Racing to Save Lives

Why did I decide to do this?

It was listening to a father of a 9 year old girl discuss all the great things Disney and Hannah Montana did for his little girl before she passed away from a rare brain cancer. It was hearing him talk about driving to work, passing her grave site and going there for lunch so he could be with her. It was listening to my friend Nancy tell me she has breast cancer and has to have two surgeries. It has to do with the fact that I want to pretend my own two aunts don't have cancer. It has to do with my first inspiration, my grandfather. It's because one of my favorite professors, who educated during the day and entertained later with the accordian, was diagnosed with lung cancer and then passed away 3 weeks later. It has to do with a class mate who gave birth to her daughter, was diagnosed with cancer, and passed away a year later, leaving her one year old motherless. It's because of a beautiful woman who lost her life a week after she was to get married. It has to do with my friend who lost her funny fiance. It's for my friend who lost his father a few months ago. It has to do with the man who pushes himself week after week with agnozing workouts because his life is a mess after the love of his life died only months ago. It has to do with the man who rides with me Tuesdays and went to France to drink wine and escape from his own news. And to think this is only the beginning of the list.

And yet, it is only because of my mom.

When I sat next to my mother while she was sick, I wondered what could I do that was more than a marathon. I did a marathon for my grandfather and that was fine, but it wasn't enough for my mother. My mother deserves, of course in athletic accomplishments, an ultra Ironman. One Ironman is a 2.4 mile swim, 112 mile bike ride and a 26.2 run at the end... that is not far enough to show how great my mom is and it's not something I probably will ever manage to do. But a lazy man ironman! Now that is something I just might be able to do.

On September 26, I will be riding 100 miles in the Tri-State Seacoast Century Ride with the Team In Training program, a fundraising campaign of the Leukemia & Lymphoma Society. I� will be riding by the ocean (which my mother loved) and will be riding through Massachusetts, New Hampshire and into Maine (where my mom acquried many childhood memories during the summers she spent there with her family which helped her escape while she was getting her chemo).

On November 22, I will be running 26.2 miles in the Philadelphia Marathon.

I hope to swim 2.4 miles on my niece's birthday, December 12, but that is yet to be decided. It's on the agenda, but when I will be able to do it is another question.

And I hope that is far enough for you to consider making a donation for the Leukemia & Lymphoma Society. One of my favorite parts of LLS's mission is that they remember the family which is very important to me, because I know nobody goes through a cancer diagnoses alone. It's the whole family. It's the friends. It's the neighbors. Everyone goes through it together and that's why I invite you to be part of my journey. I'll be doing the riding, the running, and the swimming, but I'll be taking each and everyone of you with me.

I can keep going on, but I know all too well that everything has an ending and this too must come to an end.

Thanks for your donation! I know it'll make a difference.

Lots of love and healthy days!

What my mom's friend wrote about her

It is with a heavy heart that we at Evisions have to say goodbye� to a great friend, Betsy Oswald. To even try to write something about what Betsy embodied is almost impossible. All of us at Evisions grew to love her for just being Betsy!� She was incredibly smart, always adventurous, and ready to help anyone who needed anything at all. There was no ego with Betsy. In spite of being one of the smartest people any of us have ever met she was always so humble. There were too many things to list that she did on her own time that were so thoughtful. She did those things out of love. That�'s the kind of person she was. We cannot even think of Betsy without having a smile on our face. She had such a great sense of humor. In fact, John Tong, who worked for Betsy said the title of this should be:

In other news -- it was noted that Prayer processing in Heaven has increased by 47% due to a database overhaul by a new arrival! ;)

We will never forget Betsy and how much she meant to us. In fact, we will be officially naming our training center the �Betsy Oswald Training Center�. For those of you who knew her and are an Evisions client can attest � Betsy would never say IT CAN�'T BE DONE� when asked about a tough problem and always found a way to make things work!! To say she was our hero would be such an understatement.

The Family: Why This is Also for My Dad...

This is also for my dad. He didn't have cancer. He never heard the terrible words directed to him, however, I can't think that he is his own personal survivor. He took care of my mom when she was sick, better than I could ever thank him for . He drove her to the chemotherapy sessions, picked her up on time. He took care of picking up her medicine, schedule her doctor visits. He stood by when she lost her hair and eyelashes. He took care of the rehab place and the insurance and got her to stay longer. He learned physical therapy and used it on her even when she really didn't need it. He wore a face mask when he had a slight cold so that he wouldn't get her more sick. He purchased copious amounts of grape juice believing the antioxidants would do her good. He paid the bills. He arranged the funeral arrangements agonizing over the guest list and the song choice and was there when she took her last breath. He was the one who was so exhausted at the end, he probably felt like he complated an ironman, but he never complained, tired, or stayed away from what he just needed to do. I, of course, loved and admired my dad before my mom got sick, but I have a deeper respect, admiration and love for him witnessing the way he took care of his loving wife when she needed him the most.

... and For My brother. My sister.

This is also for my brother and for my sister. Each weekend, my brother came from Boston and my sister came from Wilmington so they could be with our mother. They would talk to her, tell her stories about work, feeding her lunch, dinner making the pureed food and non-ending servings of mashed potatos as appetizing as possible. No matter how tired they were from the constant travel or wanting to have a weekend free, they came to be with their mother. They showed amazing support and I feel so lucky to be their sister. So this is also for them.

Does Cancer Hurt

No, I didn't write the following, but the honesty of it struck me. I remember how my mom's cancer hurt me and how there was one time I didn't even have the power to stand. Maybe you guys know the writer, Leroy Sievers, who covered his own cancer journey on NPR. An amazing writer who didn't hide from anything, I share his words with you now. I hope you enjoy it. He had an amazing gift and has many more stories to share. Check out his website: http://www.npr.org/blogs/mycancer/

I've never felt my cancer. I know it's there � the doctors have told me so and I've seen the pictures. Bright white spots on the otherwise grey and black scans. But that's really the only way I know I have it. I've never had symptoms from the cancer itself.

Recently, one of my colleagues asked a very basic question, one I'm surprised hadn't occurred to me before.

"Does cancer hurt?" A simple question, but not a simple answer.

Five years ago, my cancer was detected by a routine colonoscopy. It was a total surprise. I didn't have any symptoms back then either. The operation to remove it certainly hurt, or at least the recovery did. I had a line of staples down my stomach a foot long. I remember the nurse saying that removing them wouldn't hurt a bit. Well it did hurt. I mean, c'mon, they're pulling staples out of your stomach with a staple remover that's only slightly fancier than what you'd buy at the store. And the recovery was painful too. But the cancer? Never felt it.

Didn't feel it this time either. A brain tumor and tumors in my lungs. Brain surgery was painless, too. Turns out, your brain doesn't have pain sensors. Of course, I had another line of staples, just shorter than the first one, down the side of my head. And yes, those hurt a little, too, when they were pulled out.

The chemo has made me sick, but again, no pain. I know that's not the case for everyone. Many cancers cause incredible pain, but not mine. I have a very high tolerance for physical pain anyway. Over the course of my life, I've been beaten bloody with clubs (by the Chilean army, if you're curious), been tear-gassed and hit with water cannons. I've been shot at, shelled... even had people throw dynamite at me.

Now some of those things hurt � a lot. But does cancer hurt? You bet. It hurts in ways that transcend physical pain.

That first diagnosis is like a knife into your heart. That first bleak prognosis? That's a punch to your stomach. Waiting for the results of a scan? Water torture � slow, agonizing, excruciating.

It hurts in the dark hours of the night, when you're alone with your thoughts, and you have to confront the idea of your own death. It hurts when something simple reminds you that you may not be around in six months, a year, whatever. It hurts when you think about the things you're going to miss.

But that's not the worst of it. Cancer spreads the pain around. You see it in the tears of a friend when you tell them. You see it in the eyes of your doctor who knows that in a few seconds, he has to give you bad news. You see it in the eyes of your loved ones, friends and family, who want so much to help, but can't, and who are so scared for you and scared of the loss that your death will bring.

So to answer the question, "does cancer hurt?" I haven't felt a thing � except for when it hurts so badly you can barely stand it.

From A Friend Who Just Started Treatment for her Hodgkin's

So I just wanted to give some encouraging words to the team. Please let them know that I'm doing ok. Chemo has been alright so far, I haven't had any bad events since my first session last week and I'm hoping it stays this way. Other then that, please let the team know that I am very grateful and thankful for everything that they are doing right now. It's been tough this year and I know how bad things can get, but if we all work together we can find ways to make changes happen. In the meantime I will stay strong and also fight my battles. To LLS - thank you so much for everything that you have done for me. I appreciate everything that has happened in my life and I'm looking forward to greater things in the future.�

She's so extremely beautiful, kind and has the most loving boyfriend. She was diagnosed back in December, but just started chemotherapy on April 13 and was so nervous about it. I can't tell you how proud I am of her. Granted, she has no choice if she wants to get better .... she has to do the chemo. But she's doing it and really showing amazing courage and dignity through the process. There's no way that I could not dedicate my race to her.

Honora, this is also for you!

Happy Anniversary, Daniel!

On April 21, 2009, Daniel, on of my personal honorees, celebrated his 20th anniversary of his diagnosis, at age 25, with Hodgkin Lymphoma. In honor of this personal milestone, he trained and finished a difficult 100 mile ride aroudn Lake Tahoe going up and down more hills than he'll like to think of. Congrats on the ride, Daniel! It's even more special, because during his training, he had some difficulties from his bike and from the prolong effects of this treatments those long 20 years ago. What a drag on both parts. But he has an amazign spirit and you would have thought he was just a little hiccup, nothing as drastic as I pictured it. I'm so glad I got to meet Daniel and know a man who accomplished an amazing athletic achievement. Lance could learn something from Daniel.

It's Not About The Bike

He kicks my butt each Tuesday morning we go out riding with Felix and it's kind of annoying. He has a bike that must be twenty years old, he purchased it at a flea market, (or was it Craig's List or one of those computer sauvy flea markets where you can buy stuff cheap) three years ago and it has to weigh at least 100 pounds. He carries his iron clad lock and his bag crossed over his body each ride, be it Tuesday or Saturday morning weighing him down even more. He's not interested in the mission moments, in Connection to the Cause telling me with a laugh in his voice, "I have my own connection - ME!" He ran off to France after his diagnoses and drank wine ... although I'm sure it wasn't as much as running away as I put it. But he's pretty cool, and another rider I'm just happy to be able to keep up with and be able to ride with.

But it makes me wonder, how do people react when they get diagnosed? Run off to France to drink wine? Be in the comfort of his family and friends? I know someone else who crawled up on her bed, snuggled with a blanket, and simply cried until she had no more tears. And then there is someone who terrified of heights, climbed a ladder, jumped to one swing, flew in the sky and dropped to the net beneath her. She signed up for Facebook, inviting others to write on her wall and "allowed the cancer to change her." All different and as powerful as these people are powerful.

Lance wants you to check this out. Be sure to have kleenex close by. (Yes, Armstrong!) For those that dont know about @fatcyclist story. Go to http://www.fatcyclist.com If you feel moved, write a note of support...

Those who I am Swimming/Biking/Running For

• My Mom
• My Dad
• Joey & Jenni
• Grampy
• Aunt Nancy
• Aunt Barbara
• Claudia & Julia
• Nancy G.
• Sy Resin, smart, sweet man
• Honora Kao
• Daniel
• Gerry's Daughter Timmaree
• Sweet Maria
• Laura & her mom
• Heather R.
• Dr. Tambur
• Dr. Kent
• Jana
• David
• Rebecca and Michael
• Funny, funny Terri who loves long walks only when the weather is nice