Shirts are IN! Donations are starting to trickle in, too!

Just a quick shot to show you just how enthusiastic these shirts are making everyone, even Leo!  Remember, read www.averageguyhitstheroad.com and donate $65 or more and get a shirt of your own!

Building a Team for Cancer, Training, and Life

When you are used to doing everything for yourself, your way, it can be tough to let people share your burden.  For many of us, myself included, there is a certain amount of satisfaction involved in accomplishing difficult things on our own.  I remember how disappointed I was to learn that the Sherpas did all the work when the westerners were taking all the credit for summiting Mount Everest.  I was bummed to learn that the world’s top marathoners really only set records when they have a team of pacers to block the wind.  In my mind (until recently) it was a point of pride to take on the biggest challenges solo.  How wrong I was.

Even Leo knows these guys need a team. (Don't worry, we don't usually let him watch TV.)

Accomplishing great things requires a great team.  That team can be anyone…family, friends, friends-of-friends, training partners, coaches, co-workers, and of course, a medical team that guides you through treatment.  There is nothing wrong with accepting help, and even asking for help or hiring help.  I mentioned last week that I joined a marathon training program here in Ann Arbor with Running Fit.  I know that it is the right thing to do, even if it is a huge commitment.  I need the structure, the support, and the technical assistance.  In my previous athletic endeavors (which were always doomed to failure) I relied only on books, the internet and my own brain to devise a plan.  Well, all I can say is that people pay personal trainers and running coaches for a reason…results.

I’m also beginning a regular training regimen for general wellness and strength at Sparrow Athletic in Kerrytown.  There I can work on core strength and general conditioning so that I can endure the rigors of my running.  I can tell after just a few workouts that I’m going to be a better, less injury-prone runner as a result.  In other words, with the help of others I have a better chance of doing something right for a change.  The most amazing part is that Josh, the trainer, is volunteering to help me and my teammates get ready for the half marathon we are running to raise money for the Wellness Community.

When we had Leo, dozens of friends came by with dinner, to help out around the house, and generally be of service.  Anyone who has had a child knows just how taxing (but rewarding!) those first few weeks can be, so we truly appreciated the help.  Just a matter of weeks later, when we found out Moira’s diagnosis…the dam truly broke.  Family and friends from far and wide wanted to help.  I was hesitant at first, but ultimately relented as we became overwhelmed in those early days.  I am so glad I did.  Our “team” includes so many people, and without them I know something critical could have been missed, the stress would have been unbearable, and we may have never known how genuinely good so many people really are.

So far in Moira’s treatment, we have had our capable oncologist, a spitfire surgeon, a talented and caring radiation oncologist, and an army of nurses and resident physicians. That is just the beginning.  If you ever have to go through cancer treatment, there are also social workers, volunteers, phlebotomists, therapists of all kinds, administrative personnel, and of course, our favorite UMHS employee, the Cancer Center parking structure attendant.  I’m not kidding. No matter how long between visits nor how long the line, he always asked (and meant it) if we were doing ok, and wished us a wonderful day.  He made a very real contribution, although I would never have thought that the parking lot guy would play any kind of role in all of this.  He did.  His kind attitude was infectious, and always diffused that tension we felt as we drove up Medical Center Drive. He wanted to do his small part to make this experience better.  I know he did and we love him for that.

It is important to keep an open mind and accept the help that others want to provide. I’ve experienced this lately with my new friends in the running community in Ann Arbor.  I’ve given up my bullheaded ways and now look to the experts for running and training, and I soak up every word.  My friend Rob was telling me all about his experiences at various marathons he had conquered and it left me with a new frame of reference.  It has helped me think more critically about what I will be facing when I line up for my own run.  I took some pointers from Marie, my running group leader, for my upcoming 10k race (the Turkey Trot in Detroit on Thanksgiving).  

Now when I see those elite runners breaking records in the marathon on television, I’ll understand.  No one man could ever run a world-record marathon without help.  The pacers are just the guys you see on the screen. A single outsider could never have conquered Everest. The Sherpas unique gifts and expertise made Sir Edmund Hillary’s conquest of Everest a reality, and he made sure that Tenzing Norgay was given his due.  From here on out, I’ll be doing the same for our team.

A quick plug for our campaign...

Dear Family and Friends,

Thank you so much for everything you have done for our family as we met the challenge of breast cancer. Moira is doing well, having survived the rigorous chemotherapy regimen (16 weeks!) and surgery. She is now undergoing radiation therapy for the next six weeks, and will be done with treatment around New Year’s Day. She is happy to be nearly done, and I am sure baby Leo is looking forward to her returning energy and enthusiasm in 2010 (she’ll need it to keep up with him!)

As many of you know, I have been writing about our experiences online.  In my blog, I have described some of the things Moira and I are doing to support the cancer community that has so diligently supported us. To start, I began running and have finally shed the extra pounds that were dragging me down! I’m much better equipped to help out with Leo and running the household, and I now have the stamina to keep up everything a cancer survivor supporter must do to keep the ball rolling.

This fall, I have become a member of The Wellness Community’s Strides for Hope team at the Mardi Gras Music Half Marathon on February 28th, 2010 to raise money for and awareness of The Wellness Community of Southeast Michigan. The Wellness Community is an organization that provides support, education and hope to people with cancer and their loved ones. It has been an essential part of our family’s survivorship. I need your help to successfully accomplish this challenge, so I please ask for two simple things from you:

Emotional support – Trust me, I’ll need all the support I can get!
Financial support – I have pledged to raise $2,900.

To address the first, I know that you will be supporting me in spirit as I train each week for the next few months and especially as I run on February 28th. Regarding the second request, I ask you to please support my effort and The Wellness Community with a generous contribution. Your tax deductible donation will help The Wellness Community to continue providing people affected by cancer with free emotional and psychological support and education programs that help them learn to live well with a cancer diagnosis. Remember to find out if your employer matches charity donations – as that could double your gift.

You can donate by clicking the donate box immediately to the right!  Some FAQs:

Is my donation tax deductible? 

Of course! The Wellness Community is very responsive in sending you a notice for tax purposes. If you donate online, you’ll get a notice you can print out immediately.

How can I donate?

Make a check out to “The Wellness Community of Southeast Michigan” and mail it to us (email me for the address!)

OR:

Donate safely online with immediate results and a tax notice!

Do my donation dollars go towards the cost of these stamps and envelopes? The shirts (for donations over 65$) How about this mailing? What about your travel expenses to New Orleans?

Moira and I are donating the full cost of stamps and envelopes, time (of course!) and many other resources to make this a “go,” including the shirts that we are giving out to the donors who give 65$ or more. We will pay for the shirts out of pocket for you to enjoy! We are also planning to make a significant contribution of our own, which should cover the majority or all of the cost of my travel to and from New Orleans. Consequently, your donation will be used to help the Wellness Community fulfill its mission.

What shirt?! 

Moira and I designed a shirt for our campaign! The above image will appear on a black shirt. If you donate 65$ or more, you are entitled to a high-quality custom t-shirt! (One shirt per donor, please! Moira and I are buying them out-of pocket with our own money!) Just be sure to include a note in your envelope telling me what size you want (M, L or XL). If you donate online, please just email me your size!

Pace Yourself for the Best Results and Recovery

A few weeks into Moira’s chemotherapy treatments, she developed a fever.  Fevers are no joke when you have a compromised immune system, so our oncologist sent us straight to the emergency room.  Once there, the resident on call shot Moira up with some Tylenol and the fever subsided in minutes. They admitted her anyway.  Her white blood cell count was dangerously low, and she could have easily been laid low by something as simple as a cold.

So there she sat for a few days, isolated in a tiny room. All visitors were required to dress up like astronauts so as to avoid bringing in any infections. No outside food or drinks.  No fun.  Considering that her fever was gone, she felt fine the whole time (aside from the boredom, of course).  And that is where our story begins.  The few days while Moira was there, I was home with Leo and my work and keeping the family ship afloat.  Moira was bored and lonely and a little crabby.  She kept saying: “If I had just taken a few Tylenol I would never have had to come to the ER!”  To which I said: “Yes dear, but then your low white blood cell count could have let a little sniffle compromise your whole treatment regimen…or worse yet, killed you.”

It is hard to suffer a setback when you are in the trenches fighting cancer, training for a marathon, or accomplishing anything worth doing.  It is almost unbearable to contain your enthusiasm and restrain your ambition.  All Moira wanted to do was get on with her life, to get cancer out of her system, and be done with all of this.  I understood.  It was probably the first time she really felt like a patient.  Until then she had been cruising along as well as anyone could have hoped. It was then she learned to pace herself.

Last week, I talked about remembering to live and love your life while you are fighting cancer or putting in training miles.  All of that is critical to staying positive and putting your challenges in perspective.  That said, it is all too easy to overcorrect and overdo your training or treatment.  It is natural to want to impress everyone in your running group by bounding along like a teenager.  Fine, if you have it in you.  I don’t.  I have tried to learn to run at a reasonable, safe, and productive pace.  I don’t run eight miles at a seven minute, thirty second pace yet because I’d probably hurt myself.  My body just isn’t there right now.  It is my goal to run a marathon in under four hours, but I have many months to build a foundation.  If I don’t pace myself, I’ll end up in the ER, too.

It takes a certain element of pride-swallowing to run at a safe pace.  My friend and current cancer kicker Phil Brabbs told me over the weekend that running distance races was always difficult for him because it was his natural tendency to  tear it up from the beginning, even though he had the fitness for a long run.  That works for a five kilometer race, but not for a half marathon or marathon.  It takes tactics and patience.  I’m learning how to be a more patient person on many levels, but running has taught me more than anything else has in this regard.

Just a few weeks ago, Moira had a small complication, and it sent us back to the ER.  Just a stomach bug in the end, but it was a tough few days and her weakened immune system really had a job of work to fend it off.  After that, she announced to me that she was going on a temporary hiatus from public life.  She recognized that, although she had recovered from surgery remarkably well, she was pushing it by scheduling so many social activities and new obligations so soon.  She needed to pace herself so she could make a full recovery.  She knew that a few extra weeks of lying low would help her come back at one hundred percent.  It has.

This weekend, I didn’t run.  Last week I had logged fifteen miles by Thursday evening, but I noticed soreness in my hip that told me to slow down and rest.  It was tough to set aside my planned nine mile run on Saturday morning, but I got out my bike and did a long ride instead.  Calories burned, cardio tested, and it was all low-impact.  I feel better already and I was still able to meet my weight loss and fitness goals this week.

In the coming months, I will learn more and more about building a foundation of fitness.  I have a long way to go, but I am going to have help.  In order to complete my February half-marathon and raise dollars for the Wellness Community, I have signed up for a marathon training team right here in town.  We start in the first weeks of January.  Running outside.  At 7:30 a.m. on Saturdays.  If I can pace myself in that kind of cold, I will have come a long way.

In Cancer and Life, Don't Let Joy Slip Away From You

You might not really realize that life doesn’t actually come to a screeching halt once you have that diagnosis in hand. In fact, all your stresses are still there, but now they are compounded by cancer. With any luck, you’ll have a support network of family and friends that can shoulder some of that burden, but nevertheless, it doesn’t actually go away.

On the flipside, however, all the happy stuff we experience in our everyday lives won’t stop, either. Your new baby laughing for the first time, the kids’ soccer tournament, holidays and anniversaries; they all happen whether you or your loved one has cancer or not.

Of course, experiencing these joyful things is a challenge with the threat of cancer hanging overhead. Not everyone can throw on a suit of emotional armor at a moment’s notice and pretend that everything is OK. I know we couldn’t, and still can’t. Moira has always been brave through cancer, but even the strongest among us have fears that creep up from time to time. The best advice I can give in this regard is to try. Try as hard as you can to see the silver lining, to witness the good every day brings. Don’t let cancer or suffering dominate every conversation. It is natural to want to block off four months of your calendar with CANCER, and focus exclusively on the outcome of your treatment…just don’t get so focused that you forget to live your life. After all, your life is why you fight.

If Moira and I had not set aside our fears at least occasionally, we would have missed out. Since her diagnosis, the following have all occurred:

• Moira searched, interviewed for, and started her new job 
• I started running, and running, and running 
• Leo grew about 16 pounds and turned into a smiling little boy 
• We traveled to the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame 
• Moira saw U2 live in Chicago 
• I finished a series of 5 kilometer races 
• I started my blog 
• We have gown close with a whole new community of people 

That last one strikes a nerve. Though all of this, we have made sure to reach out to friends and friends-of-friends, and have formed important new relationships as a result. I know I have mentioned Phil and Cassie Brabbs before, but their story has inspired us along the way and they have become our friends. Actually, Phil’s recent entry on his own blog: “Cancer takes Back Seat to Soccer” was one of the happiest I have read all year. It represents exactly what I am talking about. Joy. Even for a little while, and even in the face of a huge challenge.

Your finding joy doesn’t always have to be a big deal, either. It can be as simple as finding small comforts on a lousy day. At the University of Michigan Comprehensive Cancer Center, for instance, they offer just about every resource under the sun for cancer survivors and their supporters. Free massages while you get your chemo infusion today? Why, sure! It must sound ridiculous to anyone who has not experienced it, but (aside from the needles) chemo days proved to be some of the most relaxing Moira and I have had together in some time. In a way, I think we looked forward to having all day to rest, talk, watch a movie together, or just sit side by side and read in a quiet environment. Sure, the reason you are there is awful, but when you accept what is happening you can take a little joy out of a free afternoon, a quiet place to rest, and maybe a Barry Bagel on the house.

These thoughts all started churning in my head yesterday, as I was well into my longest run to date, ten miles. Somewhere between miles 6 and 7 I realized that I was inadvertently passing through the very place I was when I took the worst phone call of my life. It was Moira, and as you can imagine she was calling me to say that the doctor just called to say the tumor was malignant. I was on Dixboro Road near Geddes Road. After she called, the rest was a blur. Fighting an overwhelming urge to bawl my eyes out and scream out loud, I made my way home, where Moira was there with Leo. I always thought they’d have you come in to their office to drop that kind of bomb, but there you go. A phone call and our lives changed.

I couldn’t tell you one thing about that panicked ride home. As for my run yesterday, though, I can tell you everything. I was on the Border-to-Border Trail, and my route was from Fuller Park to Parker Mill County Park and back, with a few short detours thrown in to make up my goal distance.

This was my first double-digit run, and it hurt. I was running well, but after 7 miles I started to struggle a bit, then struggled a bit more. Maybe I pushed too fast, too hard. Regardless of the hard work I was doing, however, I paid special attention to take it all in.

This would be a run to remember. My first ten-mile run, and it felt like a right of passage for a runner. I quit caring about my speed, and started caring about my experience. I saw the new limestone path and pedestrian bridge over Fleming Creek. I saw hundreds of people running and walking and riding their bikes. I smelled the sanitary sewer plant (hopefully THAT I will forget).

The point is that although I was suffering, I was really enjoying that moment, and savoring it through the struggle. I loved the exhilaration of moving forward under my own power, and seeing the City from a new perspective. When I was done, I had two reasons to celebrate…I had run my longest distance ever, and I had loved every minute of it. It may be too soon to be sure, but I hope we remember this summer as the summer we made lifelong friends and got to know our little boy. The cancer memories will always be there, but I chose to try and savor these joyful things first.

One of the first comments from my blog last week wisely reminded me to keep my eyes open and enjoy these runs, to not forget why I was doing them just because I wanted a great time on a stopwatch. Thank you. I must also add that it has been overwhelming and humbling to get all the responses I have gotten from you this past week. It has inspired Moira and I as we begin our campaign for the Wellness Community and as we face Moira’s last phase of treatment, radiation...starting this Thursday. There is clearly a closeness in the cancer community here in Ann Arbor, but also in the running community, where much of my feedback originated. I may not be a running veteran, but your support has buoyed my spirits. I’m building up my distance in training for a half marathon in February, so you’ll probably see a lot more of me out on the road as the snow starts to fall. I’ll enjoy that too, even if my feet freeze. Wish me luck.

Run Down Cancer

This is my first entry that will appear on AnnArbor.com, our City's main newspaper.  A little bit of it may seem like a recap, to bring new readers up to speed.  Thanks for your support!!

It always struck me as inspired that cancer, in nearly all of it’s forms, gets so much of its research funding and survivorship support from the fruits of athletic endeavors.  For instance, if you want to do something amazing for breast cancer survivors, you can do a three-day, 60-mile walk, gathering sponsor dollars while you train.  Want to help fight leukemia?  Join the Team in Training program and run a marathon, race a triathlon, or bike 100 miles in a single day.  You don’t have time for months of training?  Walk a mile and raise dollars that way.

Of course, people could give your organization money regardless of whether or not you ever run, bike, walk, or swim that race…but I can tell you from experience it makes everything more special. There is an inspirational overtone to all of this.  When you sacrifice, it means something.  On May 22, my wife Moira was diagnosed with breast cancer.  She was 31 at the time and had just given birth to our boy Leo exactly three months earlier, on February 22.  If that wasn’t enough, she had also lost her job in early February…just days before she was to take maternity leave.

Now I am not trying to get you to drag out the Kleenex here, but I am willing to bet that the vast majority of you are thinking: “Wow, poor girl, she had one unreal year.”  You would be right.  It has been inspiring to live beside her as she and I cope with everything life has thrown our way. Up to this point, things had basically been going according to plan.  I think it can be said that we don’t do any half measures…want a stressful year?  Go big or go home, I guess

Speaking of big, I most definitely was BIG myself.

In fact, it had become such a stressor for me that I was constantly feeling down, lacking self-confidence, and wondering if was going to make it up the stairs without breaking a sweat.  It certainly hadn’t helped our relationship over the past two years or so. I would get down on myself and Moira would challenge me to do something, to take control of the situation.  For me, and I am sure for many of you, it was never that easy.  Sit out doughnuts from Washtenaw Dairy every time someone had a birthday at work?  Yeah, I didn’t think so.

Near the end of May, just days after her diagnosis, Moira and I were lying in bed staring at the ceiling and pretending we knew how to plan for her cancer treatment (we didn’t).  I laid on the inspirational talk pretty thick. I handed her a copy of Lance Armstrong’s book, told her that “we’ll beat this” and I pretty much figured that was all I had in me.  I’ll never forget what Moira said to that: “Fine.  If you want to inspire me, get in shape.  I’m sick of hearing you whine.”  Actually, I made up the “whine” part, but she is too nice to have added that herself.

So as she started chemotherapy, I started to walk, then run.  For my regular readers, you’ll remember the first time I wrote about running.  By then, I was making progress.  So was Moira.  She took on a sentinel lymph node biopsy procedure, 16 weeks of high-dose chemo, a mastectomy, and will be facing radiation in the coming weeks.  On top of all of that, she became the best mom in town and even found a great new job with getDowntown. In the future I’m sure I’ll tell you about many of our experiences surviving cancer, and the “new normal” we have had to accept.  It isn’t easy, and everyone “fights” cancer in a different way.  It has taken me months to learn that.  At the end of the day, though, she wasn’t just beating cancer…she was kicking its tail.

Go big or go home.  I need insurmountable.  Lose 10 pounds?  How about 50? Run a 5k?  How about the Dexter-Ann Arbor Half Marathon…how about the Chicago Marathon?  In fact, that’s my ultimate goal, the 2010 Chicago Marathon.  I’ve given it a lot of thought, and it is: 1. A year away, so I have time; 2. A world-class event; 3. A fast, flat course; and, 4. Nearby.  And another thing...the debate rages on whether the sport of distance running has been diluted by new and recreational runners doing marathons in 6 or 8 hours, walking most of the way.  For my part, the sport is big enough for everyone, but I’m committed to really racing this thing.  My goal is 3 hours, 43 minutes, or an 8-minute, 30 second-per-mile pace. That puts me in the upper 20 percent of the race’s finishers. So far, so good...I'm running faster and longer every day, and I'm down over 30 pounds.

In the meantime, I’ll also run a half marathon in New Orleans, earning money for the Wellness Community of Southeast Michigan (an invaluable cancer survivor resource) and I’ll run a dozen 5k races around Ann Arbor for causes like breast cancer research.  I’m grateful for the opportunity to put these goals out there for everyone to read, too.  It’s a commitment to a seemingly insurmountable goal.  After all, three months ago I couldn’t run to the living room.  If you see me on the road, shout out some encouragement.  Like I said the very first time I wrote about our challenging year, I hope I can inspire Moira the way she has inspired me.