Forgetting my own name

I thought it was a mistake, the first time that it happened, but then, later, at the wine shop, it happened again. I forgot how to sign my name.

"I'm sorry," I apologized, stumbling over the words. "I'm a little... out of it. I did two 5Ks this morning, back to back."

"Wow, congratulations," said the girl behind the counter and I realized I should have clarified. I didn't run two 5Ks. I walked but no matter how I got from A to B, I did get from A to B. All 10 kilometers from A to B. I walked just as much as anyone else ran. More.

I didn't mean to do it. I meant to walk one, but then I couldn't decide. Domestic violence awareness? AIDS awareness? I had ties to each but only so much walk in me or so I thought until I realized that one started at eight and the other at 9:15. Both were in the city. Theoretically, I could make it.

And then my friends talked me down.

"You're going to do what?" they asked. "Just pick one."

I signed up for the Run for Freedom, a 5K in support of Freedom House and the Women of Freedom Foundation. The walk would support the shelter, support groups and workshops.

A day or so later, I got a reminder that my church had formed a team to walk in the Whitman Walker AIDS Walk. I don't go to church, not much, but I do belong. I joined one a couple of years ago, so I signed up for the walk and sent an email saying I didn't expect to see the team as I would arrive late with the whole 5K earlier in the morning thing.

I left out the fact that I didn't know anyone in the 20- and 30-something group from my church. Wouldn't even recognize them. Truth be told, I had a better chance of recognizing some of those who walked for Nellie's Sports Bar or one of the consulting firms, but I signed up. I joined the team.

At the first walk, at the end of Hains Point where the Awakening used to rise from the ground, I met a group of walkers and walked with a woman who brought home the point of the walk. She'd been abused for 21 years, 15 of them physical. She'd been molested by seven different people and raped three times. A wall formed when she talked about that, her voice changed. She spoke to the crowd before we walked; she'd turned her life around to work as a motivational speaker.

"There are more animal shelters in this country than shelters for battered women," she said. "One in three women will be abused or raped."

I didn't have a response. My $25 registration fee, my walking, my reading to kids in a shelter – none of them could battle odds like that, but at least I didn't have my head in the sand. At least I tried to do something, or so I rationalized as I walked in the cool autumn morning.

I'd seen the sun rise over the Anacostia while I waited, the East Branch, by the time I left the first race, parked my car and jogged a few blocks to Freedom Plaza, the sun was high in the sky.

"I should have brought my sunglasses," I thought as I scoured the crowd of thousands.

Fraternities and bars, law firms, consulting firms, churches, the Gay Men's Chorus of Washington DC. Interns. Gas companies. Schools. A wedding party. A grocery store. All formed teams to bring awareness to AIDS. When I stopped to tie my shoe, resigned to the fact that I'd be walking alone, I looked behind me and found a sign for my team.

"Kristin, right?" asked a woman in the group. She knew who I was. They all knew who I was – the one they didn't recognize, I figured. And they welcomed me. We walked much more slowly with far more people and a greater percentage of walkers than the first race. We walked and we talked.

Sixteen of us represented the church. The new vicar, a newlywed with a Sudanese husband still in Germany, pending processing. They met in Iowa. A young woman who worked for a senator from South Dakota; she moved to the Hill a month ago. Men. Women. People in their 20s and 30s plus a visiting pastor from Namibia, a country I'd visit in just a few short months. The miles passed quickly, no matter how slowly we walked.

I was a little surprised to find myself back at the beginning. The end. For a quick walk back to the car and a drive home. For errands and traffic and a long, long day as I'm planning an engagement party and didn't want to put off 'til next weekend that which could be done this weekend. For forgetting how to sign my name.


Tag: Washington DC Walking Exhausted