2009 AFSP Out of the Darkness Overnight Walk

The American Foundation for Suicide Prevention’s 2009 Out of the Darkness Overnight Walk took place in Chicago, Illinois.  It began the evening of June 27, 2009 and concluded the morning of June 28, 2009.

The 18 mile walk raises money for the American Foundation for Suicide Prevention (AFSP), which is a non-profit organization that uses the funds for suicide prevention and awareness programs.

I am proud to say that although I was one of the last to finish, I did walk the entire 18 miles. Here is the map, taken directly from the data on my GPS watch, that shows my path:

I arrived in Chicago the day before the walk. Chicago was my home city for five years, and I was able to stay with a good friend from those days. We had a relaxing night, a good dinner, and engaging conversation.

Saturday morning was full of frenzied activity. On the day of the walk, I met my teammate, Amy, for the first time. We became teammates after finding each other through our Tweets about The Overnight on Twitter, and found we shared much in common. I went to the hotel room where Amy and another Twitter friend, Nora, were staying.

Me, Amy, and Nora at some point during The Overnight.

There was a lot to do in the last moments. Did we have all our gear? Did the luminary bags we decorated to honor those for whom we walked include everything we wanted? Should we weigh ourselves down with a jacket or regret that we left it behind?

The front of my luminary bag, in honor of a great guy.

The back of my luminary bag. In honor of many.

We were late getting out of the hotel room as it was. The three of us were considered media walkers because we would be sending updates through Twitter during the walk. As such, we were to attend a meeting prior to the Opening Ceremonies. Just as we were about to get on the hotel elevator, Amy got a call to do a live interview on Australian radio. We feared her call would be disconnected if we boarded the elevator or entered the stairwell. After Amy did some wonderful international PR, we were finally on our way.

The meeting was helpful, although we interrupted it with our late arrival. It was great to meet Wylie, the Public Relations manager for AFSP, in person, too. After the meeting, we dashed over to registration while other people were grabbing a meal. There would be time to eat before the Opening Ceremonies. Or so I thought.

As soon as I returned from registration, I was summoned to another meeting. This time, it was for participants in the Opening Ceremonies. Earlier in June, seven walkers had been chosen to represent the seven colors of Honor Beads worn during the walk. Each color of bead symbolizes a different reason for walking. From The Overnight’s official website:

For many, the Out of the Darkness Overnight is a journey of remembrance – a time to acknowledge the ways in which suicide and depression have affected our lives and our loved ones. Various color honor beads acknowledge your personal connection to the cause, and help you to identify others who may know just how you feel.

Honor Bead Colors Signify:

Lost a Child – White

Lost a Spouse or Partner – Red

Lost a Parent – Gold

Lost a Sibling – Orange

Lost a Relative or Friend – Purple

Struggled Personally – Green

Support the Cause – Blue

It was one of the proudest moments of my life when my journey out of the darkness allowed me to be chosen as the walker wearing green beads. During the rehearsal for the Opening Ceremonies, I heard for the first time that I “represented hope for the future.” What an awesome responsibility… and honor. There is hope for those who live with depression, the leading cause of suicide. Nearly eight out of ten patients with depressive illness will improve through treatment with medicine and psychotherapy.

Although the rehearsal itself didn’t take that long, we were on “standby” for a long time. In the meantime, my friend Scott arrived. It took him quite awhile to find me. Imagine trying to find one short woman among 2,000 people– easily 1,500 of whom were wearing shirts with the same design! Eventually he found me (and some water for himself) and got his video cameras ready to record the Opening Ceremonies.

Just before we were to start, Ruth, my walking partner from the training walks found me. We exchanged hugs and I told her I would be in the Opening Ceremonies. “I represent hope,” I told her. “Yes, you do,” she answered. Those words have stayed with me during some difficult times, and I appreciate them (and her) very much.

As soon as it was time to start, the frenzy of the morning, afternoon, and early evening gave way to an unexpected calm.

Some of the Honor Beads representatives during Opening Ceremonies

This is a photograph of the Honor Beads representatives portion of the Opening Ceremonies. I wish the other two participants were also in this picture. The gentleman at the podium is Kevin Roy, from WLS-TV in Chicago. He is a survivor of suicide loss, and he spoke about why each of us is walking. Although there were seven of us on the stage, every one of the walkers in the crowd had a story as compelling as ours. You can see the video of this portion on YouTube (recorded by Amy) at http://tinyurl.com/2009-overnight.

The only thing I struggled with while on stage was that my story, unlike that of my counterparts, is a happy one. I am thrilled to spread the message that depression is a manageable condition, but it was hard to have joy while thinking about the losses endured by the others sharing the platform.

As part of the Opening Ceremonies, the walk itself began with a surprisingly large group of people who had each raised $10,000 for suicide prevention through The Overnight. They led the seven of us out of Soldier Field, and we were followed by everyone else. At the beginning of the walk, we were bunched up so tightly it was nearly impossible to pass.

No room to move.

The line of walkers was so long and thick initially that people going by the other way could hardly pass. There were some rickshaw drivers trying to navigate the same sidewalk as we were. Sadly, I saw one of the rickshaws topple over. Many people rushed to help, and thankfully no one was injured.

Overnightwalkers as far as the eye could see.

It didn’t take too long before we had a little more room between the walkers. Our first photo op came at the two mile mark, where there was literally a two mile marker. There was a line to take photos here, but we decided it was worth it. If only the photographer had experience with my phone, I think the picture would have been in focus.

Me, Nora, and Amy at Mile 2

Navy Pier at sunset

The photo on the right is the last one I got before sundown. For safety reasons, we were under strict orders not to use our phones, cameras, or any other electronic devices while moving. Stopping every time we wanted to take a photograph or send a Tweet slowed us down considerably, but we followed the rules for our own safety and that of others.

This photo shows Navy Pier, which was to our north. In the summertime, Navy Pier is a popular attraction for families, people on dates, other locals, and tourists. We were able to share our goal of bringing discussion about suicide prevention out of the darkness with lots of the visitors to the Pier that night.

By the time we reached the first rest stop, we were famished. None of the people I was walking with (Amy, Nora, and my friend Scott who joined us unofficially for the first three miles) had eaten dinner yet. The rest stop was well-stocked with snacks, water, sports drinks, and all important Porta-Potties. Eager to fulfill our duties as Tweeters, Amy and I sent several Tweets from that first rest stop. Though we took some snacks “for the road,” we also ate a lot at the rest stop. We were one of the last groups to leave the first rest stop, and that turned out to be a serious tactical error on our part. Amy and I, who walk at a relatively slow pace to begin with, found ourselves well behind most of the other walkers from the first rest stop on.

Scott and Dani, who are not that fat in real life. Who takes a picture from that angle, anyway?

Shortly after the first rest stop, we said goodbye to Scott. He was not an official walker and shouldn’t have gone with us as far as he did, but I remain grateful for his support in that and so many other ways.

Nora was next to leave our small group. She left something behind at the rest stop and had to go back for it. I knew Amy would have to leave before the end of the walk as well. Due to medical issues, Amy had not been able to train the way she would have liked. She did not expect to make it much past mile four or five. As my GPS watch beeped with each half mile, Amy announced that she thought she could make another. It was Amy who had to slow down for me a couple of times.

This homemade sign was the highlight of that hour for me.

Eventually, we reached the 6.1 mile mark, which is just shy of 10 km. I knew exactly how far we had walked thanks to my trusty GPS, but something about seeing that homemade sign taped to a bench was truly inspiring. Shortly thereafter, at mile 6.4, was our second rest stop. I thought Amy might leave at that time, but she did not.

We stopped to eat, use the bathroom, and Tweet. When I looked at my phone for the first time in more than four miles, I discovered numerous Tweets to me in support. Some were from friends who joined Twitter just to follow the event, but many were from people I had never met.

At that rest stop, I also made the best connection I had in a night of many memorable interactions. A man who recognized me from the Opening Ceremonies stopped to thank me for my courage. He shook my hand and said he wished he were that brave. I noticed the beads he wore were not green. Even surrounded by people who understand, he wasn’t ready to share his personal struggle. I was honored that he chose to share with me. I understood his fear, but told him honestly that the more I talked about my own issues, the more I found support and understanding. I told him about this blog, and he scrambled to find paper to jot down the URL. In the rain, he wrote it down. We said our goodbyes and rejoined our walking partners. I hope I helped him that night. I know he helped me.

I don’t really remember anything between that rest stop and mile ten, but I did stop just before mile 8.5 to Tweet that the rain had stopped and the humidity began. I do recall that the rain, which I had feared would make me cold, was instead refreshing and energizing. The humidity was much harder to handle, but didn’t seem to last that long.

Me at the official 10 mile mark

According to my GPS, which counted in my mileage all the steps I took to and from Porta-Potties and at rest stops, the next rest stop was just past the 10 mile mark. Officially, it was actually just before 10 miles. Amy and I had “lunch” and I changed my socks for the second time. After the meal, it was time to bid farewell to my partner and friend, who had discovered her physical limits were far beyond what she ever dreamed.

Before I continued on, I discovered that in addition to the public Tweets of support I was receiving, my friend Chris was sending me direct messages through Twitter at an astonishingly frequent rate. Some of them included messages of support sent to him through Facebook.

Inspired by a conversation the previous night about repeaters with a friend who is a ham radio operator, I asked Chris to be a human repeater. Since we shared many Facebook friends, Chris agreed to post my Tweets on Facebook. His enthusiasm for the job was impressive, and I received many messages from people who saw those posts I wouldn’t have gotten otherwise.

Cindy at Mile 10 celebrating what would have been her son Jay's 26th birthday

As is common with this event, even though my partner had left, I didn’t walk alone for long. Almost immediately after leaving the rest stop, I met Cindy. She, along with her friend and former co-worker Judy, walked for Cindy’s son Jay. Jay died by suicide 10 years earlier. His 26th birthday would have been the night the walk began, and Cindy carried a balloon and a sign with a picture of the two of them in celebration. Cindy and Judy have walked in several Overnights together and eagerly welcomed me to walk with them.

During this time, we passed a Walgreen’s in front of which a man was sitting. I was straggling to the back of my new group, and the man stopped me. He asked me for change, and I apologized and told him that most of us on the walk were not carrying money. The man, who had seen many other walkers go by, asked what we were walking for. I explained, and he took my hands in his and earnestly said, “You are doing important work.” When I left him, we both had a smile on our face and a hint of mist in our eyes.

Me, Judy, and Cindy at Mile 12. I'm pretty sure Jay and Tim were there, too.

I caught up with my group, which was joined at two separate times by local people. Both men had happened upon us and asked why we were walking in the rain (which by then had started again).

The first man, Mark, walked with us for over a mile as he listened to us talk about what the AFSP does to support surviving families and to prevent future deaths by suicide. Eventually, Mark went back to wherever he had been going originally, but it was clear he had been touched. Shortly after that, we walked with another man who went half a mile out of his way to listen to our message and share his connections to suicide.

By this time, we only occasionally saw other official walkers, but throughout the route, we frequently encountered Overnight volunteers, who to a person were tremendous. Not only did the crew fulfill their most important duty, which was to keep everyone safe, but they did it with humor, charm, and enthusiasm that was unexpected. I remain grateful for the support and encouragement various members of the crew gave me that night.

Mile 13 was directly in front of the Hancock Building

I was tickled that Mile 13′s marker was in front of the Hancock Building. In 1987, I worked in one of the upper floors of the building (86th? 87th?). I wrote public service announcements for a now defunct radio station, and it was one of the best jobs I ever had.

At this point, I let Cindy and Judy go on without me. I could no longer keep up with their pace. Although I didn’t have a partner for the rest of the walk, I did not walk alone. This part of the walk became spiritual for me, and it was the first part where I really struggled. I prayed, envisioned the recently deceased Tim walking in front of me, and stopped to check my Twitter account when I needed a boost. Without fail, there would be five or six messages from Chris along with a surprise assortment of others. I hoarded these messages and only pulled the phone out when I really felt the need.

The last rest stop came around mile 15. There, I met my AFSP walking coach, Allyson, in person for the first time. Allyson was a tremendous source of support and enthusiasm throughout my fundraising and training, and it was a delight to spend some time with her.

According to my Twitter account, I left the stop around 3:08 a.m. I wrote:

The glowsticks in the porta potties at #theovernight are all burned out, but the light of the walkers here burns bright.

By mile 16, every step was painful, but I was able to keep perspective. My Tweet at mile 16.4:

Been a long time since I’ve been in this much pain, but it doesn’t touch the pain of losing a loved one to suicide.

Although the route was not a loop (see the map at the beginning of the post for an idea what the route looked like), we did eventually retrace some of our steps. Here is Navy Pier again, several hours later but from almost the same point of view as earlier.

Looking back at Navy Pier

Each step continued to drag (although looking at my GPS data, I actually walked the last couple of miles at a very good pace). I got a boost of energy when I thought I saw the sunrise. To this day, I have no idea if I was seeing a hint of sunrise or just the harbor lights alone. I chose to believe in the sun.

Could it be sunrise?

By mile 17, I had a new sense of energy. I remember coming across a few of the other final stragglers. One young man commented to his friends that it was just their group and the injured left. I told him to take pride in the fact that he was going to finish 18 miles without assistance and remember that most people will never start such a journey, let alone complete it. My words were for me, as well.

Almost there!

This is the last photograph I took during the walk. By this point, I could hear the cheers of the walkers who had arrived before me. There was just about half a mile to go. I was worried that I would cry when I entered Soldier Field, but I needn’t have been concerned. Many, many other walkers had tears in their eyes as they completed the walk.

As I got close to the end, I could see the luminary bags lighting the path to the finish. I looked for mine, but could not find it. Instead, I got to learn just a bit about many of the other walkers and their connections to suicide.

According to my GPS data, the walk was 18.11 miles, and I finished it in 8 hours and 56 minutes.

The 2009 Overnight has been completed, but the work of the American Foundation for Suicide Prevention continues. To support the mission of suicide prevention, please join me at the 2010 Overnight in Boston, Massachusetts June 26-27 or make a donation at http://tinyurl.com/walk2010