Whenever I hear ‘No Pain, No Gain’, I flash back to my middle school PE class. A blue vinyl curtain separated the boys and their “manly” sports (from my peeks through the holes, it looked like maybe weight lifting) and us doing aerobics. I’m not sure if our PE teacher really thought Jane Fonda was the best use of our time, or just wanted to put on a video and ignore us.

As Jane in her impossibly high-cut leotard and awesome pink leg warmers wrapped herself into some kind of human pretzel, I said ‘You’ve got to be kidding me.’ Here’s a tip: if you have a room full of self-conscious pre-teens, the only think you can do to make them feel MORE awkward is to suggest they twist around and stick their butts in the air.

I looked around and noticed no one else was doing it, and I sure wasn’t going to be the first one.

“Come on, ladies!” our PE teacher shouted. “No Pain, No Gain!” On that day, the pain of embarrassment was definitely not worth the gain of looking like Jane Fonda. Especially if I had no chance of getting those leg warmers.

As I prepare to run my 10th marathon, that mantra has taken on a different meaning. It’s easy to quit. It’s hard to push through the pain. There’s no doubt, at some point during a marathon there will be pain. But I’m not sure if I agree with No Pain, No Gain. So, I turned to twitter and facebook for some running advice (after all, if it’s on the internet, it must be true, right?):

Amy F: If running a marathon or long run, you will always have some pain whether it be physical pain or mental pain...you push thru it to finish - you gain toughness and a better mental capacity to push thru it again and again.

Kim R : As with anything in life there's always pain but the outcomes far outweigh the pain...and for some reason you always forget the pain...

James H: I’m a bigger believer in "no joy, no gain."

John D: I differentiate between pain and suffering. Pain is bad and too be avoided. Suffering is to be cherished.

And then I got a message from Cashea. We first met in Nashville, standing in line for a bus to take us to the starting line of the Country Music Marathon. She was in between chemo treatments and bald as a baby. She finished chemo earlier this year, and then had a scare. Thank God, things look good now.

Before I ran Nashville, I knew there would be pain. But I told myself that I had gone through so much pain with chemo that in the end, it would all work out when I ran. Sure enough, the week before the race, as I sat hooked up to my IV, I told myself, once again, it will be worth it. As I crossed that finish line, knees hurting, stomach aching, nauseous and pained… it was worth it. To know I did what most people will never experience.

Our Chicago team is full of survivors. Runners that have lived through cancer. Runners who have lost loved ones. That’s real pain. It makes the aches in your knees seem just silly. I can’t speak for what those amazing people have gained from their pain. It’s cliché and callous to suggest they’ve gained anything from coming face-to-face with cancer. I just know I’ve gained so much encouragement from meeting and training with them.

Maybe that’s why we embrace that motto: No Pain, No Gain. Because if we can make it through the pain of training for a marathon, if we can make it through those days that seem absolutely, totally physically impossible… then maybe we can convince ourselves the pain we deal with in our lives will somehow end in a gain.

It’s the way I approach life. And those long runs. I suppose that makes me an eternal optimist. Even back in Middle School, I found the silver lining in those embarrassing Jane Fonda videos. I did find that hole in the curtain, after all.

Runners are a bit like elderly people. If you ask them how they feel, expect a litany of aches and pains. Expect an exchange of cures. Some traditional, some bizarre. The talk about out-of-whack IT bands, tight claves, and killer shin-splints is not about pity. It’s about desperation.

When you’re eight weeks from your event, you’re tackling the meat of your training: 16, 18, 20 miles. It’s the toughest time for me. The race (and the lovely pre-race taper) is still months away. All the short, easy runs are behind you. It’s time to man up or go home. It’s time to figure out if you can do this. It’s the time lots of runners get injured. At the slightest pull, pinch, twinge, cramp; panic sets in: will it derail your race? Usually no, sometimes yes.

So, in a flash-forward to what I’ll sound like in my eighties: my left knee has a funny twinge. I wouldn’t call it pain, just discomfort. Not enough to cancel my runs, just enough to make them miserable. I’m plunging into a full regiment of ice and deep tissue massage and (long-overdue) new shoes. I’m partaking in deep-breathing exercises and crossing my fingers.

And I’m placing an order for Thai wings.

Because, when you run with Team in Training, fundraising never slows down; even if you do. It also seems to be right in the “meat” of this training when you’re distracted and a bit overwhelmed that donations dry to a trickle. Everyone who was an easy target has already donated. You’re in a good place, but saying ‘almost there’ is too enthusiastic.

So, just like those long runs; you figure out a way to make it happen.

For me, it’s a food-and-drink fundraiser. Local restaurants have been amazingly supportive: Parish, P’Cheen, Highland Bakery, Grecian Gyro, Sinless Margaritas, Tin Lizzy’s, and Yoforia are on board to donate to the event.

In one planning e-mail, a PR rep wrote, “I hate cancer. I know too many people who have suffered from that horrid disease!” Mostly, it’s love that brings us together. Sometimes it’s hate. And when it’s a universal hate for cancer, I say, bring on the wings.

The Flying Pixies 7/08/10

I keep reaching back to let me hair down. Then, I realize I don’t have any.

The Great Haircut Challenge ended with a bang early Tuesday morning. If you missed the live hair chopping on 11Alive, you can watch the video here.

I took the new ‘do for a six mile trial run Wednesday morning and it was awesome! One by one, our Chicago Team is turning Pixie.

Mallory Chandler chopped her long locks seven years after her last chemo treatment.

Kim Rhame is still growing hers back after being treated for Non-Hodgkin’s Lymphoma.

Chashea Arrington just finished treatment last month, and is still mostly bald.

Watch out, Chicago, the Flying Pixies are headed your way 10/10/10.

Pixie Power 7/01/10

Pixie: (n) a fairy that is somewhat mischievous. Ooo. I like this already.

The Great Haircut Challenge ended last night at midnight. Over the last month, it raised $1310 for the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society’s Team in Training. JoJo, a long-time photographer at 11Alive that spouts wisdom, advice, and humor with ease has said repeatedly through this fundraiser “a woman’s hair is a man’s glory”. To which I reply: “If a man is depending on my hair for glory, he doesn’t have much going for him, now does he?”

My desktop now includes issues of “Short Hair” and “Short Hair Style Guide” magazines. I have just a few days to pick out the new do and I AM ABSOLUTELY thrilled. The change will be drastic. There will be raised eyebrows and comments. Not all of them will be good. I know this because I’ve been a Pixie before. But this time, I have ammunition I’ve never had before.

When they ask, “What did you do with your hair?”

I can say, “I cut it all off and raised more than $1300 for cancer research and patient services. It’s fundraising for the Chicago Marathon in October: my 10th marathon… what did you do with your hair?”

Maybe that definition of Pixie should read "somewhat mischievous, sarcastic, and/or spunky.” Yep, that fits.

Thanks so much to everyone that donated to The Great Haircut Challenge. We’re still working out details, but it looks like Chesley will do the first “chop” Tuesday or Wednesday around 5:15 AM live on 11Alive. My long-time hairdresser, Jem, from 313 Salon; will work on cutting it through the show and have it ready for a ta-da! moment by the end of the show. Details to come….

<-- some cuts I'm considering.

Now This is Getting Exciting 6/30/10

I probably would have joined Team in Training earlier, but I’m shy.

I can hear the snickers from here.

Anyone who’s seen me work a room, move into a new town, or show up on TV every day might call me many things. Shy would not be one of them. But when it comes to asking people for money, my palms get all sweaty. I hate it. I really do.

When I was in elementary school, and they had those fundraising contests, I never sold a thing. Not a single thing. I trace this back to my hard-working parents raising their eyebrows: “$9 for wrapping paper! And it’s cheaply made!” They were right. And my future as a philanthropist was shattered.

As an adult I understand it’s not about the cheaply-made, over-priced wrapping paper. It’s about the cause. And when you find one you believe in, you wipe your palms and dive in. I know there are people that have spent a lifetime raising millions of dollars for worthy causes that change and save lives. They write books and give lectures on how to fundraise. I have just two pieces of advice.

#1: Be persistent. As my dad, the salesman would say: ‘they worse they can say is no.’ Sometimes people really want to help, but just can’t. I understand. I’ve been there. While raising money for the TNT ING team, someone slipped a couple of dollar bills on my desk with a simple note “for cancer”. I never found out who it was. Those dollars meant a lot to me. But most people you know fall into another category: they can and want to help, but just keep forgetting. You have to remind them. Again. And again. Because you never know, when it comes to cancer, next time it could be you. Or them. And everybody knows that.

#2: Be creative. The Great Haircut Challenge falls into this category. It started as an off-hand comment. I didn’t really think it would work, but I learned you have to think outside the box, especially when you do more than one event in a year and you’ve already sucked your friends and family dry. I didn’t think I would raise $500 by the end of the month. I DEFINITELY did not think I would raise more than $1200 and be planning to let the weatherman cut off all my hair. But that’s where I am today. Because when you wipe your palms dry and dive in, you never know exactly where you’ll land. But it always seems to be some place good.

The Great Haircut Challenge ends at midnight June 30th. With seven hours to go, the “Pixies” (cut the hair off) are ahead $650 to the “Ponytails” (keep it) at $560. Vote with your donation on this page.

Great Haircut Challenge Update 6/21/10

Nothing makes you want to chop off your hair like ten days in a row of 90-plus temperatures. With nine days left in The Great Hair Cut Challenge, I’m itching to grab a pair of scissors (which would be disastrous, so I’ll leave it to the professionals).

I’d like to dedicate the final push of this fundraiser to one of my Chicago team mates, Kim Rhame. She’s part of the Pixie Club, but not by choice. Kim was diagnosed with Non Hodgkin’s Lymphoma on October 15, 2008. For six months, she traveled back and forth to Houston, Texas for treatment.

This week, she’ll pack her four kids into the car for a road trip back to Texas. While her husband and kids are hitting up the tourist locations, she’ll be getting a new scan. She shared her story with our fall Team in Training runners Saturday with a smile and a shrug. “It could be you. It could be anybody,” she said.

After our four mile run in the sticky heat last Saturday, I was lusting after Kim’s pixie cut. She’s a beautiful woman who can pull it off flawlessly. When I told her so, she shrugged and remembered her long, blonde, pre-cancer hair without an ounce of anger or wistfulness. She never planned to be a Pixie, but if she’s a member of the club, I want in.

The Great Haircut Challenge Ends June 30th at midnight. As of 6/21/10,The fundraising tally is $550 for “Ponytails” (keep the hair); $350 for “Pixies” (cut it off). Donate with your vote!

You're Letting Chesley Do What?! (6/9/10)

I’ve known 11Alive Meteorologist Chesley McNeil for a long time. We were both new at WGRZ-TV in Buffalo, New York six years ago. In a reunion of sorts, we now both work for the morning show at WXIA-TV. He is a great Meteorologist, an enthusiastic co-worker, and --most importantly--a really good guy. But I know he can’t cut hair. So, how did I end up agreeing to let him cut my mine?

“The Great Hair Cut Challenge” made it onto TV today. In case you weren’t watching 11Alive at 5:55 AM (and shame on you!), here’s the background: to raise money for the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society’s Team in Training, people are deciding what I should do with my hair: chop it all off or keep it long. This wasn’t my idea, but I like it. We’ve already raised more than $700 for a cause close to my heart, so I say bring it on!

One of our producers heard about The Great Hair Cut Challenge on Facebook and suggested we talk about it on the morning show. So, in between my 5:30 and 6:00 live hits, Chesley, Jill, Karyn, and I sat on the anchor desk and talked about it on live TV.

Chesley threw out an absurd suggestion: “How about you let me cut it?” And I said yes. He can chop off my ponytail, and then I’ll have my hairdresser clean it up. That’s *IF* the donations swing that way. Right now, the “Keep It” campaign has raised twice as much as the “Chop It”. BUT, we have 21 days left. As we gear up for election season, I’m reminded: anything can happen. Donate and Vote on this website. Just include a note with your donation on what way your vote leans!

The Great Hair Cut Challenge (6/07/10)

What is it with men and long hair? Perhaps they’re so concerned with losing theirs, they become so attached to ours. This is coming from the same group of people that take 3.5 minutes to get ready every morning. You know what I can do in 3.5 minutes? Pick out my shoes.

So, I was a little surprised when an 11Alive live chat inspired me to take a Facebook and Twitter vote on whether I should cut all mine off, and the votes were (almost) unanimously “yes”. I now know the “no” voters just kept quiet.

I decided to launch the Great Hair Cut Challenge. If I can raise $500 for the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society’s Team in Training by the end of June (I’m training to run the Chicago marathon in October), I’ll cut all my hair off.

But then (like every good story), a very good twist. One of my TNT teammates said he would pledge $500 to NOT cut off my hair. Well, that makes things interesting. So, now, new rules. You can donate to the “chop your hair” or “keep your hair” camp. (You can make a note when you donate on my secure fundraising website or just send me a note).

Whichever has the most money by the end of June will decide what happens. Either way, we’re raising money for a cause close to my heart, which is (obviously) the most important thing. Otherwise, I would not be blogging about something as insignificant as my hair cut.

Because I’m not a guy. I’m really not that attached to my hair. (But I’m glad you are, because I plan on making some money off of you to help pateints with blood cancer!)

(Me with short hair last year... in case that helps you decide!)

I Believe in a Cure (6/1/10)

Sometimes words are not enough. My camera is my outlet. I could try to explain why I’m running the Chicago Marathon as a member of the Leukemia & Lymphoma Society’s Team in Training. I’d rather show you.

VIDEO: Running Through the Grief

VIDEO: Running for Lindsay

In my years in local TV, I’ve profiled so many people with cancer. Like so many of you, I have friends, family, and co-workers touched by cancer. We always say that. “Touched” by cancer like it’s a gentle lover’s embrace. A 17-year-old girl losing her hair by the handful is not gentle. A 5-year-old boy and 7-year-old girl left motherless is not gentle. A 29-year old woman agonizing over test results is not gentle. And you know what? It really pisses me off.

So I decided to do something.

It’s easy to talk about the “BIG C” like it’s unbeatable, unstoppable, and scary as all hell. Sometimes I feel that. But then, every once in a while, I see we are landing major punches in the fight against cancer. I met a woman named Beth Hodges. Every day she takes a “miracle pill”, Gleevec. Most of the research for this drug was made possible by Team in Training participants. And that is tangible and real hope.

I believe in a cure for cancer. I believe the money to make that happen will come from private citizens determined to make a difference. This is my small way to make a difference. I need you to support me.

Thanks for believing in me and in a cure.

Julie