The Things I Missed

Wow, today marks 11 years in remission for me from Hodgkin's lymphoma!  Here is a picture of me on chemo in 2002!  ;^)

This past Saturday, Team in Training did the Silent Mile ceremony for the Spring Team.  I was out of town, and so wrote something for Kate to read to the gathering.  Here is what I wrote for the team: "The Things I Missed."

Dear 2014 Spring TNT participants:

I was thinking about all the things I missed these last 11 years because of lymphoma. I never got to hike up Tumbledown Mountain in Maine with my wife and good friends, a trip we had planned to do together. I missed my friend’s fiftieth birthday party on the same excursion.

I would have loved to have been present at the birth of my granddaughter, to hold this sweet little bundle that day, filled with instant love for her. But I couldn’t, nor could I celebrate her birthday each year, watching her grow a little bigger each time.

I never got to go to Alaska to do that incredible marathon for Team in Training. I also never got to do marathons in San Diego and Arizona, and half-marathons in Nashville, Seattle, and Hampton for the same great cause – to raise money to help find and fund a cure.

My wife and I always wanted to go to Glacier, Grand Tetons, and Yellowstone National Parks, and also to Alaska. But we never got to any of those places together, all because of that lousy Hodgkin’s lymphoma diagnosis in 2002. Too bad, because it would have been amazing!

In 2007, my sister was diagnosed with breast cancer, and she died in May of 2011 from this awful disease. I wish I could have been there to give her some support and comfort. Likewise, I wish I had been around to celebrate her 60th birthday along with the rest of the family.

Speaking of birthdays, it would have been nice to have been around to celebrate my wife’s birthdays, and our wedding anniversaries, and Christmases. It must have been lonely for her.

And, it would have been amazing to have walked in the Susan G. Komen 3-Day for the Cure 60 mile walk to honor my sister’s memory – and to sleep in a pink tent! I hated to miss that!

Those are just a few of the big moments that I missed in the last 11 years. And when I think of all of the little day-to-day moments of joy that I missed as well, it is almost overwhelming. These little moments may not be earth-shaking, but they still help to weave the rich and colorful fabric of our lives. I missed so many things!

Now, the statements about the things that I missed are false. I actually did do all those things, and many, many more as well. But had my 2002 cancer diagnosis turned out differently, I easily could have missed all of them. Because of effective research on my type of cancer, conducted years before, I had such a great chance to survive. However, many others don’t have that same chance. You, by your sacrifice and hard work, are giving hope to others who don’t have much now: giving them the chance to build their own great memories, just as I was able to do!

I want to thank you for all you are doing for this cause, and for tackling such a tough challenge. I wish I could have been here with you today at the Silent Mile, my 11 year remission anniversary weekend. But up in Pennsylvania, I will be (silently) cheering for you and thinking of your efforts and sacrifice. Thank you so much!

Art

Richmond Send Off

My Team in Training event for this year, the Crawlin' Crab Half Marathon, is now more than a month in the past.  But the people I trained with were not all doing that event.  A few of them ran the Nike marathon in San Francisco, but the largest number of my teammates are running and walking the Richmond Half and Full Marathons next weekend.  This is billed as "America's Friendliest Marathon," and from what I hear, it is a great one to do.

Last night was the send off for the Richmond Marathon Team, held at Capital Ale House not two blocks from where I work.  All of us were invited, so I went, of course.  It was great to look around at the excited and happy faces.  For many of them, this is there first half marathon or marathon.  There were a few nervous faces, too.  But they will be just fine once they cross the start on November 16.  They are racing for whatever their personal reasons to run or walk this race are, but they are also racing for a cure, and I am very proud of them!  They are a great group of women and men!

Inspiration Dinner

One of the biggest things about race weekend with Team in Training is the inspiration dinner the night before.  At all my other events, these have been huge, with hundreds or even thousands of participants and their guests.  Our dinner last Saturday was tiny by comparison, but just as important.  First, before dinner, we walked around a bit and enjoyed views of the downtown Hampton, Virginia waterfront.

 After having a nice Legend Brown Ale draft - and toasting the memory of my friend Ed Stone - in the hotel bar, I went to the Inspiration Dinner.  First, I ran into some of the coaches and mentors waiting to escort us in and cheer for us.  Here is me with Coach Cheryl, who I wrote about the other day.

Then, there was Coach Chuck, our surprise guest coach from Richmond.  I was thrilled to learn Saturday that he would be making the trip down.  Coach Chuck is the best!  I wrote this ode to him after he coached our excellent team in Nashville, TN back in 2009.

Then there was a mini-gauntlet of clappers and cowbells, which is always cool.  The first time you experience this, at a huge TNT dinner, it is almost overwhelming.  This group was small but enthusiastic.

After this, the dinner went on, with recognition for our five fundraising "Rock Stars" (people who raised at least $2,700 for the event), a slide show of our honorees (all too many of which are no longer with us), the dinner, and our guest speaker, Chris.  Chris was the lifelong friend of Ed Stone, who we are especially trying to honor with this race, to be held on his birthday, October 6.  It is still hard to believe that this strong and determined young man is no longer here.  Chris gave a great speech about some of this memories of Ed, and of why the raising of funds for cancer research as we are doing is so vital.  Ed was a huge champion of LLS and Team in Training, having done over 20 events, I think.  We also got a handout with photos of Ed, and on this, I am honored to say, was the poem I wrote about Ed a few days after his death, "When I Think of You, Ed."

Our mini-team, Sisters Stone, consisting of Ed's widow Leslie and his two sisters Lorri and Meg, raised over $16,000 collectively for this event.  What a way to honor Ed's memory and his devotion to this cause!  Leslie also rang Ed's special cowbell to cheer us on!

After some information about the race and a reminder to meet in the morning at 5:45, our dinner broke up.  I went back to the room and finished getting my gear ready.  I snapped photos of the front and back of my race shirt, honored with the names of so many people who have suffered from cancers.

Then, I relaxed and read for a while, then hit the sack.  As is my tradition, I would get a terrible night's sleep before my race - never fails!

Send-Off!

Well, I am down to the last few days of my latest Cancer Kickin' Campaign!  We had our team send-off last night at Legend Brewing Company, a place I don't get to often enough but enjoy when I do.  I like having a mug of their brown ale while sitting out on their deck with the great view of the Richmond skyline.

Send-off is where our team gathers to get our race shirts and last minute instructions from our coaches prior to the event.  It is also a nice chance to socialize.  Everyone looks different to be in regular clothing instead of running clothes, their heads not covered by hats.  We have a really small team, and not everyone showed up, but those that did had a good time.

It felt sad to see Ed Stone's name memorialized on our purple shirts.  It will be his birthday Sunday and that is the whole reason that I picked this race.  Otherwise, I would have done the Nike in San Francisco.  Ed fought cancer so hard, did everything he could to live.  It was just not meant to be.  On Sunday, his widow Leslie and two of Ed's sisters will be racing together in his memory.  I know that it will be a really tough day for them.

I did my final training yesterday, getting in four miles before work.  It was the last running I will do before Sunday, because my knee felt pretty good and I want to take it easy.  I will do some walking of course, just a few miles here and there.  Mostly, it is important to rest the week before a marathon or half marathon.  I still plan on trying to run some of the race, although I've not trained enough with running to make more than a token running effort.

My Silent Mile Message

On Saturday, our local TNT groups will do the Silent Mile once again.  I wish I could be there, but I cannot be.  So I wrote something for Kate to read to the group.  Here it is.  If you, too, are engaged in Team in Training (or some other cure for cancer fund raising) right now, then this is for you as well - so, THANK YOU!


Remission Accomplished! In December 2002, nearly exactly 10 years ago, this was the message I received from my oncologist. For anyone going through treatment for any type of cancer, this is the news they want so badly to hear. Doctors are reluctant to say “cured,” but they will say “remission,” or “NED” (No Evidence of Disease). These were among the sweetest words I have ever heard – sweeter than if I were to learn that I had won the half a billion dollars Power Ball this week (although that would be a close second).

Chemotherapy is tough. In my life to date, it is the hardest thing I have gone through. It was tougher than my three marathons and three half marathons – even the marathon in Alaska in a pouring, cold rain with mosquitos the size of small airplanes. And keep in mind that compared to some other cancer patients that I have heard about, my cancer treatment was like a first-class vacation on a tropical island – complete with one of those drinks with the little umbrella sticking in it.

I am very lucky to have reached 10 years remission from Hodgkin’s lymphoma, and I plan to keep on going. I feel like I have a lot of living yet to do before I see my last sunset and hike my last trail. Yet, I know that there are no guarantees. I know people who say, “If I had to go through chemo again, I would not do it.” I don’t feel that way. I would not want to do it again, of course, but I would. But if I ever have to, I hope that it will be easier the next time around because of people like you – people raising money not just for a cure, but for a cure that doesn’t make you feel so ill that sometimes you don’t focus on getting through the day, but just through the next minute. Where your stomach does flips so spectacular that a Cirque de Soleil performer would turn green with envy. Where your brain is so foggy that the light from an explosion from a Chinese fireworks factory wouldn’t cut through the fog. Where you go into the ER in the middle of the night, and the doctor suggests that dynamite just might be required to get things moving again. (“Give me the paper to sign and light the fuse!” I told him).

From this cancer survivor, and on behalf of the thousands going through cancer therapy every day, thank you for what you do. Thank you for having our backs! Thank you for racing for a cure!

Relay for Life Survivor Walk

Last Saturday, I walked the first survivor laps in the American Cancer Society's Relay for Life.  I went at the request of my friend Bill, who is about 9 months into treatment for metastasized colon cancer, and on his second round of chemo after two surgeries, the second of which was really rough.  It was a very hot afternoon, upper 90's, and I found myself glad that I was not walking laps all night like some of the folks would be.  I didn't raise money for this great cause, but came out for a little bit to walk as a survivor and support Bill.  As things turned out, he was too wiped out to walk more than a partial lap due to the heat and his exhaustion from chemo.  It's 10 years after cancer for me, and I feel very grateful to be able to still be breathing and moving.

The main speaker, an ovarian cancer survivor, lost her sister to leukemia a couple of years ago. I could relate to her experience, as a survivor myself (not ovarian cancer, in case you are wondering) and also having lost my sister a year ago. I wanted to post a few photos from the night, and publicly thank those who walked the walk that night after raising a lot of money for this cause.

Here are Bill and I before the walk.  I like the new purple shirt and the new purple "survivor" wrist band they game me.

 People set up tents and canopies inside the "track."

 "Team Joe" walks along in the 97 degree (in the shade, which they are not) heat.

 I used to work near here and often walked around this lake at lunch.  It is about 1.25 miles as I recall for a single lap.

 One of the speakers told us: "Take a minute and go down to the lake.  Throw in a pebble.  Notice the ripples you create.  In the same way, when you do some positive thing, small or large, it has its own ripple effect."  So I tossed in a pebble and reflected on the ripples it created.  I wonder what ripples I have created with my life?  I wonder what ripples I have still to create in the (hopefully) years ahead?

A Great Honor

I've done a lot of things over the past seven years for LLS and Team in Training: five events as participant, and a sixth season as a mentor.  Speaker at numerous meetings to recruit volunteers and at kick-off.  Cheering at events.  Light the Night three times.  But until Saturday night, when I addressed the "I Love the Tavern Triathon" Team, I had never been the honored speaker at a TNT inspiration dinner.

If you have attended an inspiration dinner for the Team, you know they can be pretty massive and inspirational events.  This one was a lot smaller.  Instead of addressing hundreds of participants, there were 15.  But that was fine.  It was my great honor to speak to such a fine and dedicated group.

So what did I say in my 10 minutes of fame?  I talked about how I found out that I had Hodgkin's lymphoma 10 years ago, and what the treatments were like.  I tried to interject a little humor by recounting my story of the ear hair that wouldn't die.  I spoke of why it is so difficult to cure cancers, and although I was a lucky survivor, there were many more who never make it.  I spoke in particular of three people in my life who have passed away in the last 18 months: my friend Judy from multiple myeloma in January 2011, my sister Ann from breast cancer in May 2011, and my friend Faith from Hodgkin's lymphoma this past February.  So there is plenty more to do before we can consider cancer defeated.  Then I closed with these three thoughts:

1. You never know if and when your life will change radically, as mine did 10 years ago.  So enjoy the good times while you have them, and seize as many days as possible - starting with completing the triathlon the next day.
2. Someday, all cancers will be curable or at least manageable.  When that day comes, each of them can smile, knowing that they all had a part in that.
3. As a 10 year cancer survivor, they had my sincere thanks.  I can't thank the people who figured out 30, 40, or 50 years ago how to get most people to survive Hodgkin's lymphoma, but I can thank them.

I don't know if this fine team was inspired by my talk, but I am sure inspired by their hard work, dedication, and courage to tackle a triathlon while trying to make a difference in the war on cancer.

Silent for Ann and Faith

This morning was the Team in Training Silent Mile ceremony.  I am always inspired by this - always!  About eight or nine of us survivors spoke, relaying tales of courage and endurance.  In particular, Robin's tale of fighting back after the loss of her right leg two years ago to cancer and Ed's story of his continuing fight with melanoma (after dealing with leukemia at 19 and two other cancers since) were moving.  As Ed put it, tongue in cheek, "cancer can be the gift that keeps on giving!"  My talk was easy, for 10 years ago today, I was preparing for my first day of chemo the next day.  I tried to prepare mentally that June 2, that beautiful Sunday 10 years ago.  I took a little hike in the mountains, knowing it would be the last time for a while, and wondering just a bit if it might be my last one ever.  There is no certainty or guarantee when dealing with cancer.

We also paid tribute to the Tahoe cycle team and the San Diego Marathon team, in action this weekend on the west coast.  After the talks, we walked, ran, or biked the first mile in silence.  It is a time to reflect on why we do Team in Training, and those who have fought the good fight but are no longer with us.  As I walked, I thought of my sister Ann, dead from cancer one year this past Wednesday.  I listened to the wood thrushes singing in the woods along the road.  She loved this bird's song, as do I, and I felt the connection to her.  I miss her so much!  There are days I feel as if we just haven't talked in a while - after all, we had lived nearly 500 miles apart.  And then the reality hits, and hits hard.  The reality that as much as I wish, I will never see her again, at least not in the flesh.  All because of cancer, something that started with a single cell gone haywire that could not be supressed.  It sucks.

I also thought of my friend, Faith, who died in February.  She was so young, 42 or 43.  She died from Hodgkin's lymphoma, the same thing I had 10 years ago.  She should have survived.  She should still be here.  90% of Americans with Hodgkin's survive 5 years.  I've lived for 10, so far, and hope to keep going.  Faith lived only for three years.  Faith came to one of our Silent Mile celebrations two years ago, and she did a mission moment for me on a bitter winter day's training in 2010.  She was a special person, so gentle and caring, and missed by many.  One more grieving family.  One more too many.  So for the last part of that mile, walking along with a little running for the first time since the 10K two months ago - when I wore Faith's photo on my shirt - I thought of Faith and how badly she wanted to keep living and enjoying life.  It is so unfair.

In the afternoon, Faith's dad and sister came up from North Carolina and had a memorial get-together for Faith's Richmond friends.  While I was there, I learned that they will have a Light the Night team on October 27 in memory of Faith.  Faith was so proud of the awesome job she did with her LTN team "Faith's Hope" in 2009.  I walked with her on that team, and I walked with her the next year with Light the Night.  So I plan on walking on Faith's memorial team this fall.

Silent Mile Message

The Team in Training Spring Team has formed and is having a silent mile, like the one last July, today. Unfortunately, I can't be there, but I asked Kate to read something from me. Here is what I submitted to her.

I wish I could be here today to say hello and more importantly, to say "thank you." Yesterday marked a big milestone for me, my nine year remission anniversary from Hodgkin's lymphoma. Yes, nine years ago, I was celebrating finally being done with six months of chemo, one of the hardest things I have ever been through. I was eagerly awaiting a CT Scan in a few days, which would turn up no evidence of cancer. It was a thrilling time, but also a little sobering. A couple weeks before, in the chemo room for the last time, the man next to me nearly died when they tried a tiny dose of a new kind of chemo on him. For a few minutes, doctors and nurses frantically ran around the room like ants at a picnic. "I'm sorry," the oncologist said to the man and to his daughter after they revived and stabilized him. "That new chemo clearly isn't going to work for you, and there are no other options left for you because the current treatment isn't working at all." Imagine getting that message just before Christmas or Chanukah. Here I was, getting ready to return to my regular life and hopefully feel healthy again, while at the same time, this guy three feet from me was essentially being told to get his affairs in order. He was about the same age that I am now, which still feels far too young to die.

I've tried to do a lot of living in these nine years. Nine more birthdays and wedding anniversaries. Get-togethers with family and friends. Trips to Alaska, Yellowstone, the Grand Tetons, and Glacier National Park. Lots of great hikes. Lazing at the beach with a cold drink. Being there when my granddaughter was born. Being a comfort to my sister Ann as she fought, and lost this spring, her four year battle with breast cancer. None of this could have happened for me without research that figured out how to effectively fight Hodgkin's lymphoma, at least most of the time.

When I had cancer, I was struck by two concepts. The first was that if I indeed survived, I owed my life to people who came years and decades before me. They were the patients who suffered horribly; they were the nurses who tended to them; they were the doctors who tried new things and made observations; they were the medical researchers and the biochemists and the geneticists who figured out what would work and not work. And they were the people who provided funding for medical research. Without their efforts, I'd be pushing up daisies - or as I like to say with the Shamrock Marathon coming up, shamrocks - right now.

The other key concept was that when I was well and healthy again, I wanted to do something to make a difference, to pay it forward, to help others. I wanted to be one of those people that cancer patients, when reflecting on their survival, would be thankful for. So another thing I have done in my nine years of earnest living has been to participate in Team in Training five times, and also, most recently, the Komen breast cancer 60 mile walk. And by virtual of your participation in Team in Training, you are also one of the people that future cancer patients - unknown to you - will thank. None of us can cure cancer by ourselves - even the greatest doctors and medical minds cannot. But just as tiny rain drops, one by one, will form a mighty river, so too are each of you helping to create a flood that will one day wash away incurable cancer. So from this cancer survivor, in absentia, thank you so very much. And - GO TEAM!

Silent Sixty

Today was the Silent Mile get-together for the Fall Teams for Team in Training Richmond, Fredericksburg, and Charlottesville. The cycle, marathon, and triathlon teams all gather for this, and coaches talk about some of the things that the money raised is going to. One of the ladies on the Richmond team has already raised over $11,000, which is amazing! Then some of the patient honorees say a few words of thanks, and every one does the first mile or so in silence - reflecting on the mission, the goal of curing cancer, and those fighting the hard fight to survive their ordeal. With my sister's recent death, I was reminded of her over and over again this morning. I listened to the wood thrushes singing in the forests along the route. It was one of her favorite birds. I miss her so much.

It was also my Big Six-O today, and so I got a card signed by many present, and also there was a "Happy Birthday" poster made by the LLS staff. That was pretty cool. What a great bunch of folks to see on my birthday morning. I decided to try walking a bit, and walked almost five miles with my friend Nicki. She was married a couple of months ago, so I got to hear about her wonderful wedding. Afterwards, there was a potluck breakfast, which was really good. It also felt good to walk this far - the longest distance since I got plantar fasciitis nearly three months ago. I've come to the conclusion that I have to start walking and just see where it leads, with a sixty mile walk only 10 weeks away.

Here is my birthday poster, using a photo from my last TNT event, the Seattle Half Marathon in June, 2010.

Let's kick cancer's butt!

Some of the team starting out on the "silent mile:"

Reminders of why we work so hard to train and raise money:

This poster, with Coach Chuck in the background, features a message from my friend and teammate Ed Stone, and from yours truly. Ed is currently battling melanoma, his fourth bout with cancer at age 41.

Nicki and I first met through TNT about five or six years ago. She is a 14+ year lymphoma survivor, alive by means of a bone marrow transplant. She is awesome!

TNT Silent Mile

I've had a horrible cold this past week, but still went to the Silent Mile yesterday for the Spring and Summer teams. I'd hoped to walk or run a few miles with them, but just felt too bad from the cold. Several us who have survived cancer spoke to the teams and thanked them for what they are doing to help raise money for patient support and for blood cancer research. We also learned what types of things the money raised by the Virginia Chapter can accomplish.

I got to see some old friends for a few minutes, and that was a bonus to going. At the end of our talks, the teams trained their first mile in silence in honor of those dealing with cancer, and in memory of those who have lost their lives to these awful diseases.

Ed (black cap) talks to the team about the importance of the mission. He is a 20+ year leukemia survivor, and has dealt with other cancers 4 times since, including a current fight against melanoma that has left him struggling to walk again using a walker. He is always positive and always a total inspiration.

Mindy (second from left) is a TNT two-time alumni who will be walking in Vancouver in a few months. She is also a multiple myeloma survivor who's brother (left) was her bone marrow donor. Her daughters and husband are justifiably quite proud of her, as am I.

Reminding us of our mission:

Robin lost her leg to bone cancer last summer, 30 years after surviving bone cancer in the same leg. She is here with her son and husband, and with Ed and his wife Leslie. Robin is another total inspiration, and will be walking the Mounment Avenue 10K in three more weeks, just 8 months after losing her leg!

Yeah - let's stomp out cancer!!!!! Who's with me on that one?

Join the Spring Team!

I was asked to speak at a Spring Team Information Meeting next week, and was looking over the wonderful events for Team Virginia. So I thought I'd have a bit of fun mashing them up in a poem:

Would you like to stay fit, make new friends and do good?
Well, here’s the most beautiful thing –
What if I told you there’s a way that you could
By joining the Team for the upcoming spring?

Come join Team in Training, we’ve five great events
You’ll train and you’ll matter, achieve and endure
All while you are raising dollars and cents
To fund the ultimate goal: blood cancers’ cure!

Would you like to compete at a race that is near?
Then the Shamrock Marathon would be mighty keen
At the end of the race you’ll enjoy stew and beer
And you’ll see lots of folks oh, a-wearing the green

You could run like a princess with a tiara of pink
Don’t worry buff guys, manly men are allowed
From the crowds at Walt Disney you just might catch a wink
And when you cross that finish, you’ll feel really proud

Or have yourself an adventure in the Canadian West
When you race for a cure in scenic Vancouver
The money you raise when you give it your best
Will help LLS fund more “cancer remover!”

Running’s too tame? What’s this that you say?
Well, does TNT Virginia have something for you -
St. Anthony’s Triathlon down at Tampa Bay
You’ll swim, bike and run – now that’s quite a coup!

Or how about "America’s Most Scenic Bike Ride?”
Cycle one hundred miles as you circle Lake Tahoe
You’ll be tired at the end, but bursting with pride
As you finish a distance few people can go

So what are you waiting for? Get the show on the road!
Believe in yourself, know that you can do it
Go have an adventure in a brand new zip code
While helping with cures – it’s time to get to it!

A Hot Silent Mile

Yesterday morning, the fall marathon, triathlon, and century teams from Richmond and Charlottesville - along with patient honorees and others affected by cancer - gathered at 6:30AM for our twice annual Team Silent Mile. This is always moving, as we hear from so many people affected by cancers of all kinds - many survivors and then also those who have been affected through the cancers of friends and family members. The most poignant yesterday was Robin's story. She survived cancer 30 years ago at age 18, and learned last week that she has a secondary cancer that was probably caused by radiation received to save her life so long ago. Her choices - have her leg amputated mid-thigh or have the femur removed and replaced with an artificial one. This will be followed by six months of chemo. It really sucks to hear about stories like this. Cancer sucks! What a choice - lose your leg or go through all the pain and misery of an artificial bone. Both choices have major drawbacks. I feel for this fine person. It is so unfair. She has been an athlete all her life and continues doing triathlons for TNT, and was training for the Nation's Tri. Now, three people will do a leg in her honor. Ed will do the swimming, her husband will do the biking, and a good friend - who's wife has brain cancer - will do the run.

Lanie's story was also sad. She is a young woman with a very lethal brain cancer. She is doing well so far, but it has been tough. She clearly has a great spirit. Both Lanie's and Robin's names were on my Seattle race shirt last month.

It was a hot, hot day, already 80 degrees at 6AM, and it reached 105 yesterday. I walked 3.5 miles with my friend, teammate, fellow Hodgikin's survivor, and fellow marathoner Kristi, and it was great to catch up. Our first mile was done in silence to honor and remember those who fight this fight against the beast. Here are some photos of the morning.

The big combined team gathers in a circle prior to getting started:

Four time cancer survivor Ed (blue shirt), who recently lost part of his left foot to melanoma, talks about his experience.

The runners start to leave the area and head out for the first mile in silence.

Members of the walk team walking in silence

Cycle and/or triathletes passing the walkers

LLS staff has put out numerous posters about the mission along the first mile. Here is Kristi posing by one of these:

And here am I, in my green Seattle half-marathon shirt. It is hard to believe that this event was four weeks ago already!

Holly and Amy from the triathlon team cycle towards us. Holly is the mom of Emma, one of our February Miracle Girls!

The Kick-Off That Wasn’t

My very first event for Team in Training was 2005, and our team kick-off was cancelled because of a storm. It wasn’t until I spoke as a survivor at another team’s kick-off later that year that I realized what we had missed. It is a great chance to meet your new teammates, coaches, and mentors, learn more about the mission and your part of it, and get whipped into a fever pitch of enthusiasm. If, that is, more than one person shows up.

Our summer team is small – there is no denying that. We have seven (fundraising) participants on the cycle team, and many of them are actually coming in on the spring team which had already formed. We have four triathletes, and eight on the run / walk team, including me as a fundraising mentor. That is a total of 19 people, of which exactly two – me and one more half-marathoner – showed up at kickoff. We had a coach there from each sport, and our fabulous LLS coordinator, Cate. We all sat around and chatted for a while, waiting for the others to show up, and no one did. So eventually we just all talked to the newcomer, Nancy, about getting started with fundraising and training. As kickoffs go, it was pretty much a dud and very disappointing. Hopefully everyone just had stuff going on, and once we all get out there with our sports, enthusiasm will grow. All’s well that ends well, and even though our summer team is off to a slow start – plus a big storm may cancel first training this Saturday – hopefully we will all end up as an awesome team!

Nancy, the person that showed up, is pretty amazing. She just got diagnosed last month with CLL (chronic lymphocytic leukemia), right out of the blue. This is a very slow growing blood cancer and there are no real cures right now. It says a lot about our new teammate that one of the first things she did after getting this shocking diagnosis is to join our team as a half-marathoner, having never raced before. I think it is her way of fighting back and making her own difference in the world. One of the reasons we all do this is so that the difficult cancers, like CLL, ultimately are curable. So I pray that Nancy and others like her will one day soon get a direct benefit from her efforts on our team.

Kick-Off Tonight!

Wow, kick-off for the Summer Team is tonight! We have one more information meeting just before kick-off, one last chance to add new recruits for what promises to be another great season with TNT. Well, there is one more chance next week - an alumni reunion to recruit for the San Diego marathon with its incredible fundraising deal. I'll be speaking at the info meeting tonight, and wearing two hats so to speak - as a cancer survivor and as a Team in Training mentor and veteran.

It is exciting to have another kick-off, this for my fifth event! GO TEAM! I hope that it is a big team, but even if not, it will still be great!

Spring Team 2010 Breakfast

Today was a fun morning with the spring team. It was somewhere between frigid and colder than hell, but by the time we all gathered for a team breakfast at Kitchen 64, the cold start felt like history. Swan Lake was frozen over for only the second time I can remember since I started Team in Training in 2005:

Faith, a recent stage 4 Hodgkin lymphoma survivor, come out on this cold Saturday morning to tell our team her moving story as a mission moment. Faith, as I blogged before, didn't just sit around while enduring chemotherapy - she got involved in Light the Night and raised thousands of dollars. Here are Faith and I, both HL survivors, just before training started:

Today was the first time in over a month since I managed to see the spring team. They are a great group of people, they truly are. And today, we did one of my favorite training routes: across the James and along Riverside Drive. Here are three of the walk team on the Boulevard Bridge - Coach Kristi, Angie, and Mindy:

The views of the river along this route are beautiful:

I did about seven miles today, counting two laps around the lake. Mostly I walked, but I got in a mile or two of running on the way back. Here is another view of the James from further along the route:

There are four major types of blood cancer. This group of six of us involved with the Spring Team have survived all four types between us. Everyone of us has or shortly will have done a marathon, half-marathon, triathlon, or 100 mile cycle event, all as cancer survivors. So if you or someone you know has cancer, take heart! You can not only survive, not only regain health, but you can regain strength and endurance. From left: Ed (leukemia survivor, as well as three other cancers), Barb (multiple myeloma survivor), Art (Hodgkin lymphoma survivor), Mindy (multiple myeloma survivor), Kristi (Hodgkin lymphoma and thyroid cancer survivor), and Nicki (non-Hodgkin lymphoma survivor)

We survivors humbly and gratefully thank everyone anywhere doing Team in Training or are involved in some other way in the war against cancers. Included in this group is the Richmond Spring Team, some of whom are pictured below: all warm and content with full bellies. GO TEAM!

Summer or Fall?

Well, Spring Team is pretty well out for me, kind of. So it is between summer and fall. If I do summer, it would be the Tahoe Century Ride or the Seattle Marathon, both in June. Technically, Tahoe is both for the summer and spring teams, just those that selected it with the spring team got a great head start on fundraising and training. If I did Fall, it would be The Nations Tri, Nike, or the Tour de Tucson. Oh decisions, decisions.

You may note that many of those choices requires a bike. I have determined that my bike is not going to cut it for even a triathon, much less a century. So that could be a factor if I choose spring. A bike and all the crap you need with it is a pretty big expense right smack in the middle of winter / Christmas. Not to say an economy that still sucks, with more rumors of layoffs where I work.

What to do, what to do? Fundraising wise, I would prefer to do summer, and get started with it in about a month. But I could do fall, as well. It would just mean a longer gap between events. A big part of it will be personal and family preference, conflicts with potential vacations, and so forth. I want to decide within a week or two, because if I do spring, I will want to start preparing for fundraising shortly, during a very busy time of year.

If I can't make up my mind in the next few weeks, it will probably be fall. The upside of that is that I would have several more months to get a bike, save money, and see where the economy is headed. So if I stay indecisive, it will probably be fall. If I get decisive, it may be spring.

No bad choice, just lots of choices.

Spring Forward

Last weekend, we fell back as we retreated from Daylight Savings, but Wednesday evening, we sprang forward. That’s right, Spring Team had its final informational meeting and then its kick-off!

The team is small so far, but hopefully will grow. Come to think of it, it wasn’t a huge team last year either, but we did good things. The turnout wasn’t tremendous for either meeting. Something like 20 people had signed up for the info meeting and maybe 10-12 showed up. And at kick-off, other than coaches and mentors, only about 8-10 participants were there. But I know that others on the team could not make it, so once training starts it will improve.

All of us who work hard for this cause are a little discouraged about it, but it is what it is. Fundraising is not easy under the best of circumstances, which these hardly are. But clearly, people can raise the money, and will raise it if they start early, develop a good plan, work with their mentor, and do something every week towards implementing their plan. But when you are looking at needing to raise $3,000 or $4,000 in an economy with 10% unemployment, it may not feel doable, even though it very much is.

My part on the team, other than speaking at the meetings, is as mentor captain. I guess I mentor the mentors, even though they don’t need a lot of mentoring. I haven’t ruled out a spring event, or a summer one either. There are a lot of options. My friend Nicki is mentoring and running the New Orleans half-marathon on the 13th anniversary of the bone marrow transplant that saved her life as a 20 year old. It would be fabulous to do that with her. Or I could branch out and do the St. Anthony’s Triathlon in Tampa, or the Lake Tahoe Century bike race in June. Both of those would require a bike, but they would be a step towards earning that Triple Crown. Or I could take the route of my fourth full marathon, in Seattle, a city I’ve never been to. I like to combine a little adventure with TNT.

As always, we have a great bunch of coaches and mentors, and of course the participants are always fabulous people. A couple of them have already raised $350 - $500. At least a couple of them have compelling stories. There’s the young woman who recovered from non-Hodgkin lymphoma a year ago, thanks to drugs developed in part with LLS funding. There’s the woman who will be doing her first triathlon who lost her husband, and her young daughters losing their father, to leukemia six years ago. Evil, evil diseases! We need to be as relentless as cancer is to defeat it.

I’m Lighting the Night!

On October 29, I’ll be walking in support of the Virginia Chapter of the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society in the Richmond version of Light the Night! As a blood cancer survivor, I will be walking with a white balloon in a sea of red balloons. I have joined a LTN team: Faith’s Hope. This team was formed by a local lady named Faith who was diagnosed this spring with Stage 4 Hodgkin Lymphoma, and is undergoing heavy-duty chemotherapy as we speak. Faith has raised over $5,500 for this cause while battling cancer, which I think is pretty amazing, and I am honored to join her team.

I just joined up for Light the Night today, and therefore won’t have time for a little while to customize my Light the Night page, which can be reached at:

http://pages.lightthenight.org/va/Richmond09/ARitter

After being done with fundraising for Team in Training for just four months, I am not going to do heavy duty fundraising for a Light the Night Campaign. I just can’t. Friends and family would shoot me, assuming that they stayed around long enough to shoot me. More likely, I would walk up to them and say “Hey! Guess what? I’m fundraising for the Light the Night, and I was wondering ...” Suddenly, I would realize that the only sound was crickets calling, and that I was by myself. I would notice my friend, now appearing no larger than an ant in the distance, sprinting away with a running pace that Usain Bolt would envy.

Of course, if anyone seeing this is led to make a donation, that would be great. But I am doing this primarily to support LLS in spirit, to support Faith, and to walk proudly as a fortunate and grateful survivor of a blood cancer. If I can somehow raise a couple of hundred bucks along the way, then that would be a wonderful exclamation point to my Light the Night experience. But that will not be the focus of my efforts. I’ll be happy to be out there among hundreds or hopefully thousands of others, showing support for a great cause and for the many, many people dealing with blood cancers.

The Silent Mile

Today was a Team Richmond first – we did an all-team training with a silent mile. The run/walk, cycling, and triathlon teams all met this morning, and survivors of cancer all told our stories in brief. Then, for the first mile of training, we did not talk and some of us survivors held signs for the rest of the team.

Not being a part of the fall team, for me it was almost like a little training reunion. I know only a few of the cyclists, but many of the triathletes, because so many of them started as runners. Several of them were on my very first team, the summer team of 2005 when I trained for my first marathon. So it was great to see so many old friends on this hot, muggy day.

Fellow Hodgkins survivor Kristi and I held our signs as some of the marathon team went by, and then we started walking together. I am a fast walker but Kristi is amazingly fast, so she slowed down a bit so I could keep up. We walked 6 miles, which felt really good. I had not seen her since we did the Nashville half marathon together. To give you an idea of her walking speed, she walked it in something like 2 hours and 54 minutes, not running a single step for 13.1 miles.

We chatted a lot about our next event, but I will write a separate post sometime later about that.

Here are some photos of this fun day with all the teams together for a little while.


Nicki, my friend and teammate - and a real inspiration to me - and her mom Sue - both cancer survivors.

From left: Amanda, Susan (my "Triple Crown Friend", little Emma, Emma's grandma, and Emma's mom Holly. Emma had leukemia at age 10 weeks and is now 10 years old yesterday. Susan, Amanda, and Holly were all on my first team and are going to be doing a half-ironman triathlon in five weeks.


Some of the survivors who were there and who spoke at the start. Everyone of us, including little Emma, has done one or more marathons, triathlons, and/or 100 mile bike races as cancer survivors. From left: Art, Rob, Emma, Nicki, Kristi, Ed, and Paul.

The whole team for all sports was a nice sized group.

Kristi - a double cancer survivor - walks along on our route.

Leslie and Coach Betty walking as part of 9 miles this morning.

Three amazing ladies - Holly, Jen, and Amanda - will all be doing a half ironman in five weeks in Augusta, Georgia. That is 1.2 miles swim, 56 miles bike, and 13.1 miles running. I am in awe of them and their teammates. Holly and Amanda were on my first team in aught-5, and Jen was our LLS team coordinator for my just past season. They are all tremendous!