Wednesday, November 28, 2012
My Silent Mile Message
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!
Wednesday, May 30, 2012
Good Luck, Lake Tahoe Cycle Team!
I had lunch with your Team Virginia Coach, Susan, today, and she was telling me about your upcoming race, er, ride around Lake Tahoe this Sunday, June 3. It got me thinking about what an adventure the group of you is in for – 100 miles around a beautiful lake, all the ups and downs, peaks and valleys, tremendous scenery. You’ve trained so hard for this race, er, ride! You will need all of your training, grit, and determination to complete 100 miles in California on Sunday. It should be a wild ride, eh? All for a great cause – to help those enduring cancers, and to help develop more cures for blood cancers specifically, but for all cancers ultimately.
As Susan talked about your race, er, ride, it got me thinking about another more distant June 3, one that is important to me personally. For exactly 10 years from this Sunday, June 3, 2002, I took my very first step into the chemotherapy room to get my first batch of chemo for Hodgkin’s lymphoma. I had not trained for this. It was a surprise, a bolt from the blue that had arrived just weeks before. I didn’t feel ready for it. I didn’t want to get chemo – in fact, I dreaded it that first day, and that first week. As in your race, er, ride, there were lots of ups and downs, peaks and valleys for the six months I had to get treatment. Not much nice scenery though – leaning over the water in a toilet bowl is not quite a scenic as Lake Tahoe should be. At least I sure hope not, for your sake! But like you, I needed grit and determination – that feeling that I would take it one day, one hour, one minute, or if need be, one second at a time to get through it. That is what cancer patients need to get through such an experience, if they are lucky.
I was one of the very lucky ones. I survived, and am happy and grateful for this. And I am particularly grateful to have lived 10 years now, to the point where the awful experience of chemotherapy is greatly faded. But I also feel sadness when I think of some others who didn’t have my luck: your Coach Susan’s dad several years ago. My good friend, Judy, who died in January 2011 just four weeks after her multiple myeloma diagnosis. My dear sister, Ann, deceased exactly a year ago today after her four-year difficult fight with breast cancer. My friend Faith, dead from Hodgkin’s lymphoma – the “good cancer" – this past February.
You can see that there is still plenty to be done, and you are out there helping to do it. I wanted to be sure to thank you for all you have done and are doing, and to wish you the very best on June 3. I’ll be thinking of you, cheering you from afar, and wishing you all have a great race, er, ride! This 10 year survivor salutes you!
Go Team!
Art
Tuesday, March 6, 2012
A "Thank You" to Team Shamrock
To “Team Shamrock"
You’ve worked very hard, putting in lots of miles
In cold and damp weather, but usually with smiles
And now you can see that your goal's within reach -
In two weeks, you’ll take a long run at the beach
You’re up before dawn, running while it’s still dark
Meeting teammates and coaches for a run from the park
But it’s not about running, it’s more for the cause:
Ending cancers that kill without pity or pause
Others rise before dawn, but wake up filled with dread
For later that day, in a chair or a bed
Into their veins deadly poisons will flow
Will they live strong or die? Right now, they don’t know.
For those who can’t run you are running your race
Helping them reach the dreams that they desperately chase:
To live as survivors, to be healthy and strong
But for so many with cancer, the odds are too long
In the fight against cancer, you’ve now joined the ranks
We survivors, all over, give you our deep thanks
But remember, Shamrockers, as you fret about pace
It's not chip-time that counts but your time at the race!
I’ll be proud to be running alongside – well, okay, maybe behind sometimes – you in this race on March 18 as a nearly 10 year Hodgkin’s lymphoma survivor: thanks to cancer research and a lot of great luck. Thank you most sincerely, Shamrockers!
Thursday, April 28, 2011
Thank You, TNT Vancouver!
We humans have feared when cancer appeared
Well before long-gone days of Herb Hoover
But we’re one step closer to cancer disposer
Because of your work in Vancouver
You I must praise, for the funds that you raise
Will develop more cancer remover
With your every stride throw your chest out with pride
As you race for a cure in Vancouver!
You worked hard in training, whether sunny or raining
And are known as a shaker and mover
You’ve proved you have mettle, now go win your medal
As a champion out west in Vancouver
Progress can seem slow with a long way to go
But cancer soon we’ll outmaneuver
You’ve raised funds for a cure, you trained and endured
To prepare for your race in Vancouver
For the young girl with cancer you’ll help bring the answer;
In the process, I’m sure, you will move her
Survivors like me will give you cheers – three –
For you’re heroes this day in Vancouver!
Tuesday, February 22, 2011
Thank You, TNT Team Princess!
You’ve worked so hard – now go have a great weekend and a great race in Orlando. It sounds like a really fun race, lots of pink, crowns, and tiaras, I would guess. I know that if I were running it with you, I would probably have set up some goofy fundraising challenges - like running in a pink skirt for the right level of donations, or maybe running wearing a pink or purple tiara, something like that. So, have fun!
In gratitude for your efforts, I have written this rondeau as a token of my esteem for you. GO TEAM!
You race for cures in crowns of pink
And regal shirts - purple, I think!
For thirteen miles, a real princess
(I’d not fit in, I must confess,
Although I say that with a wink)
From this challenge, you did not shrink -
To help save lives poised on the brink.
You are a champion, and no less
You race for cures!
Let’s find the cures, unearth that link!
In cancer’s shield, we’ll find a chink !
So many now are in distress
But your hard work means more progress
Putting patients back in the pink!
You race for cures!
Art Ritter
February 22, 2011
Monday, August 23, 2010
The Purple Runner
"The Purple Runner"
In pre-dawn darkness, she stumbles from bed
She splashes cold water all over her face
She tries to remember the things her coach said
As she goes out to train for her upcoming race
The house is all quiet in the dead of the night
But he tosses and turns, wide awake in his bed
For he’ll receive chemo just after first light
And the pit of his stomach is filled with deep dread
It’s already hot as she runs down the street
Sweat flows down slowly and drips off of her nose
Lately she has had lots of pain in her feet
And she dislikes the feel of skin sticking to clothes
The poison flows in with a slow drip-drip-drip
His cancer is proving elusive to treat
Sometimes he's afraid that he is losing his grip
And he's feeling worn out and so totally beat
As the distance piles up she runs with a slight limp
"Just have hang in there a mile or two more"
Thoughts of ill people make her feel like a wimp
As she remembers who she is doing this for
The doc grimly walks in, expressing his fears
But he says “There’s more cures just ‘round the bend
So keep hanging on, maybe one or two years
And try to stay calm – that’s what I recommend.”
She runs past the sign for the medical center
Ignoring tired legs, she presses on and endures
She thinks of ideas to discuss with her mentor
To raise some more money for much needed cures
He gets in his car and moves slowly along
And drives by a young runner in her drenched purple shirt
"Will I run once again? Will I ever feel strong?
Or will I end up under six feet of dirt?"
Her sore feet have gotten her to her last mile
She is struggling a bit so she drops down her pace
She’s exhausted and hot, but she thinks with a smile
“This is not about running – for a cure I race!”
As he passes her by, he gives one last glance
On the front of her shirt, he reads “TNT”
He smiles as he thinks “I still have a chance!
That runner is racing for a cure for me!”
Saturday, May 29, 2010
Someone is Waiting
"Someone is Waiting"
Someone is waiting, but it’s not looking great
For their cancer does not yet have a cure
They tremble a bit as they ponder their fate
As they hope and they pray and endure.
Someone is running, or walking quite fast,
‘Neath a California sun, so brilliant and hot
After months of hard work their event’s nearly past
And they’re giving it all that they got
Some mother’s watching her sweet, young child die
There’s no cure in time for her daughter
All she can do is hold her and cry
In despair from the pain cancer brought her
Somebody’s climbing, deftly shifting the gears
They ascend, viewing Tahoe’s forests and lakes
For 100 miles, they have conquered their fears
And they found that they have what it takes.
Some researcher is observing the minutes tick by
Because science must be patient and slow
But every ten minutes one more person will die -
And their research has reached a plateau
Some athlete is peddling beneath a sky of bright blue
Past Carolina’s mountains and pastoral fields
The money they raised might just find one more clue
For a cure as cancer’s dark secrets it yields
Someone has donated, inspired by your grit
And their dollars join millions like a river
Because you kept going, refusing to quit,
More cures scientists will deliver
Someone is surviving, and to you they give thanks
Just as future survivors will do
To their list of heroes you’ve now joined the ranks
For commitment and seeing things through
Art Ritter
May 28, 2010
Tuesday, April 20, 2010
A Big Thank You to Country Music and St. Anthony’s Tri Teams
I know that several of you on Team Richmond are cancer survivors, and that others among you have lost loved ones to these awful diseases. And then there is Ed, originally on the St. Anthony’s Team, who is currently undergoing a tough battle with melanoma. So there is not a lot I can say that can match the personal reasons that you are doing this. I did want to say thank you, though, and that I know how hard you have worked to get to this point – fund raising and training.
To those headed to Country Music, I was there for the same weekend and same purpose a year ago. You will have a great time. Hopefully, it will be a tad cooler this year. Make sure you spend a few hours in the Country Music Hall of Fame. Special best wishes to Debbie and David from Team Richmond, who I trained with a few times this year.
For you triathletes, I always hold you in a bit of awe, and hope to be one of you someday. I just need to get a real bike, and learn to swim better. Okay, I need to learn to swim a lot better. And I probably have to learn how not to fall of the bike, and to understand those clickety-clack shoes you all wear. I’ve never been to Tampa, so I’d love to see photos and hear race reports.
For those of you who have survived cancer and are doing this for the first time since cancer, the feelings you will have when you cross the finish line will be incredible. For you to do something like this after surviving is an amazing experience, and a wonderful memory – particularly since you have used your recovery to help others. It is also an inspiration to cancer survivors everywhere.
So Team Nashville and Team Tampa Bay, go have a great time. You’ve earned it. For everyone of you, sincere thanks for what you are doing – for taking your time to make a difference in the lives of current and future cancer patients. For racing for a cure!
Monday, February 22, 2010
Thank You, Mardi Gras Marathon Team!
You are headed to the Big Easy for your race. But nothing about what you have done, or the people that you are doing it for, is easy.
It’s not easy to ask people again and again to donate, even to such a great cause.
It’s not easy to raise thousands of dollars at any time, but especially not in a down economy that seems to have no end in sight.
It’s not easy to train hundreds of miles, to get up early on Saturday every week, and run and walk miles – often in cold or wet weather.
It’s not easy to do a marathon or a half marathon, at any speed.
And it is certainly not easy to do what the people you are doing this for have done – to go through cancer treatments. And some of these people will die or have died from cancer, and if you have ever seen anyone go through this, you know it is incredibly difficult and painful.
The ultimate goal of all your hard work and sacrifice is more cures, better cures, and less awful cures. Just in my lifetime, I have seen a tremendous difference in cancer survivorship, and it continues to improve. Imagine the day – and it will come – when nearly all cancers are curable and you can say “I helped make that possible!” Can you imagine how that will feel? Maybe no one will ever call cancer the “Big Easy,” but someday people will not dread it the way we always have, because it will be curable most of the time.
I, and all cancer survivors, thank you so much for all you have done for this cause. Now, even though this is all serious stuff, go have fun! After all, you will be in New Orleans, and I would guess they still have Super Bowl parties going on! Have a great race, and thank you so much for your dedication to this cause.
GO TEAM!
Sunday, October 18, 2009
Thank You, TNT Marine Corps Marathon Team!
I hope you have an amazing time at the Marine Corps Marathon a week from today. While you run the race, think a bit about the people you are helping right now, and the lives that will be saved in the future because you choose to care. And take some time to thank and reflect on the sacrifice of the brave men and women of the US Marine Corps - past, present, and future – that this race honors.
I, and all cancer patients and survivors, thank you for raising money to fight blood cancers. Have a fantastic time running all over our Nation’s Capital! And GO TEAM!
I wanted to write some verse for you that more or less describes your marathon course, without writing 26.2 verses. So here goes! Thanks again!
From the streets of our grand Capital to Potomac River’s shore
You will run your heart out for a cause that’s well worth running for
First or last, it matters not at all, it’s the cause that means the most
All cancer patients give you thanks and applaud you coast to coast
Your long race starts out in Arlington where so many heroes lie
You’ll run north and cross the river soon, reaching Georgetown by and by
To the north and then back south you’ll run, gliding past the river’s shore
While you make a difference in the world, and laud the Marine Corps
You will run past Mr. Jefferson and past Mr. Lincoln, too
Up the mall past the white obelisk as you see this long run through
You will head west so you “beat the bridge”, run past Jefferson again
Through the efforts of you purple folks, cancer war we’ll someday win
On you’ll run right past the Pentagon; on that grim September morn
The attack upon our country’s soil left our nation so forlorn
Towards Crystal City then you’ll run, and then turn back up north
The mile back near the Pentagon will be your twenty-fourth
Then past headstones back in Arlington you will move your weary feet
You are gaining on the finish line and the feeling will be sweet
Team in Training teammates cheer for you in their purples, whites, and greens
As you near the great memorial that honors our Marines
For the race ends at the monument to the men who raised that flag
In their fight on that Pacific isle, where their courage ne’er did sag
In this war we fight on blood cancers, soon a vict’ry we’ll declare
It will happen thanks to folks like you, because you choose to care
PS: When I was studying the course map to write these verses, I realized that you have an incredible route to run. And I said to myself "I HAVE TO DO THIS RACE FOR TNT SOMEDAY!!!!!!!"
Thursday, October 8, 2009
Thank You, TNT Nike Women’s Marathon Team
It has been seven years for me now, since I was starting to head down the stretch during my chemotherapy. I guess that by October of 2002, you could consider that I was at about the 20 mile point of my cancer marathon, and was pretty sick and tired of it. But despite all that - maybe I had some denial, or maybe it is just a lack of common sense - all through chemo, I almost always had this expectation that things would turn out fine. It’s been since that time, reflecting on my experience and hearing the cases of so many people who didn’t have as much luck as I did, that I realize how tenuous and random surviving any type of cancer is. And that makes me realize how much work remains to develop cures that not only are very effective, but that don’t halfway kill the person who is going through them.
I bet this race will be a lot of fun. It is one that I hope to do for TNT before I hang up my running shoes some day. So I would love to hear comments back when you return home about what you thought. I will be thinking of you on the 18th as you run and walk all throughout a truly beautiful city.
When you start the race, and worry about how far you have to go – think of all those starting their battle with cancer that day, and how intimidating and frightening their race appears to them at the start.
When you are running up one of those steep hills that San Francisco is famous for – think about how those with cancer have to climb steep and difficult hills every day.
When you run past the Golden Gate Bridge – think of how the cancer experience bridges the patient from their pre-cancer life to life after cancer, often with continuing financial and medical difficulties.
If you are chugging along through one of the famous fogs of that area – think of the dense mental fogs that roll in during chemotherapy.
If the sun beats down on you with solar radiation as you run along – think of cancer patients dealing with the exhaustion and burns of radiation therapy.
If you have a tough five minute stretch when it seems difficult to keep going – think that during that time, one more American was just told “you have leukemia (or lymphoma, or multiple myeloma).”
When you are coming down the stretch and see the finish line, and break out into a huge smile – think of the cancer patients who never make it to the finish. And remember that your efforts, your fundraising, and your dedication will help more of them to reach that finish line in the future.
Thanks for doing what you have done! I hope you have a great time and a great race!
GO TEAM!
Tuesday, September 29, 2009
Thank You, Seagull Century Team!
Maybe you think that I am talking about a bike race, but I am not. I am trying to communicate what a blood cancer patient going through chemotherapy or radiation is experiencing on their wild, multi-month ride. And what a tough ride it is! Not everyone is lucky enough to finish this race, and when they don’t, the outcome is not a “DNF” in the results page, but an obituary.
But thanks to you, and to so many like you who are part of Team in Training, the race through the valley of cancer and over its the imposing mountains will become less difficult in the future. Your hard work, your dedication, and the fundraising you do will help level the hills and add an extra gear as people struggle through their difficult treatments. Just as many more people survive cancer now than did 10 or 20 years ago, so even more will be surviving 10 or 20 years for now. And you will have helped make that possible. I, and all survivors, thank you deeply for this.
You’ve done the hard work, the training, the long rides, and the all so important fundraising. Now it is time to go enjoy the Team in Training experience at an event with your teammates. It is your reward! I am in awe of your ability to cycle 100 miles! And while I doubt you will experience any hills in Coastal Maryland like the ones I described earlier, you just might encounter some wind. From my limited experience with cycling – mostly on old one speed bikes – wind in your face seems as hard as a hill. I remember once riding along the hard sand of a beach for about four miles. I decided to go into the wind, so I would have it at my back for the ride home. As I reached the end of the beach and turned around, the wind immediately switched 180 degrees, and it was literally like riding uphill both ways! I trust that won’t happen to you at the Seagull Century.
So, go have a great ride, and a great experience. Create amazing memories to tell your grandchildren and your great grandchildren about. And please accept the sincere thanks of this blood cancer survivor. You are making a difference, and it is appreciated.
GO TEAM!
Monday, September 14, 2009
Thank You, Augusta Half Ironman Team!
So to those on that team in Augusta – from Richmond, elsewhere in Virginia, or any other chapter – thank you for doing this, for raising funds to fight cancer, for making a difference. As someone who has never done a triathlon – my triathlon in the mountains a few weeks ago doesn’t count – I am amazed at your hard work and achievements. As a cancer survivor, I am alive because people like you, decades ago, raised money to go towards Hodgkin lymphoma research. There will people alive in the future because of you.
Have a great time in Augusta, you awesome team! I am thankful for your efforts, and appreciate what you are doing. Here is my tribute to you.
"To the Half-Iron Women and Men"
You’re not made of iron, but of bone, blood, and muscle
You’ve got grit and pizzazz, determination and hustle
You’ve worked your butts off, you’re trained to a peak
Cause your upcoming adventure is not for the weak
For in less than two weeks, in the land of the peach
You’ll go seventy-point-three – no stroll on the beach
First, in a river, you’ll swim over a mile
Now I’d thrash around, but you’ll swim it with style
Then back on dry land, on your bike you will jump
And for fifty-six miles, the pedals you’ll pump
A half-marathon awaits when you’re done with that task
You’ll endure it, though tired, and the pain you will mask.
For many with cancer must do their own “tri”
And the outcome determines if they live or they die
First “event” might be surgery with much cutting and pain
And the loss of some parts with scars that remain
Next “event” could be chemo, they’re exhausted and sick
For many a month, since this treatment’s not quick
Radiation, with burning, is the final “event”
Leaving patients quite ill, so worn out and spent
Still others, to live, must replace their bone marrow
Surviving, or not, with a margin so narrow
For they may reject, with “graft versus host”
Cells so vital for life when they’re needed the most
With your heroic efforts and the money you raise
You are helping so many, earning thanks and our praise
On that day we survivors for you heartily cheer
As you race your hearts out for a cause we hold dear
So down there in Georgia, do your best and have fun
As you race for a cure while you swim, bike, and run
I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again:
I hold you in awe, half-iron women and men!
Art Ritter
September 14, 2009
Wednesday, September 2, 2009
Thank You, Nation's Triathlon Team!
It sounds like a great course: 1.5K swimming in the Potomac River, 40K biking, and 10K running – including a run past my favorite Washington sight – the Jefferson Memorial. As much fun as I had running the Country Music Half Marathon last April, part of me wishes I was on your team for this race, doing my first triathlon. I know several great people that did this event last year and had a blast!
Of course, the only way you are getting this boy to swim nearly a mile in the Potomac any time soon is if I have a dive mask. And SCUBA gear. And I am being towed by one of those torpedo-looking things you see in the movies where the (pick one) terrorists or elite special forces troops are moving in for a surprise attack. But maybe in 2010, if I can get my act together, I will do this race or one like it. The idea appeals to me, and I really admire all of you for doing this tough race, and for raising so much money to help cancer patients and, ultimately, to defeat cancers.
When you think about it, many cancer patients also do a triathlon of sorts, except their events are not swimming, biking, and running. Their events have names like surgery. Chemotherapy. Radiation. Or maybe instead of one of these "events", the substitute a bone marrow transplant. Or a stem cell transplant. Unlike a triathlon, where one really hopes to be done with the race the same day that they start, a cancer patient’s “triathlon” can go on for months or even years. Their “transitions” often take place in hospitals. And when all is said and done, the outcome for completing their “race” is either life or death. For people with cancer, it is a very high stakes triathlon, deadly serious, and all too often, deadly.
But I believe, through your efforts, and the efforts of all the other “Purple People” now and in the past and future – raising nearly $1,000,000,000 to fight blood cancers so far - you are helping to tip the odds towards survival. There will be people alive in the future who would not have survived otherwise. They will not know you, but they will give thanks for you every day.
So thanks for making a difference, for working so hard as troops in this war on cancer. Go have a great time – you have earned it. Create amazing memories, ones that you will mesmerize your grandchildren with someday. When you get back I would love to get comments about your race. And I would also love comments giving advice about making the jump from being a marathoner to becoming a triathlete, because I hope to join your ranks another time!
GO TEAM!
Thursday, August 27, 2009
Thank You Virginia Beach Half Marathon Team
For anyone from Team Richmond, Team Virginia, or any team who will be in that race, I thank you deeply as a blood cancer survivor. I am alive today only because of cancer research and treatments, and you are helping to give others that chance. Thank you so much, and remember to enjoy the fruits of all that hard work you have expended since May. Have a great time at the race with your teammates, and remember to feel pride when they hand you that 13.1 TNT pin afterwards at the tent. You are checking in at the TNT tent, aren’t you? AREN’T YOU?
Special thanks to your coaches, mentors, and LLS staff that have worked so hard to help you get to this point. And thanks to each of you for making a difference. Have a great time!
"To the Virginia Beach Team"
You’ve worked so very hard, putting in lots of miles
In hot, muggy weather, but usually with smiles
And now you can see that your goal's within reach
In ten days, you’ll go thirteen-one at the beach
You’ve been out before dawn, running while it’s still dark
Meeting teammates and coaches for a run from the park
But it’s not about running, for you have a great cause:
Defeating cancers that attack without pity or pause
Others rise before dawn, but wake up filled with dread
For later this day, in a chair or a bed
Into their veins deadly poisons will flow
Will they live strong or die? Right now, they don’t know.
For those who can’t run you are running your race
Helping them reach for the dreams that they chase
To live as survivors, to be healthy and strong
But for too many with cancer, the odds are so long
In the fight against cancer, you’ve now joined the ranks
We survivors, all over, give you humble thanks
And remember next weekend as you fret about pace
It's not chip-time that counts but your time at the race!
Art Ritter
August 27, 2009
GO TEAM!
