Well it's in the books - Longhorn 70.3 Ironman 2010. I am now an IRONMAN and a TNT alumni. But this privledge does not come without paying a significant price. The course was fair but tough, especially the run course. With temps in the mid 80's, the last leg (running) proved to be my Achilles' heel. I finished the event only to find myself in the medical tent. After three bags of saline via an IV, a pre-cautionary trip to ER, and prayers of the faithful I was given an all clear. I didn't finish as strong as I liked, but I am glad to report I finished. My goal was to finish in under 6 hours, but fell just shy by 35 minutes. I am looking forward to a restful off season, and have my sights set on the 2011 season.

Thank you again for your confidence in donating to LLS through the Team in Training program.

Your friend.

Chris H.

Greetings:

This Sunday at 7:30 AM starts the Longhorn 70.3 Ironman. Since early June, our Tri team with Team in Training has met weekly to prepare for this endurance event. I am happy to report I have met my fundraising goal, and feel confident going into the event. My goal is to finish under 6 hours. I want to thank all of you for making a meaningful contribution to the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society. Our Tri team raised over $60,000.

I especially want to thank my wife and 2 children (pictured here) for allowing me to be away from the house to train. They have been longsuffering with me and my training schedule. I love them very much.

I will report back early next week with a final report on the event.

Thanks again.

Chris Hancock

Tri Team in Training Member

We are three weeks away from our endurance event, the Longhorn 70.3 Ironman in Austin, Texas. As we enter the last few weeks of training, it's here where the rubber meets the road. It's here, in the daily decision, that will effect your finishing time in a positve or negative way. What you drink, what you eat, how well you sleep, how hard you push in your training sessions or whether you attend weekly scheduled training, and if you cannot attend, if you work out at home - alone!

These quiet moments of decision, that no one sees, is what determines how well you finish. One of the best stories that brings evidence of this type of commitment are triathlete(s) Dick and Rick Hoyt. If you have never heard of their story, here's a short video (copy link and paste):

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dDnrLv6z-mM

Thank you for you all you do in the LLS drive to find a cure for Luekemia.

Hi everyone,

On Labor Day, we participated in the Austin Triathlon sponsored by Avia. The event was well organized with over 1,000 athletes competing, and offered two triathlon distances, Sprint and Olympic. Many of our Team in Training members tackled the Sprint distance, and a few the Olympic. For many of my TNT members, this was their last endurance event for the year, however, for me and other this was a stepping-stone to the Longhorn 70.3 Ironman in October.

The TNT training program had me well prepared. I can say throughout the entire event I never tired, and had the confidence to finish strong. Thank you TNT staff!

You can view the race results for the Olympic distance here:

http://results.active.com/pages/displayNonGru.jsp?orgID=216392&rsID=98541

More in the coming days!

Chris Hancock

In honor of USAF Major Jerry Self

Hi everyone, below read Deb Barkers inspiration and story…

In December of 1985, I was a young, full-time mother living in Louisville, Kentucky. I had a four year old daughter, Erin and a two year old son, Travis. My mother was retiring from 35 years of civil service and I was getting ready to travel to Washington, DC for her retirement. My husband Jim was keeping the kids and I was going alone. Erin had been ill off and on for a couple of weeks with very mild flu-like symptoms. I had planned to take her to the doctor as soon as I got back from DC. Kids to bed, pack, and off to DC the next day. This was 1985, so before cell phones. I got into DC late, my mom and I had dinner, got to her house late, and I didn’t call Jim that night. The next day we were up early and running errands. About midday, I called Jim at work. The person who answered the phone said the words that changed everything in my life, “he’s not here, he’s still at the hospital with Erin”. The panic and pain in my heart were more than I could have ever imagined. I got the number of the hospital, called, and got Jim. Erin had a nosebleed that wouldn’t stop and had woke up throwing up blood. Jim took her to our pediatrician, and he did blood work and sent them to the hospital. Erin was anemic and her spleen and liver were enlarged. They were going to admit her and do some more tests. Then came the second blow, “you need to get here as soon as possible”. To this day I’m not sure how, but I got a flight out that night and arrived back in Louisville late that night. A friend picked me up and took me directly to the hospital. Jim met me at the door of Erin’s room, kissed me, and said, “They are 90% sure she has leukemia. They’re going to do a bone marrow biopsy in the morning and will know for sure.” That night was long and terrifying. Erin had kidney failure, her blood pressure was through the roof, and they had her on a heart monitor. Somehow she survived the night. The next day they confirmed the diagnosis, she had Acute Lymphocytic Leukemia, ALL. That same day they started peritoneal dialysis for the kidney failure, and began chemo. In 24 hours our lives had been irrevocably changed.

Erin went into remission quickly, but the next couple of months were a trial. She had an infection and was in the hospital for two weeks. She had a reaction to the drugs, had a seizure, and was in ICU for several days. We spent Christmas and New Year’s in the hospital. It seemed that whenever they gave us a list of possible complications, she had most of them. Through all of this Erin remained bright and positive. When she felt good, she wanted to play, visit with her friends, tease her brother. There was no stopping her. Early in 1986 with Erin in remission our lives assumed a semblance of normalcy. Jim’s job transferred him to San Antonio, a huge blessing as this was home for him. Erin started kindergarten in the fall and our lives moved on. In February 1987 we went in for Erin’s year check-up and once more our lives were cast into despair. Erin had relapsed. I remember sitting in the doctor’s office crying and holding Erin. Her fist question was, “Mommy, we can still go to the rodeo can’t we?” And go to the rodeo we did, because in the end, life is the small triumphs and our family going to the rodeo together was a triumph.

Now we started over again. Chemo and hospitals, doctors, sickness, and pain. Erin didn’t respond well and never went into complete remission. Our doctors suggested a bone marrow transplant. Travis was not a match, but I was a three antigen mismatch. They sent us to the Fred Hutchinson Cancer Research Center in Seattle, Washington. We traveled to Seattle on Mother’s Day 1987 to start the next leg of this journey.

Surprisingly, the transplant went well without too many complications. I donated my marrow and hobbled across the street to watch them infuse it, a very anti-climatic process. She did well, the transplant took, and she got out of isolation and the hospital. We spent another 30 days in Seattle. We were going through her final physical to come home when the final blow came, the cancer was back. The pain of that moment was immense. Not only did we get that horrid news, but I knew we were out of options and in that moment, the doctors were telling me my child was going to die. What do you do? You gather her up and carry her home and plan how to love a lifetime in a few months. We went home, she had some chemo to keep her comfortable, and we enjoyed what time we had. On Thanksgiving Day, November 26, 1987 Erin passed away.

My daughter taught me many things; never give up, life is worth living to the very end, and enjoy every moment because you just don’t know what is around the next corner. She was wise beyond her years and graced us for far too short a time. In that short time she lived fully and had fun whenever she could.

Much has changed in 23 years. Survival rates for certain types of leukemia have passed 90%, treatments have improved, and patients are living longer with better quality of life. I am so thankful that progress is being made; it helps more than I can express that we are approaching the time when no more loved ones will be lost to these dreadful diseases. I know that we will reach that day and that I will get to see it because of everyone of you, my wonderful teammates. Thank you for all you do. GO TEAM!