Wildlife, Winds, and Wicked Good Sunsets

I wanted to post this on Sunday, but then I got the horrible, awful news about my friend Faith dying from Hodgkin's lymphoma, the same type of blood cancer that I had 10 years ago. So I wrote about Faith losing her fight, which still seems unbelievable to me. Then, Monday was my friend Nicki's fifteenth anniversary of her life-saving bone marrow transplant, so I had to write about that yesterday. So I am posting this Tuesday about some unique training for the half-marathon.

Saturday, I had to leave our TNT Silent Mile training after just 1.5 miles to get to a 2PM meeting in Sandbridge. With the Shamrock Half Marathon just three weeks away, and me feeling ill prepared for it, I needed to get in 12 miles today. So after the meeting, I left about 4:20 to start out a training run. It was a beautiful clear day, with the temperature around 50 degrees at the start, but with incredible winds. My original plans were to run down to the wildlife refuge visitor center - 2 miles away - and then a mile more into the refuge to the point where the dike trail is blocked for the season. Turning around and returning would give me six miles. Then I would run north along the beach road for three more miles, and turn around to get in 12 miles. That was my plan. But when I got to the point in Back Bay National Wildlife Refuge where the dike trail should be closed, imagine my surprise when it was open! So, change in plans - keep running to False Cape State Park. I've hiked into there before but never run.

I was moving pretty smoothly at first, cruising down the refuge road, a very strong wind to my right rear. Running about 80% of the distance, my pace is around an 11:15 mile. This is less than half the speed of a world-class marathoner. So I am going to have some catching up to do if I plan on setting my world-record in the marathon in the near future. As I moved along, I didn't see any wildlife here other than a belted kingfisher, but I sure enjoyed the scenery, like these stunted oaks.
Once I got to my assumed turn around point where the dike trail gate is normally closed in the winter and realized that I could just keep on running, I started to see wildlife. The winds were incredible, and all the ducks and other waterfowl seemed on edge. I saw dozens of mallards and this huge flock of American coots, some egrets, a great blue heron, and a couple of cormorants. The views are always so pleasant in the refuge, with marshes, bays, little stands of trees, and sand dunes on the ocean side of the dike trail.

By the time I reached False Cape State Park, it was fast coming up on 5:30. I had covered 5.3 miles from the start of my run. I could keep going to the state park visitor station, which would add 1.6 miles round trip. But if I did that, I would be coming out of the refuge for miles in the dark, which technically is not legal. So I decided to turn at this point, realizing that I would be in the dark no matter what for about 20 minutes even so. I figured that the 10.6 miles, plus the 1.5 miles running in the morning at the TNT Silent Mile, would give me 12 miles for the day - my training goal.

It was a really tough trip out. I was running into a stiff 25-35 knot wind coming out of the northwest as I ran mostly north. It knocked the snot out of me, with the wide open wetlands! Now and then, a little stand of trees gave a much appreciated wind break, though. The temperature was dropping, I had no warm hat or gloves, and no fleece. So I was genuinely chilled as I moved along into the brisk wind. I used to sail in a past life, cruising with joy along the rugged Maine coast in my 23 foot sloop. I would have hated to have been sailing in this kind of wind!

My pace kept slowing, and I probably dropped to a 12.5 minute average pace on the way out (including some time for photos, to slow to see watch deer, and to stop to see wildlife and the sunset) as I started taking longer walk breaks. I was tired, cold, and wind blown. I was also feeling some chafing. I'd brought my body glide down to the beach with me, but had forgotten to smear any on before running. And I didn't have a man's sports bra (two bandaides) with me, so had to chafe a little.

On the way out, still about 3.5 miles from getting back to the start, I was treated to an amazing sunset. I've posted photos below. The last mile or so of my training was in total darkness, which can be soothing, except when I startled a great blue heron in the dark just feet from me. I jumped a bit as it crashed into flight. I was tired as I came down the stretch, and probably walked nearly as much as I ran for the last mile. I felt like I had run uphill for the whole way back, even though it is flat as a pancake, because of the tremendous headwinds.

Sometimes I am a little hard on myself when running. It seems really difficult this time around. But thinking rationally, I had a rough last year in which I did almost no running. I had foot surgery 13 months ago. I had plantar fasciitis just after the surgery healed that lasted for months, often feeling like someone was driving a nail into my heel with every step. Even when I walked the Komen 3-Day in September, my left foot hurt with every stride for nearly 60 miles, though the pain was much less than before. So maybe I should cut myself a break. Hell, I may not get a personal record in three weeks at the Shamrock, but I have gone from almost no running for over a year to trying to get ready for 13.1 miles in just a few months. I know that 13.1 miles may seem short if you are in a car, but on foot, trying to run, it is a good long way to go. So just being able to do this race is worth something, even if I am slower than I wanted, as my training Saturday proved all too much. After all, my reason for plunking down 100 bucks to run the Shamrock Half Marathon was not to win the race, but to celebrate 10 years of surviving cancer this April. So in that sense, I can crawl to the finish line next month and it will still be a victory over cancer.

Here are the photos of the sunset:

Happy "15th Birthday," Nicki!

When one gets the awful and terribly sad news like I got yesterday about Faith, it is sometimes hard to remember the success stories. So here is an incredible one for today.

My friend Nicki had her "15th birthday" today. Nicki graduated from Mary Washington University about 12 or 13 years ago, and got married last year. Now, I am sure all that has you scratching your head - child prodigy, perhaps? - so let me explain.

Nicki was a healthy college sophomore when she learned she had non-Hodgkin's lymphoma. Although chemotherapy was expected to put her into remission, it didn't, and a bone marrow transplant was her only hope. And that was a slim hope - Nicki's chance of living, even with a bone marrow transplant, was just five out of 100! Well, she beat those odds. On February 27, 1997, Nicki, exhausted, sick, and weak beyond measure from bone marrow preparation treatment, received her life-saving transplant from a total stranger. What an incredible legacy and gift! Fifteen years later, Nicki is healthy and strong, and is a marathoner and half-marathoner many times over. Can you tell I am really proud of her?

On March 18, Nicki will be running the Shamrock Half Marathon in Virginia Beach with Team in Training, once again giving back so that others can someday have the same good fortune that she did. I'll be in that race too, if my sore knees hold out. I'll probably somewhere behind Nicki, though!

It is weird to think that had Nicki not had cancer or had I not had cancer, our paths likely would not have crossed. But she did, and I did, and they did. Speaking for myself, my life is the richer for it.

So, Nicki, happy 15th! May you have many, many more anniversaries of this date in a long, happy, and healthy life. You have inspired me more often than you can know!

Here is Nicki running in Saturday's TNT Silent Mile, and here is Nicki and me after running the Silent Mile together.

Cancer Claims Another

I wrote a week or so about my friend Faith, and how her two year remission from Hodgkin's Lymphoma had ended. 90% of people getting Hodgkin's survive at least five years. With great sadness, I learned today that Faith will not be among them. Less than three years from her diagnosis, Faith passed away this weekend. Her sister Leigh has been with her this week as Faith's health declined. Having lost my own sister last May from breast cancer, I have at least some sense of what she is feeling.

I really hate cancer. In 13 months, it has claimed my friend Judy, my sister Ann, and now my friend Faith. I think back of first meeting Faith in the fall of 2009. She and I had met online and had exchanged emails for some months about dealing with cancer and Hodgkin's in particular. I finally met her in person at the Light the Night walk, joining her team "Faith's Hope". We walked again the next year, and she also joined me and several others in 2010 to cheer for the Shamrock Team. Now, here I am, preparing for Shamrock, and Faith is gone. She was a wonderful person, and will be missed very much by so many. I will honor Faith's memory in three weeks by wearing her photo during my run.

In two months, I will be a 10 year Hodgkin's survivor. Why couldn't Faith have had more time? If when you hear about Hodgkin's lymphoma, you think "Oh, that's a curable cancer," please remember that it is not always so. There is plenty more to do.

Dear Faith, rest well in peace. I shall miss you, and so much wish things had been different.

Faith and her beloved pal Henry In 2009, hoping for remission, Faith visited the Caicos with a friend to get some enjoyment after a tough fight with stage 4 Hodgkin's. It was great to see this photo of her enjoying life!

Silent Mile

Today, Team in Training had its Silent Mile Ceremony. Although I am not officially on the team, I was invited to come and speak. It is always wonderful to see the various teams - cycle, run/walk, and triathlon - in one place. In this case, it was the newly formed Summer Team. However, a couple members of the Spring team were there as well. One of these is my fellow-survivor Nicki, who has a big "birthday" coming up Monday. Nicki will be the subject of Monday's post. She and I will both be running the Shamrock Half Marathon in three weeks.

The last time I was at a Silent Mile for me, it was a big day - my birthday back in July! Yesterday, we had people present who have survived every one of the four major blood cancers - Non-Hodgkin's lymphoma, leukemia, Hodgkin's lymphoma, and multiple myeloma. One survivor, Paul, is currently undergoing chemo for CLL, had to get radiation for a tumor behind his eye, and is looking into a very risky bone marrow transplant, but he has not given up on the idea of riding 100 miles in June at Lake Tahoe! How's that for true grit? I always feel inspired by the stories of the survivors, and their bravery in facing their never-fun treatments.

After the speaking was finished we posed for a group photo, and then we were off to do the first mile in silence as remembrance of those who have lost their fight with cancer. 12 miles was on the training schedule for Shamrock yesterday, and that is what Nicki was doing. But I had a meeting in Virginia Beach at 2, and had to leave her after a mile and a half. I felt bad knowing she would be running alone that long. Of course, so would I later, but I would have rather run with Nicki. Along our route for that first mile and a half were signs reminding us of the mission, and I will share a few photos of these. Later this week, I will report on my long run Saturday afternoon in a wildlife refuge through what felt like a gale.

Rough Running

Well, with just over three weeks to go to a half marathon, I have to say that I don't really feel prepared. My trip to New York City this past weekend tore a big hole in my long distance running preparation. I did get in three runs of four to five miles last week, one this past Tuesday, and a three miler last night. The three miler felt pretty good, as did a run or two last week. But my last run of last week, and in particular, my Tuesday run this week, were real struggles. I ran by myself in the city after work, in areas with lots of hills. I had hoped my friend Lelia and I could coordinate schedules and I would have her companionship, but it didn't work out that way. So I was by myself with no one to chat with. For some reason, it seemed to matter more with these two hilly runs.

I did achieve a bit of a milestone last week though. While running across the "Nickel Bridge," I actually passed cars! Yes - I am not making that up - I passed a bunch of cars! Of course, once the police officer motioned them into the opposing lane to get around the accident, they passed me right back. And the hills that I ran brought my temporary sense of triumph back to earth.

My run Tuesday just seemed really rough. I enjoyed the setting very much, running through Maymont and then along the Northside Trail to the Nickel Bridge and back to the park from there. But I just seemed worn out and did way too much walking. I also swallowed a gnat, which about made me throw up when the damned thing kept struggling in the back of my throat. I felt discouraged when I finished. But then, I thought about it and decided that at least I did it. Slow is better than no. I enjoyed the nice scenery along the way, got some fresh air and exercise, burned a fraction of a millimeter off my waist line. Yeah, I walked a little more than I wanted to, but so what?

Honesty in Fundraising

Without fundraising, there is no point to Team in Training. For most of us, in order to be successful at it, we put almost as much work into fundraising as in to training. I've already discussed why I believe the fundraising to be efficient, and why it is not a scam. I've talked about how, even though it seems counter-intuitive, raising money to go to a "destination marathon" can bring in more money to the mission than can running a local event. I've talked about how some of our travel expenses to out of town events - a significant portion actually - are covered by the money we raise. Now, I will talk about honesty in fundraising.

A number of the posts on the running forums blasting, inaccurately in my opinion, TNT as a scam have no basis in fact and don't even attempt to use factual information. But here is one discussion I found that is critical of TNT and its honesty in fundraising that is thoughtful and analytical - not based on some personal rant. It is worth reading for anyone doing Team in Training. The main assertions are (1) that 75% of the money raised does not go directly to research and (2) participants don't disclose that they get a trip out of the deal. To summarize what the author, David Hays, says about the latter: Participants don't explain that that they are getting travel expenses paid - others are essentially paying their way to the event. While TNT does raise a lot of money for a good cause, TNT runners should fully disclose to potential donors that 25% of the funds directly benefit the runner.

Let's address the first point first. 75% of the money goes to the mission of LLS. Part of that mission is curing blood cancers. But there are other raised parts to the mission, which I have discussed here. So if you are doing Team in Training, just remember this distinction. Only about a fourth of the money raised goes to cancer research and cures. Another fourth goes to fundraising and administrative costs. The other roughly 50% goes towards patient services and to education and advocacy.

I've discussed the travel costs that are covered in the other posts referenced here at the start of this article. I don't think we participants go out of our way to talk about the travel costs. Maybe we should do that more. I personally think that as long at 75% of the money collected goes towards the mission, it should not matter whether the fund raising portion of the money collected goes to paying professional fundraisers or to rewarding a runner with a trip to a race for their hard work. The bottom line is that money is going to be spent on fundraising one way or another. But I agree we can be upfront about it. I did tell my potential donors about it, if not directly in emails then in conversations with them. I don't remember anyone having a particular issue with it, and if they did, they wouldn't donate.

Let me say this - I have never badgered anyone to donate. How many times do you get a phone call from a solicitation that just will not take no for an answer? I have, plenty of times. If people don't reply to my emails, I don't bug them. I do send frequent updates. If someone asks to come off my update list, I take them off with no argument and no abuse. If people donate to LLS on behalf of my efforts, I thank them. It is simple as that. I'll take that over being browbeaten into a donation by a phone solicitor who's company (and management) will get 15-20% of what I donated. And I will add that I have donated plenty of times to people doing TNT and similar events, and they have never badgered me, either.

When I next do TNT, I now have plenty of posts - with more to come - discussing the fundraising and where the money goes to that I can point donors to. And now, you can point your donors to these as well, should you choose. Be open and honest, and explain with some of the points I have brought up. If people don't like the idea of helping to pay for your trip to a race, so be it. I wonder how many of them would mind paying some professional fundraising company executive's 6 figure bonus instead?

I'll write about my personal experience with raising money for TNT and what percentage of my funds raised covered my travel expenses on my next post on this topic.

Faith in a Cure

(Note: please see my post of February 26 about the sad news of Faith losing her battle)

I've written before how Hodgkin's lymphoma is one of the more curable cancers, and is sometimes called the "good cancer." Well, if you are like me, a nearly 10 year survivor from this disease and living strong, I suppose you could call it a good cancer, although even that is a bit of a reach. For others, though, it is not a good cancer by any stretch of the imagination.

One of these folks is my friend Faith. She had stage 4 Hodgkin's lymphoma starting almost exactly three years ago. It was in her spleen, bones, and lungs. She went through many hellish treatments, raised an outrageous amount of money for Light the Night in 2009 with her Team "Faith's Hope," and went into remission near the end of the year.

But think about how difficult it is to kill cancer. You have maybe a billion cancer cells in your body if you have detectable cancer. If you are stage 4 like Faith was, maybe you have several billion malignant cells. During treatment, every single one of these cells must die. Let me emphasize that again - every single one must die! If even one such cell, lurking somewhere in your body, survives, it will begin to divide. And divide again. And again. Repeat that process enough, and suddenly you have a tumor - probably undetectable. Some cells split off and travel through the lymph or bloodstream, lodging in some hospitable spot deep in your body. Another tumor starts up. Then another. Before you know it, you are not feeling so well and get it checked out. And suddenly, you realize your days of being cancer free are over, at least for now. And the worst of it is, these tumors are probably dominated by cancer cells that are resistant to chemotherapy, since they came from cells that survived these harsh and miserable chemicals.

That is what Faith learned recently that she is facing again - stage 4 Hodgkin's lymphoma. And this time, her treatment will consist of a stem cell transplant after ruthless chemotherapy to destroy the cancer and her marrow. Right now, Faith is just trying to get through each day and night - the fear of the treatment, the misery of feeling so sick, the horrible migraines that she is experiencing. Her days are dominated by long and difficult medical appointments. I feel so badly that she has to go through this once more. It is very unfair, because once should have been more than enough.

I ran tonight, going four miles, trying to prepare for the Shamrock Half Marathon in just over a month. Ironically, just two years ago, Faith was there at this race with me and some other friends cheering for the runners. Running rarely feels easy for me. I struggle with it at times. But as I ran along tonight, I kept thinking of Faith and how difficult things are for her right now. Facing what she is facing makes any reasonable run easy by comparison. I wrote the other day how running by itself doesn't cure cancer. How I wish it could, because I would be willing to run a lot of miles if it would cure Faith and some other pals I have going through this nasty crap right now. But life doesn't work that way.

Even so, I have faith there will be a cure for Faith. She is determined to have her life back once again. It won't be easy - far from it. It will actually be hellish. One day at a time, Faith. One hour, one minute, one second at a time if need be. Stay strong, stay positive, stay brave, believe you will get through this, believe in yourself and in your doctors. I have faith in you.

As you go through difficult times in your life - unpleasantness at work, problems with kids, relationship angst, money issues - or even a tough run on a day you don't feel much like running - think of people like Faith and what their day is like. For most of us, our problems pale in comparison to someone facing stage 4 cancer. And if you are so inclined, pause for a second and say a little prayer for Faith - that her doctors will be wise, that she will stay strong and brave, that a cure will be hers someday soon, and that she will have her life back for many decades to come.

If You Don't Like the Weather, Wait a Minute!

Yesterday, I planned to go running with Team in Training, but my furnace was deader than Michael Vick's chances of being elected president of the American Kennel Association. Since I had promised to do a mission moment before the team run, I drove into Richmond to do that, then came home to try to line up emergency furnace repairs.

By a little after 1PM, I was able to get out for 10.5 miles of training. It was quite cool and very gray. I was cold but soaked in sweat. My nose ran like a broken fire hydrant. Then suddenly, about nine miles into running, the sun came out. I cast a long shadow as the sun beat down upon my back. It felt great.

I arrived back home, still in the sun, and did a five minute cooldown walk. By that time the sun was gone, so I went inside, traded my two soaked shirts and vest for a dry shirt and a fleece, and came back out to stretch. Was that a raindrop? Nope, just my imagination. How about that? Yep - a raindrop. Then another. And another. The sky was now the color of lead, and the wind picked up. I could feel the temperature dropping. I went into the house to finish stretching. I was barely inside when the skies opened up into a downpour. One minute later it was sleeting like crazy. A minute later, it was sleet mixed with snow. A minute later still, it was like a blizzard - heavy snow, the first of the year here in Ole Virginney, blowing sideways. The wind buffeted the house. All this in about a 10-15 minute time span, starting around 3PM. Oh, and did I mention the half dozen thunderclaps, a couple of them so close and so powerful as to shake the whole house? By 3:45 or so the snow had stopped, and by 4:45, the sun was out again.

During all that time, the furnace technician arrived, and the house was becoming warm! My checkbook? Noticeably cooler!

Are TNT Runners Curing Cancer?

As part of my continuing posts about why Team in Training is not a scam, I am going to write a couple of pieces about some good constructive criticism I saw out there about us. There were two comment in particular that were a little less caustic than some of the complaints I have seen about us Purple People. The first was this: "What does running have to do with finding a cure? The running is for yourself, it does not cure cancer - the only people helping the cause in the case of TNT are the donors."

True - running does not cure cancer. Nor does walking 60 miles in the Komen 3-Day. Would that it were that simple! In fact, when I am doing my fundraising, I actually emphasize that point to my potential donors. Without them, all I am doing is going for a long tiring run or walk. It is their donations and generosity that provides the ability for more research on cancer and potential cures, not me moving my feet. So there is a good bit of agreement on my part with that statement.

Where we differ is this: as I posted last week, there are many ways for non-profits to raise money. One of them, the one LLS uses with Team in Training and that many other organizations have imitated, is agreeing to do some kind of an endurance event and in return people will "sponsor" you by making a donation to the non-profit to support their mission. So while the running, cycling, and swimming in itself does not cure cancer, it indirectly inspires people to donate to that cause in support. We could argue whether or not they would have donated that same amount anyway even if you sat on the sofa with a TV clicker and a big bag of double-stuffed oreos instead of being up a 5:30 on a Saturday morning to run. I am guessing generally not, although I have no way to prove it. Maybe some would get a phone call or a flyer in the mail from LLS about its mission and be inspired to donate. But I rather doubt it. I get literally a dozen or more solicitations in the mail each week, and I don't even answer the phone anymore unless I recognize the number because of the barrage of calls requesting money. If I get an email solicitation from someone who I know is going to work their butt off to raise money for a good cause, I am more likely to check that out and donate.

Let's use my own case - in five TNT events and then the Susan G. Komen 3-Day for the Cure last fall, people have donated over $60,000 on behalf of my efforts. If I had never decided to go for it and see if I could do this - if as a cancer survivor I could do a marathon while asking people to donate (something that often feels uncomfortable) to a cause and being successful at it - how much of that $60,000 would have been donated anyway? How much would have been left on the table? Even if it was just half of it, that is $30,000 that got donated because I was willing to walk and run and ask. So while I acknowledge that it is the donors who are most important when it comes to helping the cause, I am not willing to say that they are "the only people helping the cause." That minimizes or negates the hard work of a lot of people, and I believe a good chunk of the money LLS receives through TNT would not arrive otherwise.

The other comment I saw that I fully agree with is along these lines: the commenter complained about people doing Team in Training telling him that "75% of your donation goes directly to cancer research." It is important for all of us doing TNT to remember that LLS has a number of different program areas. As the author of the comment wrote based on him checking LLS financial statements, the donations break down as follows:

Research - 25.2%
Patient / community Services - 27%
Public Health Education- 18.4%
Professional Education - 4.7%

Total - 75.3%

As I discussed here, the other 25% goes to the administrative and fundraising costs of LLS that any non-profit has.

Therefore, if you are doing fundraising for LLS through Team in Training, just remember that not all of the mission is funding research. 75% of donations go towards the mission, but not to research. Maybe we tend to over-emphasize the research components.

So are those of us doing Team in Training curing cancer through our running? Well, not directly, of course. But I maintain that we are a part of the solution by being the catalyst for people to donate to the cause of cancer research and patient support and advocacy. If I live long enough to see that all cancers are curable or at least manageable, I know I will feel that I played my own small part in making this happen - through my running and walking, through my fundraising efforts, and through the many direct financial donations that I have made to various organizations.

Double Digits at the Beach

I was at the beach last Saturday and did some miles in the afternoon - a total of ten, actually. It was my first double digit day running (with a good bit of walking) in I don't know how long. Maybe even since the Seattle half-marathon on June 26, 2010.

My original intent was to take my camera along and snap some pretty photos of running along the beach. But as I got ready to run around 3PM, the weather - which had been nice earlier that day, nice enough for a two mile hike - was threatening. So the camera stayed indoors and dry. Sure enough, about three miles in, the rain started coming down. It would have been easy to turn around at that point and make it a six mile day, but I kept going. Five miles out. Five miles back. Cool and wet. Once, I felt so tired that I took a five minute walk break, and I probably walked half of the last four miles back. I felt really slow for this training - 11.8 minute miles overall. But I did it. Double-digit day at last.

During the week, I ran and walked with my running pal Lelia Monday after work, walking more than running. We had a nice session through Maymont and the neighborhoods around there. Where else in Richmond can you go for a run and see a bison?

Tonight, I managed to get in five miles after work, including two laps along a wooded trail. During the second lap, it was pretty dark and I could barely see where my feet were going, plus the temperature was dropping like a stone. It felt like a pretty good run. I missed my goal of getting in three runs this week before Saturday, where I hope to go for 11 miles. But I did get two good runs in. With the race just five weeks away, each one is important.