and equally proud to bring my message to professionals, survivors, and fellow strugglers: There is hope.


