Fitness for Survivors

Kilimanjaro - Decision

2012-01-30T10:48:00.000-05:00

We continued our climb up through the forest. I regretted not bringing my East African bird guide. With a weight limit of 33lbs per bag, I chose to leave the volume behind in Moshi. When packing for a climb to 19,000 ft., a choice between bird book or down parka or extra fleece seemed obvious. But here in the trees, I wanted to identify the birds I was seeing and hearing. I took notes and pictures when I could so that I could look them up later.

As we gained altitude, we came out of the forest into scrubby bushes and stunted trees, which gave way to the sedges and lichens of the alpine tundra.

Finally, after 3 days, we came around a corner and had a view of our goal across the plain. It was an awesome, if daunting sight! I looked across the vast Shira Plain at the route we would take up to the crater and felt the familiar insignificance I always experience in the mountains. (This feeling was only enhanced by a conversation I was having at that moment on the nature of evil with Father Frank - 71 yr. old Monsignor, cancer survivor, and steady presence on the mountain.)

That night's camp was in the middle of the plain. The day had been long; some didn't make it in to camp until dark. We cheered our teammates and helped light their way. Those of us who were already comfortably settled in helped our tired friends to their tents and carried their bags.

The next day we continued our trek across the Shira Plain. I obsessively took pictures of the mountain and that day's vegetation. Our next camp was on the ridge between the plain and the next valley, where winds blowing across the plain roil moisture-laden clouds rising up from the valley.

Shortly before pulling into camp, I started feeling sick. Once in camp I napped on the rocks in the sun (covered with sunscreen, of course). Until I started throwing up. Then the diarrhea. Then more vomiting.... I was sick!

I spent far too much time during the night out in the rocks puking. (I always tried to do it in a more out of the way spot and covered the spot with rocks so I didn't give some other hiker a nasty surprise.) I started antibiotics and tried to keep anti-nausea meds down (without much success). In the morning I pulled Charlie (Charlie Wittmack, executive director of Above & Beyond Cancer, leader of our merry group, climber, adventurer, encourager, knower of many things) aside to talk about my options. I wanted to know what the possibilities were if I needed to retreat. I knew there was a road close to this camp for rescue vehicles. Leaving this camp would be easy. What about the next ones? I didn't think I was finished with the mountain yet, but I needed to know the options.

Charlie told me that 3 of our group were sick and would be going down that morning. Our oldest teammate - 73 yr old prostate cancer survivor - was very sick, suffering from dehydration and exhaustion. The 3 would go down to Moshi, recover, and await our return.

Charlie came back to me a few minutes later with more news: escape from the mountain would become much more difficult in the days ahead. If I thought I needed to leave, today was the day. I needed to make a decision.

I wasn't ready for that. I wanted to hike that day and see how I did. I wanted to see how I might recover. I needed more information before I made this decision.

I have experienced being sick on a climb. In fact, I puke on every mountain I climb. I have a hard time with altitude - I puke - it's what my body does. But I know this, and I know that I'm strong enough to continue. I've also experienced major stomach illness on a mountain. On Aconcagua I had to be on antibiotics the entire climb. I was much sicker than now. The difference was that on Aconcagua we had some rest days built into our schedule. And since we were a small group we could easily adjust the schedule so I could take a rest day after my all-night sick-fest which left me so weak I could barely walk. From that experience, though, I learned just how quickly a body can recover. One day of complete rest and re-hydration saw me ready to continue. It was a struggle to continue, but it was possible.

I'm tough. I know this. I know that I can continue against great obstacles. My concern here on Kili was that I wouldn't have any rest days. Quite the opposite. We had some long, tough days ahead.

I felt completely unready and unable to make this decision. I wasn't ready to quit, but was it wise to continue? In the past, I have made the choice to back off a mountain. But that choice was always completely obvious to me. This was not. I cried. I talked with John, our cameraman. Thanks to his recent abscessed tooth, he had been added to my list of toughest people I know. He's a climber; he understands. He understood, but of course he had no answers. The answers had to come from me.

Charlie approached, wanting a decision. I don't have one. He thinks I'm freaked out by the road. It's so easy here. The road is just 15 minutes away. If I'm too sick to summit, it's just so easy to leave here. But if there were no road? Charlie asks what I would do if I were this sick on Aconcagua where retreat still means days of walking out (unless I need helicopter rescue). Of course, I wouldn't go. I didn't go.

It's so simple. My decision is made. I'll continue. (I told you, Charlie is the knower of many things.)

That morning's reflection - each morning we have some sort of reflection for the group - given by Dick (Dr. Richard Deming, founder of Above & Beyond Cancer, caregiver, healer, chief encourager, wise fellow, light spirit) seems directed to me. It is about accepting help. About accepting assistance when it's offered and asking when we need it.

I pride myself on my self reliance, on my capableness. I am strong. I have endurance. I am tough. I will not run at the first sign of trouble.

Accepting offers to carry my water and my pack is not easy for me. As a climber, I believe in taking care of myself; no one else climbs for me. But clearly, these people - my teammates, my friends - are not going to let me out of camp with my pack on my back.

The lessons from this mountain, from this stomach bug, are not what I expect. I expect that I will learn lessons about strength and perseverance. But really, those are lessons already learned. The surprise lessons this day are about not being the toughest person. About accepting help. About assistance freely given and reluctantly but gratefully received.

So, with a little help from my friends, I climb, stopping periodically to puke.

Julie

Kilimanjaro: Change of Plans

2012-01-27T10:31:00.000-05:00

Breakfast at the lodge is filled with bravado, laughter, furtive glances and wringing hands. We were all anxious to get started up the mountain. Of course, life doesn't always proceed as planned.

We headed to the park gate to check in and get our porters. Forty climbers make for a HUGE pile of gear!

After many delays getting gear and porters sorted out, weighing all the bags (all bags are limited to 33lbs.), and filling out paperwork, we left the check-in. Big rain the night before had washed out sections of the road. We had one bus and one vehicle that looked like an army truck converted into a bus. We knew our bus would not make it. The decision was made that we would drive as far as possible and then wait for the truck to come back to pick us up.

As advertised, the road was not passable. Even before we reached the impassable section, we had some interesting stops and starts, scrapes, and close calls that made some in my bus gasp. I've had enough 3rd world bus trips on some very dicey roads to know that there's not really anything I can do; the driver knows a lot more about driving that road and those conditions than I do. I just sit quietly and trust.

Once we cannot go further, we unload our gear and sit under the trees, waiting for the truck. We were hoping we could walk, but are told we need to stay together with the gear. Relax. There is nothing we can do. No amount of American "but we have a schedule; we have to get this done" will change anything. Relax. Life doesn't always proceed as planned. We pull out journals and books, Charlie naps, Brian plays guitar. This forced rest ends up being my favorite moment of the day.

Because of the unforeseen delays, we cannot make the first camp that was planned. Instead, the course is re-figured. We will camp just at the start of the trail so that we won't be arriving into the originally planned camp well after dark. Given that several people in our group have very limited hiking and camping experience - and 2 have never slept in a tent before - not arriving after dark is an excellent idea. We'll make up the distance later.

I find it ironic that in the bus this morning - morning which seems like it was weeks ago - I told Theresa my cancer story. How my initial diagnosis was so very different than what eventually turned out to be reality. Scans and biopsies had not shown any tumors, only widespread non-invasive DCIS. Surgery revealed 2 moderately large tumors. Final pathology reported aggressive tumors, poor margins, and a high number of positive lymph nodes. Life doesn't always proceed as planned.

Our camp is nestled close under the trees. My tent-mate, Sarah and I choose a tent far from the people who admit to being snorers in the hopes of getting a good night's sleep. Already, some in our group are suffering from stomach problems. After dinner in our extremely long mess tent - a dinner of soup and some rice with vegetable curry - a meal we will become depressingly familiar with - we say goodnight. I lie in my sleeping bag which is far too warm for the temperatures in the lower foothills and listen to the sounds of the night. Men giggling in their tents like 7-year-olds, laughing at their bodily functions. Monkeys howling in the night. Porters softly whispering in their lilting, melodic tongue. All the quietude punctuated periodically by belches and gas. I wonder how Tim and Nina are feeling on their first-ever night in a tent.

Morning; packing; the first of the daily struggles to wrestle my thick -20 degree sleeping bag into a compression sack; breakfast of thin porridge, eggs, and hot dogs; yoga; and finally hiking.

We hike slowly in 3 groups. The pace is slow for me, but it's fine. Most of my companions are new to this sort of thing. We're a group; we all work together to help each other out. This trip is not about a few people getting to the top of something; this trip is about a group of ordinary people trying to do something extraordinary - together.

We make camp 2 - the Big Tree. More people are hit with stomach disorders. John, our cameraman, is hit with something else. He has an abscessed tooth. By late afternoon, the whole side of his face is swollen. There are discussions with the doctors. John is reluctant to go down the mountain. He is here to do a job and he wants to continue. The doctors are worried about his continuing up with a worsening infection. But what are the options? Lance it here on the mountain? Will that be effective? Will it be safe? Go down to Moshi? What kind of care will he find there? They decide to wait until morning to make a final decision. Morning comes and the infection is no better. John chooses to cast his lot with the doctors he knows - here, on the mountain. Syringes, alcohol preps, no anesthesia. The abscess is drained. John continues up the mountain.

Julie

The Kili Story

2012-01-25T04:17:00.001-05:00

Now that I'm home (and awake - thank you jet lag), it's time to write the Kili story. Or start telling. It was a very intense trip for a lot of reasons and I'm still processing it. I think I will be for a while.

I was struggling mentally in the first couple of days. I was tired, hadn't slept much before I left, couldn't sleep once I was there. Large groups make me a little nervous; I'm much more comfortable with just a couple of people at a time. I marvel at how easy everyone else is. Yes, most of them already know each other, but many of them also have that ease with people that I envy. I try.

I struggle to learn 39 new names. This is tough for me. I've never been particularly good with names, but I still suffer some after affects of chemo that make it much more difficult. Chemo brain can be so damned annoying! I don't want to insult these people by not remembering who they are. I don't want to worry about it. I just want to remember and be able to say the names. Often my chemo brain takes the form of aphasia: I know in my head what I want to say, but can't make the word come out my mouth.

I have little tricks to help me remember. We have 3 Gails (actually, one is Gayle) and 2 Jims. At meals I look around to find the Gails - like living in a Where's Waldo picture. Thinking of personal connections somehow helps me. Steve, father of Jed, friend to Jim. Tim, tall, not a Jim. Theresa, a mother, but not Mother Theresa. Unfortunately, these threads are not fast enough for conversation. I notice that so many of them already know my name. They greet me - Hey, Julie, how's it going?....How's it going? My brain has dribbled out on the floor. That embarrasses me. I don't want people to know that sometimes my brain is a pile of goo. I guess that's pride; I guess that's not particularly useful.

And I'm nervous. I always worry about whether I'm ready.

But we're off.

Julie

Tracks, Holes, and Buffalo - Walking In The Serengeti

2012-01-21T07:41:00.001-05:00

My safari (through Wayo Africa), includes a couple of days in a remote camp in the Serengeti. The big crowds, both of animals and tourists, were left behind. The great migration of zebra and wildebeests is currently further south in the short grasses. It was a wonder to see them, but this place has other joys. We have fewer big animals here in the long grasses, but we have birds, open spaces, hyenas calling in the night, and walking.

We spend a few hours out walking in the morning. During the heat of the day we rest at our tents. And then back out for an evening walk to watch the sunset from one of the kopjies (big rocks, pronounced "copies").

Besides the 3 of us tourists, we have some extra guides who are out here for a guide training course with an expert from South Africa. I was thrilled this morning when they invited me to tag along. We didn't cover a great distance, but we did cover a lot. We stopped frequently to look at tracks, birds, holes, dung, spiders, and rocks.

Big excitement came when we heard a buffalo snort. We continued cautiously. I did what Jean, Sean, and the other guides told me to do - I walked or stood where they told me to. Our buffalo was eventually found in a cave they like. He was encouraged to move elsewhere and we were able to safely explore the cave.

It was so much fun for me to explore this land in such minute detail with these guys. I'm really grateful to them for letting me tag along.

BTW, if you're ever in Tanzania, I highly recommend Wayo Africa for safari. They care to be good stewards of the land, and make sure their guides are knowledgable and very well trained.

Julie

Happy for Core Strength

2012-01-17T09:59:00.001-05:00

Day 2 of my safari. Spent the day at Ngorongoro Crater, the densest animal population on the planet. We saw cats - lions, cheetah, and a serval cat. We saw antelope. We saw zebra and wildebeests by the hundreds. Elephants. Black rhinos. Hippos. Birds, big and small. It was a good day!

I quickly discovered my favorite way of traveling - standing up in the back of our safari jeep, holding on, wind in my face. That way I can see in all directions. But it's not easy. We bounce along on wildly rough roads.

Days like this make me very glad that I have worked hard to keep my body strong. Solid legs and strong core muscles help me keep my balance no matter what the road is like. I am happy that I am strong enough to do what I want, when I want, without much thought about whether my body can handle it.

Today, I am grateful for my core because it has allowed me immeasurable pleasure.

Julie

Something Different - Canoeing!

2012-01-15T10:04:00.001-05:00

I awoke just after sunrise. My guide for the day was picking me up at 7. We were headed for Arusha National Park for game drive and canoe safari!

On the drive in to the lake district, I saw zebras, giraffes, warthogs, monkeys, and baboons. We met a couple from Lyons who I would be joining for the canoe trip. I shared the canoe with the guide.

We donned our lifejackets and were off. We had to stay close to shore while we looked for hippos. They are very dangerous, so we had to locate them before crossing the open water. As we glided along the shore I saw plovers, sandpipers, and crakes. I saw a beautiful male bush buck, but wasn't quick enough with my camera to capture him.

It felt good to be using different muscles for a change. My shoulders and back thrilled at being used for something other than carrying a pack.

As we pulled out of our protected inlet the wind hit us - and our canoe. It ended up being quite windy and the waves picked up fast. We paddled fast and hard to avoid being blown into rocks. Then we would get a respite as we turned into another protected inlet, and could leisurely float along looking at wildlife.

The hippos, it turned out, were not to be found this morning in our lake. We had wound our way to the opposite side, had full view of the lake, but had found no hippos. (We did find them later in a nearby lake.) So we made a beeline back across the lake. Or we tried to. With the wind, it was much more like a ragged zig-zag. And it was hard work, but fun.

Julie

Kili - Back To The Beginning

2012-01-14T11:37:00.001-05:00

So...I was much less able to post on the mountain than I expected. Cellular coverage was non-existent for much of our route, and when it was available I was too sick to feel much like typing on my phone (more on that later).

For now, I'll go back to the beginning. We all arrived - or at least most of us did. I had met up with a large part of the group (40 people -19 survivors and 21 caregivers) at the airport in Amsterdam. We arrived. We settled into our hotel. We ate. We slept. Or we tried to sleep.

Next morning we had our first look at the mountain. We started off the day with some yoga on the lawn. Later, we took a nice hike while waiting for all those whose flights had been delayed. Or almost all. We were still missing one.

I'm used to hiking and running alone, or with a very small group. Hiking with a group of 40 was BIG change! I tried to move through the pack, walking for a while with different people, getting to know my new neighbors. Many of them are from Iowa, and many of those from Des Moines, so they already knew each other.

After my scramble to get ready to go, end-of-year work, and nearly 24 hours of travel, it felt great to get out and hike! Beautiful scenery was all around as we walked through the foothills of Kilimanjaro.

Here are a few pics from our day.

Julie

Summit

2012-01-13T01:33:00.001-05:00

Summit - sick - down - more later

Kili

2012-01-08T23:04:00.001-05:00

I'm here- 2 days from summit. 1st cance to post. Been sick, but still moving forward slowly, my teammates are great!

Julie

Kilimanjaro prep - the next big thing

2012-01-01T14:17:00.000-05:00

ready to go!

Julie

A Fitting End

2011-12-31T23:55:00.000-05:00

Yesterday I pulled a pair of pants from the back of the closet to wear while I did some chainsawing and other yard work. They had been pushed to the back because for quite a while they had gotten a bit tight, thanks to Tamoxifen and other cancer drugs, and then I just forgot about them. With all the running I've been doing this past year, they fit comfortably once again.

In the pocket, I found a small piece of stone. It had remained deep in the pocket of these pants through repeated wearing and washings. I remember precisely when and where I picked it up.

Ten years ago, I headed out on a hike, wearing army fatigues borrowed from my little brother. It was a brisk, late Autumn day. The sun was shining through the trees, creating a dappled pattern on the leaf-covered trail. My goal that day was a ridge above Timp Pass. I had to stop frequently to catch my breath as I struggled up the steep climb to the pass. After a short break at the pass, I scrambled up onto the ridge that looks down into the pass and across to the top of the Timp.

I pulled my hat off as I came up to the ledge to feel the sun on my bald head. It warmed my skull, in spite of the cool breeze. I sat, breathing the crisp air, feeling the warmth and the cool on my skin. A peregrine called out as it flashed above the treetops. I was happy.

I found a small piece of quartz, white with edges tinged in black. I liked the way it felt and the way it looked. I put it in my pocket to remind myself of that moment. I didn't know how many more times I would be able to make it up to that spot, so I took a little piece of it home with me.

My brother had been in New York a few weeks earlier and had brought me some of his old fatigues. I had requested them; I was amused by the idea of wearing army fatigues with my newly bald head.

My brother - the wounded vet., the hero, the former Army Ranger. He had come to New York for the taping of an interview about Somalia, about the Battle of Mogadishu. He knew something about the delicate frailty of human bodies. He knew of looking into the face of your own mortality. He knew how fear can steal the breath from your lungs, how it can siphon off the feeling and the strength of your legs. And he knew the astounding force of will to keep moving forward because to stop was to die.

We didn't talk much about such things - about death. There was no need. I don't know what he went through; he doesn't know what I experienced. But we both understood the truth that is impossible to describe to someone else. The truth that talking doesn't change. The truth that only time can make more comfortable, like a well-worn pair of boots.

I liked wearing those pants of his. They made me smile. And I like that I found them - and my stone - again this last week, a fitting end to the year.

Although most of the world marks decades beginning on the zeros, the end of 2011 marks the end of my decade. Ten years ago my clock reset. A decade has passed. I look forward to a new year, a new adventure, and a new decade. I look forward to wearing those pants on a hike up to the ridge above Timp Pass.

I wish you all comfort, health and happiness in the new year.

Julie

Resolutions? Get A Jump On Them!

2011-12-29T18:10:00.001-05:00

It's getting to be that time of year - resolution time.

Everybody makes New Year's Resolutions....well, almost everybody. I'm not so much into them. Are you?

There are countless discussions among friends, TV shows, newspaper and magazine articles about making those changes starting Jan. 1. But I don't really understand the idea of making a positive change with the new year. Why wait? Why plan to do something good for yourself, but then wait a week or a month to do it?

If I need to make a change, I want to do it now, while I'm thinking about it. Maybe in part that's because of my sometimes short memory (collateral chemo damage). But I think it's more that if I want to improve something, the best time to do it is now. I might not be able to do it all now, but I can at least take the first steps. If I've determined that something will be a good and positive change for me, I want to start that change right now.

So, in these final days of 2011, why not get a jump start on your resolutions. If you are resolved to get more exercise, why not start today? Go for a walk. If you're resolved to eat more local or organic produce, pick up one thing on your next grocery trip. Want to eat more fruits and vegetables? Buy a banana instead of a candy bar. Just one. Today.

You don't have to be perfect. Expectations of perfection kill more good resolutions than anything else. Don't expect to be perfect. Just expect that you'll take a small step most days.

But don't wait until next week! Don't sit around in this week between Christmas (or Hanukkah or Kwanzaa) and New Years, just waiting for next year. Take a step today.

Julie

Of Butts and Men

2011-12-27T10:48:00.001-05:00

There was a news story from last week that may have been overlooked by many in the rush to Christmas, and I feel compelled to comment on it.

It was reported that Rep. Jim Sensenbrenner (R. WI) told a group at a church social that Michelle Obama has a "big butt". He was later overheard recounting the story loudly on his cell phone in the airport. His response, once the media picked up the story, was to claim he simply opposes her healthy eating initiative. Mrs. Obama has been very active in encouraging kids to move more and develop healthier eating habits. But that's not what he said. He didn't disagree with her position, he disagreed with her body.

He's not the first person to level such personal attacks, aimed at her body, at the First Lady. Back in February Rush Limbaugh complained that she had no right to talk about healthy eating and exercise because she didn't have a Sports Illustrated swimsuit model body.

These stories are wrong on so many levels. Where to even begin?

A good beginning might be the oh-so-obvious pot calling the kettle black. Do either of these men own a mirror? Do either of you really want to go toe to toe in a fitness matchup with the First Lady? - It might be entertaining for us, but it would probably kill you both, so I wouldn't advise it.

But the more substantive beginning would be to look at reality. Body shape is not the same as weight. People of a healthy body weight can have very different body shapes. And weight is just one component of health. Rail-thin is not necessarily healthy; models are hardly the picture of health.

Michelle Obama looks great! She's active; she eats well. She looks like a normal, healthy woman. (and I'm totally envious of her fabulous arms!)

And some more reality - obesity costs the U.S. around $150 billion in direct medical costs according to the Centers for Disease Control (CDC). But McKinsey & Co. reports that indirect economic costs are $450 billion annually in the U.S. Of course, those numbers only reflect the economic costs, not the human costs, which are harder to define.

Mrs. Obama is addressing a very real problem. One of the best ways to fight this problem is to give children the tools they need to live a healthier life. Preventing obesity is easier than fighting it, especially once it's already caused secondary health problems. Get kids moving more and eating healthier, and obesity rates will begin to come down.

Is Michelle Obama perfect? No. Does she sometimes skip a workout? Probably. Does she sometimes eat fries and a plate of ribs? Yes. Does that make her unhealthy? Absolutely not!

No one is perfect - at anything. A healthy lifestyle is not about being perfect. It's about being consistent. It's about making better choices more often than not. It's about the overall balance of how we live - how we act, how we move, what we eat.

But besides the reality of obesity in America, why is it acceptable to speak that way about any woman? We frequently worry about media images and how they affect girls' self image, and that of the women they become. Far too many of us grow up hating our bodies, or at least some part of it. Girls starve themselves and women spend millions on surgery in an attempt to attain some twisted idea of beauty.

Yet here we have powerful, influential men stooping to personal attacks on a woman's body. Who needs magazines filled with too thin models whose bones are sticking out? All we have to do is pick up the newspaper to feel bad about our bodies. We've got national leaders out in front, leading the charge.

Finally, why is it still acceptable to bring up a woman's appearance in the political arena? If you want to disagree with her work to try to improve the health of children, go ahead. But why would anyone consider it appropriate to bring up a woman's body shape? We never hear these sorts of comments about male politicians. No one would ever say, "his economic ideas are stupid because he's just plain UGLY." No, they would discuss the merits of his plan. We don't read about the cut of a man's suit in politics, but every woman who has run for office has had her wardrobe discussed - "She wore a yellow suit...a navy suit...pumps...a pantsuit." Why are we still discussing style instead of substance?

And why would anyone wonder why girls and the women they become sometimes have image issues?

Julie

Peace and Joy

2011-12-25T01:33:00.000-05:00

From my other life -
Played my last holiday party tonight, and happily listened to Bach on the drive home. And last night was my last Messiah concert. For me, the holiday season is not complete without Handel's Messiah and WKCR's annual Bach Fest.

No matter how many times I play Handel's Messiah, it always makes me happy. The purity, grace, and balance of that work is sublime. That this work was created at some point in the history of man gives me hope for us.

No matter what your beliefs, no matter what you celebrate or don't, please accept my wish for Peace and Joy for you and all the world.

Julie

OK, I can't resist adding this video from last year because it's just so much fun.

The Next Big Thing

2011-12-21T12:21:00.000-05:00

I'M GOING TO AFRICA!!!! (picture me jumping up & down, waving my arms in the air, wearing my new fabulous, fuzzy, footed pajamas my parents gave me - and yes, I already opened my present!)

OK, now for the more sober version: I'm going to Africa to climb Kilimanjaro with a group of other cancer survivors.

And this also is all due to my parents; they are responsible for many good things right now!

I called my parents on my way home from the airport after my Cambodia trip - hi, Mom & Dad, I'm back, I'm safe, I didn't drown or get kidnapped.... They immediately started talking about a doctor they had met and heard speak. Dr. Richard Deming is medical director of Mercy Cancer Center in Des Moines, IA, and founder/chairman of Above & Beyond Cancer. He would be taking a group of survivors to Kilimanjaro in January. They were sending me an article about him, and insisting that I had to talk to him. All I could think at that moment was, I've just spent 23 hours in planes and airports, can I take a shower first? Please? And have a cup of coffee?

I did speak with him (after I got some sleep), and with Charlie Whittmack, the executive director of Above & Beyond Cancer. And can I just say, Wow! Those are some impressive guys! Above & Beyond Cancer was founded to help cancer survivors find new meaning and new strength through climbing and other adventures. They took a group of survivors on a trek to Everest Base Camp last April. (you can read about that trip and see photos here.) I quickly learned why my parents were so excited to introduce me to Dr. Deming and Above & Beyond Cancer.

I am thrilled at finding out about this organization, and not just because I'll be going on their Kilimanjaro trip. One of the things that I immediately loved about the organization is the emphasis on the process of striving for a goal and the transformative possibilities that creates. This is not some super-charged assault on a mountain. These are not great athletes. These are ordinary folks, striving to do something extraordinary. It was clear that the whole process is what's important. The summit is only a small part. The training, the fellowship of other like-minded people, the new environment, the challenge - these are all part of the experience. Above & Beyond Cancer is about challenging and renewing the body, mind and spirit.

So, I'll be leaving Jan. 1 for Tanzania. I look forward to the chance to climb Kilimanjaro. I look forward to meeting the other survivors, friends and family with whom I'll be spending the first two weeks of 2012. I'm sure we'll have lots of fun, struggles, and amazing experiences.

In the next few weeks I'll be writing about my preparation, my progress (or lack of - that's always a possibility) on the mountain, and my overall experience. While on the mountain, I'll post when I can.

Cancer is not a good thing; I would certainly have preferred to have never had to deal with this. But, thanks to family, friends, and some wonderfully dedicated and caring people, good things can come out of it.

I will also be making a donation to Above & Beyond Cancer to help provide trip scholarships for other, future survivors. Because, unfortunately, there will always be more. If you are looking for a good place for some year-end giving, you can do it online here. (make sure Above & Beyond Cancer is listed in the dropdown box)

Julie

Update on BE CAREFUL!

2011-12-12T23:16:00.002-05:00

As a terrible reminder of why I occasionally write posts like my last one about being careful when you're out exercising, a dear friend of mine was hit by a car today while on her morning run. She has sustained serious injuries - fractured pelvis and wrists. She'll have surgery tomorrow followed by a very long recovery.

My very best wishes are with Rebecca.

I know my last post was mostly pointed at all of us, making sure that we're doing everything we can to be safe. However, usually when I talk or write about safety on the streets, it's to rail against drivers who pay far too little of their limited attention to what's happening around them. It's time for a lot more railing!

Drivers, you forget that the people walking or riding on your road have no protection. You have a huge sheet of steel surrounding you. We have nothing (and it is our road, too). Even at 10mph, you will inflict great damage on a human body. You don't bother to slow up or give us a little more room, assuming you can breeze by just inches from us. Most of the time you get away with it. But sometimes you don't.

What happens if we stumble? What happens if you just misjudged?

Yes, of course you're in a hurry. The way you drive, we should all understand that you are the most important person on the planet with the most important appointment. Or so you think.

But what happens to your precious schedule when you hit one of us?

You thought you were having a bad day....just wait until you run one of us down. Now you've got cops, hospitals, insurance to deal with.

I haven't even begun to talk about driver distractions. Easily 70% of the drivers I see while running on the roads are talking on their phones - or texting. I've seen people drive with the newspaper spread out on their steering wheel. I've seen women putting on makeup while driving. I've seen strange combinations of all of those activities - none of which have anything to do with driving. Really, your Facebook update can't wait 10 minutes until you're home? Seriously, nothing you have to say is that important!

So, drivers, slow the f*** up and pay attention!

Julie

Yes, Get Out There - But Be Safe

2011-12-07T15:35:00.001-05:00

You know that I want everyone to get out and enjoy the outdoors in whatever capacity they can. I am always in favor of getting some exercise outside - run, walk, bike, garden - whatever you enjoy. Breathe real air (not recycled gym air), see other living things, see the sky....

But, please, do it safely.

We've been having remarkably grey, rainy, foggy weather the last few days. Yesterday was particularly bad, and I had to go out late in the afternoon. As I drove, I crested a hill with a sharp curve and nearly hit a runner. I avoided her, but was shaken.

It's great that she was out running; I applaud her. But on a remarkably grey, rainy, foggy afternoon, she was wearing all grey - grey sweatpants, grey shirt, grey gloves. The only tiny bit of color was a light pink cap. She was not making it easy for drivers to see her.

Please, when you're out on the road, make it as easy as possible for drivers to avoid hitting you! I often get quite angry at distracted drivers when I'm running or biking. But we have to run/ride with common sense. We have to be responsible for our own safety, too.

The roads near me are narrow and windy, therefore I do my best to make myself visible to drivers. I don't care how ridiculous I might look, I want to be seen. So today when I went out for a run, I looked a lot like Big Bird, or maybe a school bus (no one wants to hit a school bus, right??). This also applies to running or hiking in the woods during hunting season - be sure that you cannot be confused for a deer!

I also run on the wrong side of the road when it seems safer. I know that runners and walkers are supposed to run against traffic. But with the hills and curves, I want to be on whichever side gives the driver the best chance to see me. The hill where I came too close for comfort to that runner is one where I run on the other side. Coming over the hill at that angle, it was very difficult to see her. The cars coming the other way have a longer and clearer view.

A couple of other safety reminders:

If you're riding or running in a group, stay single file. Save your talking for after. If you ride 6 abreast and don't move to single file when you hear a car coming, all you do is put yourself in danger and really anger drivers. Remember, we're sharing the road. Angry drivers are more likely to make mistakes and hit you or someone else.

And maybe think about not wearing earphones. Oh my - did I really just say that??!?! I know the world can't do much of anything anymore without earbuds in. But if you're in traffic, you want to be able to hear cars. I never listen to music while running. I have to be able to hear approaching cars; the roads near me are just too hilly and winding to be confident that any driver will see me. And when I'm in the woods, well, it just seems wrong to blast tunes. I'd rather enjoy the quiet and peacefulness of nature. And besides, I want to be able to hear a bear or a snake slithering.

These are just a few quick reminders. Definitely get out and enjoy yourself. Just give yourself the best chance of being seen by drivers, hunters, and any other potential hazards out there.

Julie

Fitness Is A Lifestyle

2011-12-02T15:22:00.001-05:00

Just one more reminder from my recent trip to Cambodia that there's not just one way to stay fit. Whether you're traveling, recovering from injury or illness, or just in a time crunch, there is always a way to work some exercise into your day. It may not be your ideal workout, but fitness is not one workout - fitness is a lifestyle.

To borrow from Mick Jagger, You can't always get what you want, but if you try sometime, you might just find you get what you need....

Julie

Fear

2011-11-30T18:12:00.001-05:00

What do you fear? And what do you do with that fear?

We all have fears, big and small. I'm afraid of spiders; they creep me out. I'm afraid of fish - you know, a big fish swimming up underneath me when I'm swimming. I'm afraid of running into the bear when I'm running or hiking.

I'm afraid of not accomplishing what I set out to do. I'm afraid of not finishing the race, or bailing on a climb.

I'm afraid of pain. And I am always afraid of my cancer coming back. Or a new cancer.

Of course, some of these fears are more based in reality than others. Really, how likely is it that a fish will swim up and bite me? (Although this fear got a new breath of life when friends, doing their first Ironman in Cozumel last weekend, told me of getting stung by jellyfish and one swimmer being attacked by a barracuda.)

And my fears do not have equal consequences. If I don't finish a race, who cares?

But some fears have more merit. I had a high number of positive lymph nodes, so I know that I'll always be at a higher risk of cancer coming back - no matter how many years it's been. And since my cancer was such an anomaly (young, healthy, not in my family, virtually no risk factors), I sometimes fear that there's some flaw in my body that would make it easier for some other cancer to grow as well.

Two days ago I returned home to a message from my doctor's office to call - never a good message to hear. I recently had been for my annual exam - totally routine - except that once you've had cancer, nothing really seems routine again - even after 10 years. It was too late to call that day, so I got an evening full of all my darkest fears....cancer, pain, cancer, cancer, pain, oh god I'll have to tell my parents I have cancer again, I'm sure I'm not strong enough to face this again. And the next day there were problems with the phones. I didn't hear back until late in the afternoon.

Everything is normal.

Everything is normal. I should say, my body is perfectly normal. I don't feel normal after 24 hours of fear running around my brain. As I said (and many of you know), once you've had cancer, it's never routine again.

I wanted to be angry with the receptionist for putting me through that. But in fairness, she doesn't know. This is not one of my cancer doctors. She's just the receptionist doing her job. She can't leave more information in a message - patient privacy laws. And there had been some confusion - last year's Pap results were misfiled, I was never called - confusion. So they were making an effort to do things right - that's a good thing. Just bad luck that it spiked the Big Bad for me.

We all have fears, big and small. They rear their ugly heads from time to time. But what do we do with them? Do we let them define us? Keep us locked up inside, afraid to face our life? Or do we face them and use them to guide us to a better plan, to more strength?

I do my best to continue forward in spite of my fears. I swim and windsurf in spite of the fish (yes, I know it's a ridiculous fear). My heart does pound just a little faster when I get catapulted off the board out in the channel (the deepest point in Lake Michigan - you know there are BIG fish down there!). But I still go out. And I work very hard at improving my technique so that I'll fall off less often.

And unfortunately, cancer is a real fear. I can't change that. But I won't be someone who refuses to go to doctors or have proper exams because I'm afraid of possible bad outcomes. There are people who do that, but I would rather face my fears and know. Instead, when I was in the midst of my fears, I started thinking about all my resources, gathering the tools I might need. That way I can face the challenge, make the best plan, and do my best to keep going.

My Daily Tips on Life-Cise for the last 2 days express how I feel about my fears:

Look your challenge square in the eye. Face it, and then form a plan. Nov. 29

Don't let your fears define you. Use them to shape you and make you stronger. Nov. 30

Clearly the tips are sometimes just a reminder for me that I hope might also be useful to someone else.

Julie

Happy Thanksgiving

2011-11-24T11:27:00.001-05:00

As we express our gratitude, we must never forget that the highest appreciation is not to utter words, but to live by them.

~ John F. Kennedy

Wishing you all peace, love, and a life full of gratitude. Happy Thanksgiving!

Julie

OT - Food in Cambodia:)

2011-11-21T08:30:00.001-05:00

Going a little off topic.... Well, not too far OT. After all, food is an important part of a healthy lifestyle. And many of you know that I'm fairly obsessed with food - I am the person who talked about bacon when being interviewed for a profile in Fitness Magazine.

I love food - all aspects of food. I love eating. I love buying food to prepare a beautiful meal. I love attempting to grow some of my own food. I love the sight, smell, and sounds of food (the thump of a ripe melon, the sound of a sharp knife slicing through raw meat, the sizzle of food in a hot pan). I enjoy exploring what is fresh and local wherever I am. I love eating and I love feeding others. I love food.

My trip to Cambodia was a chance to explore new worlds of food. I was familiar with some flavors from other SE Asian cuisines. But, of course, food changes once it's transported to a new country. Asian food in New York is different than in Asia. In Cambodia there were new flavors and ingredients, and also new combinations of flavors.

One of the best culinary surprises came in Siem Reap, at a restaurant called Cuisine Wat Damnak. Chef Joannès Rivière uses fresh, locally sourced food to create beautiful Cambodian food. His inspiration is not only traditional Khmer food, but also the diverse culinary influences found throughout Cambodia, including Cham, Vietnamese, and Chinese. The beauty of his food comes from combining these flavors with flawless technique and balance.

Joannès came to Cambodia 8 years ago to teach cooking at the Sala Bai hotel school. The Sala Bai school is an NGO-funded school which fights poverty and human trafficking by providing training in the restaurant and hotel business for underprivileged youths. While working there, Joannes also wrote the school's cookbook, which I bought - all proceeds go to the school. (I had the chance to eat the food of one of his students when I visited Bantaey Chhmar, a small village near the Northwest border. It was quite good.) Joannès was Executive Chef at the Hotel de las Paix in Siem Reap for several years after leaving the school. Earlier this year, Joannès and his wife Carole opened Cuisine Wat Damnak.

Highlights of our meals there would have to be the braised pork shank and trotters with star anise, the frog legs with wing beans, fish soup with fish from the Tonle Sap lake, roast chicken with fire ant sauce. Oh, and I can't forget the roast eggplant, or the perfectly cooked scallops. The flavors of his dishes are bright and clear, and perfectly balanced.

I was interested in trying to get some cooking classes while in Cambodia to learn more about the ingredients and flavors. Unfortunately, Joannès does not offer classes, but he did invite me to join him for his morning trip to the market. Even better!! A trip to the market, getting to follow a terrific chef around, is much more useful and interesting to me. In a cooking class, I would watch someone else cook one dish, and write down a recipe (which I could easily read in a cookbook). But this way, I would get to know the local ingredients better and get a glimpse of some of the ways he thinks about food.

So the morning after our second meal at Cuisine Wat Damnak, I rode my bicycle to meet Joannes for coffee, and then we were off to the market. The souvenir stalls had not yet opened, but the market was bustling with food - all kinds of food. I followed along as Joannès bought his supplies for the day and checked for new items that might spark his interest.

I learned that a lot of the pork in Cambodia is imported. I was surprised to learn that almost all onions and cabbage are imported; it's not grown locally. The same is true of tomatoes. We visited the sellers who had local pork and the ones that had real, free range chickens (they're the ones that look like real birds, with legs large enough to walk on). We looked at vegetables and herbs. It was fun to match produce with flavors I had tasted the night before. I saw the wing beans I had eaten with the frog, and the local fish, which is actually just a bycatch, that had been beautifully grilled and offered as an amuse-bouche.

We looked at fish - lots of fish. There were fish imported from the coast. There were local fish from the Tonle Sap. There were bottom feeders and middle water fish, eels and shrimp. I saw buckets of tiny fresh-water shrimp which are washed and eaten whole, including the shells. I would have a chance to taste them a few nights later when we returned for our third and final meal at the restaurant. I also saw a large bowl filled with small turtles, not be eaten, but released at the temple for good blessings.

After shopping was finished, we sat down for breakfast - rice with fried pork, some lightly pickled vegetables, and soup. Delicious! And we continued talking about food and Cambodia, past and present. It was a fabulous morning - so much better than a cooking class.

When we said goodbye, I headed back in to the market to buy some fruit and some lovely young cauliflowers for snacks later while Ron and I visited more temples. And all the while, I wished I had a kitchen. I wanted to taste, smell, and feel all of that food. I wanted to feel the textures. I wanted to smell it cooking.

I want to thank Joannès, not just for a wonderful morning, but for three of the more memorable meals I've eaten. Yes, we went three times. He changes the menu each week. After our first fabulous meal, we had to go back the next week to try the next menu. And then it seemed like the perfect place for our last meal in Siem Reap. It is slightly more expensive than some of the other restaurants in town, but it is truly a bargain for the quality of food. There are 2 fixed menus each week, a 4-course and a 5-course menu. Actually, I think a multi-course meal at just about any restaurant in town would end up costing about the same. But at Cuisine Wat Damnak, you will get something really special.

I am not in the habit of writing restaurant reviews here, but this is a very special place and a very special chef. I continued to think about each meal, the flavors and combinations, for days after. If any of you find yourself lucky enough to be traveling in Cambodia, please visit Cuisine Wat Damnak in Siem Reap.

Julie

Up In The Air

2011-11-18T07:40:00.001-05:00

After 22-ish hours of travel - 19 of it in the air - I am home. That much air time is tough on anyone, but it can be especially problematic for those of us with or at high risk of lymphedema.

For long flights, I always wear my compression sleeve and glove (full fingered). It may not be the most comfortable clothing item I could sport, but it sure beats the discomfort of a lymphedema flare-up.

About a year after my surgery I had a couple of flare-ups. My hand and arm puffed up considerably. Luckily, I was able to get it under control by doing a lot of self-massage and exercises to stimulate the lymph system. But after the second time, my doctor had me get fitted for a sleeve. I don't need to wear it all the time, just when I'm doing some high-risk activity like being at high altitude or rock/ice climbing. Or on a long flight.

Besides wearing compression garments, there are several things we can do to help reduce the risk of edema when flying. And these things are good for general health when flying for anyone, too.

Drink plenty of water. Airplane air is dry. It's easy to get dehydrated when flying, causing the protein molecules in lymph to draw in and hold water, which can cause or worsen swelling. Drink non-alcoholic beverages often. This is also a good way to beat or lessen jet lag.

Get up and move. Sitting still for hours causes the lymph system to slow down, potentially allowing lymph to pool up in extremities. Get up (when it's allowable) and walk around a little. Do some stretching. Reach for the ceiling. Stretch your legs.

A great stretch to do on a plane is the psoas stretch. It can help counteract the effects of so many hours of sitting, which causes the psoas to tighten up and over-stretches the low back muscles....Stand up straight, step forward with one foot, keeping the back leg straight, heel on the ground. Your weight should be on the front, bent leg. The back leg should be straight with the heel down. Keep your torso up straight and push your hips slightly forward. You should feel a stretch in the fron of the hip of the back leg.

Exercise. There are a number of easy exercises you can do to stimulate your lymph system.

If you are at risk for upper-extremity lymphedema, do a lot of shoulder rolls. This can help relax you as well as help get the lymph flowing. Do some arm rotations: with your arms straight out to the side at shoulder height, make small circles to the back. Squeeze and stretch your hands. Do circles with your wrists. All of these movements will help to stimulate your lymph system. And moving your muscles helps to pump the lymph back up the arm and into your torso.

If your lower limbs are at risk, the same ideas apply. While seated, raise your heels, keeping your toes on the floor. Make small circles with your feet. Raise your feet off the ground and point and flex your feet. When you get up and walk around, spend some time standing on tip toes.

Most importantly, for both upper and lower limbs, do some ab work. If your trunk is congested, the lymph has nowhere to go. Do some tummy tucks while sitting in your chair. Sit up straight, gently draw your navel in toward your spine. Hold for a few seconds and release. You can add a rotation also. As you hold the tuck, rotate your torso 45 degrees to one side, then the other. Return to center and release the tuck. You can do the tummy tucks standing as well. Do some leg lifts. Sit up straight, slowly lift one leg, lower it, lift the other leg, repeat.

All of these exercises can easily be done in the cramped confines of economy class on a plane. Besides helping to reduce the risk of a lymphedema flare-up, they are good for your overall health. Moving as much as possible is a good way to prevent blood clots, and can help reduce jet lag. Getting a little exercise helps to keep your body functioning normally. And you'll feel less groggy at the other end of your trip.

Finally, if you have a layover, walk! You're tired and groggy, and it is so tempting to grab some food and slump down in a chair. But you'll feel so much better (really) if you just get up and walk.

I'm glad to have my 19 hours of air time behind me, and I'm wishing you healthy travels on your next trip.

Julie

Great American Smokeout - It's a choice!

2011-11-17T11:45:00.001-05:00

Today is the American Cancer Society's Great American Smokeout. The Smokeout was started 36 years ago to encourage people to stop smoking. And this is why my Life-Cise Daily Tip for today is You have the power to choose.

It's a choice. It's not an easy choice. But it is a choice. And you do have the power to choose.

Or rather, I guess I should say it's a series of choices, because it's not a choice you will make just once. You will continue to have to make the choice. You will choose every day - many times. Each time you would normally reach for a cigarette you have a choice to make.

But you do have the power to make a better/healthier choice.

The ACS and other orgs. offer help. There are plans and tips to help you.

If you still smoke, I hope you will use this day to choose something better. Choose to quit or choose to make a plan to quit. It is the very best choice you can make for a healthier life.

I admit that I don't really know what this choice is like. I have never been a smoker. Well, there were 2 weeks in 7th grade when I tried to smoke because I thought it was cool. For the life of me, I can't understand how I ever thought it was cool. But, I was 12 - what did I know? I wasn't very good at it; I really kind of hated it. So I made a big point of "quitting".

So, no, I don't really understand the pull. But I've seen very many friends struggle with quitting. And from them I know it comes down to a choice. It's not easy, but it is a choice.

It's up to you. You have the power to choose.

Julie

Other Ideas For Staying In Shape

2011-11-15T09:38:00.001-05:00

Stairs are not my only option for exercise on this vacation. We've been bicycling. This seemed like a good way to get around - once we got used to traffic. Riding through highway traffic at night took a little getting used to. Really it wasn't that bad once I got my courage up and just headed into the flow. Figuring out how to dodge motorbikes, tuk-tuks, food carts, and cars to make a left turn was a bit trickier. But probably the hardest thing was knowing witch side to take when faced with a motorbike or tuk-tuk coming at me on the wrong side of the road - do I take the outside or inside?

It was well worth it, though! Biking around the Angkor temples was magical.

It was also hot. So I really enjoyed my other form of exercise - swimming. My hotel had a lovely pool which I used every day. After sweating all day in upper-90 humid weather, it was great to come back and swim.

There was also some wading through rice paddies and tromping through forests in search of birds on a couple of birding trips.

I have no problem taking a little time off from training, but I've gotten used to choosing active, healthier choices for my life whenever possible. It's just become habit. If I have a choice between riding in a taxi or biking or walking, I'll make the active choice. It might not get me ready for a race, but it can help keep me healthy.

And if I run out of other things, there are always more stairs.

Julie

Keeping Up Some Leg Strength

2011-11-05T10:27:00.001-04:00

When traveling, it can be tough to keep up an exercise regime. Sometimes running (for those of us who are runners) is not a very good option. This is certainly true for me right now. I'm in Cambodia - it is super hot, humid, LOTS of traffic. And now that I'm out of Phnom Penh, there are dogs - kind of mangy looking street dogs. They all seem pretty calm, but I don't want to test them by running past.

But since I'm visiting temples, I've got another option for keeping up leg strength: stairs. These temples are filled with stairs. Yesterday I visited Angkor Wat - still can't believe I was actually at Angkor Wat! Angkor Wat is taller than Notre Dame Cathedral. But's not just up & down once - it's up, down, up, down, up up up, down.

That should keep some muscle tone. It may not be what I would normally be doing for exercise, but it is what I can do. And it's super amazing!

Julie

As If

2011-10-31T05:22:00.001-04:00

Live each day as if it were your last - we hear that a lot. It's one of those pat phrases offered up as sage advice on how to live a worthwhile and fulfilled life.

But practically speaking, it's kind of hard to really do that, even for those who have actually faced it as reality. I mean, if it were really the last day, would we do the laundry?

But how to live the spirit of that idea, I think that's the real question.

In attempting to live that spirit, I am writing this post from the Seoul airport, on my way to Cambodia. I had an opportunity and I took it. It wasn't quite that simple...my first response was to say no. I thought I had too much to do at home. But really, if it were the last day, would I rather be visiting Angkor Wat or doing laundry?

So here I am, on my way to Cambodia. I will attempt to keep up with posting while I'm traveling, maybe some ideas on staying fit while traveling, maybe just some pictures. I didn't bring my computer - a little freaky for me - but I have my iPhone (no, I don't have an iPad yet). This is my first attempt at posting from my phone - a bit slow, but doable.

Well, plane is boarding. Here's to living as if.

Julie

Maybe An Apology Is Necessary (but not for everything)

2011-10-27T11:55:00.000-04:00

I've been thinking a lot about the anonymous comment to my last post. Anonymous thinks I am completely insensitive to cancer patients and all they are going through by suggesting a little exercise might be good.

I am troubled that anyone could read my blog or the Life-Cise website and think that I am senselessly pushing people to exercise beyond their limits. I feel like I should apologize, or at least further explain.

By now there has been enough anecdotal evidence and rigorous research showing vast benefits from exercise throughout cancer treatments that I am so surprised to still encounter the attitude that cancer patients can't do any exercise. (You can find information on recent research on the Life-Cise News page.) I run into this occasionally from doctors and even patient support professionals. I once had the director of patient support at a major cancer center in New York tell me, "You don't understand, our ladies can't possibly do that! They're far too tired to exercise." Given the weight of scientific evidence to the contrary, this attitude shocks me every time!

What is sometimes missing from discussions about exercise, and what I constantly strive to impart to people, is appropriateness. As I said in my last post, there is no one correct amount or type of exercise. What is appropriate for you is completely individual. And it is never constant. Your exercise routine should never be routine! It should always be changing to reflect the current state of your body.

There are times that getting out of a chair or walking to the mailbox is an appropriate fitness challenge. I know, I've been there - too many times. At those times, I tried not to think about it as a failure or that I was too weak to do anything. I tried to see it as what I could do. It might be a shock that I had gone from being a very fit person, climbing mountains and skiing, to someone struggling to stand. But I chose to look at it as simply my starting point. It was just my current state, and a place from which to build.

I have on occasion been accused of being Pollyanna-ish in my outlook. Maybe so. But I also think it's a healthy way to look at it.

And I stand by my strong belief that exercise - whatever constitutes "exercise" for you at any given time - is good for more than just your body. Every time you choose to take the stairs, or go for a run, or struggle to walk to the next room rather than just sit and say you can't do anything, you are choosing health. You are making an active choice for something better than your current situation. You may not be where you want to be yet, but you are choosing to continue heading in that direction. And there is great power in that choice!

Fitness is about so much more than time on a treadmill or numbers on a scale. I strive in my writing and with my clients to stress that what matters is you as an individual. All cancer survivors are survivors in very individual ways. We experience cancer and our treatments (and their side effects) in our own way. So, too, should our fitness plans be individual. That's one of the reasons I offer individual exercise DVDs, developed and shot for each person, rather than offering a one-size-fits-all workout. What someone else is doing doesn't matter. Finding what is appropriate for you does matter.

If I have gotten away from that message of late with all my writing about goals and my own running adventures, I apologize. What I am doing has no bearing on what you can or should be doing - except maybe as a lesson in working toward a goal, or as a little inspiration. Whenever I give workshops, I stress that if people ever see me working out at the gym, they shouldn't be scared or freak out. I work out at a pretty intense level, but I never expect anyone else to do that. I always work with them to find what is safe and appropriate for them.

So, if I have not been clear or have gotten off-message, I apologize. I will try to do better in the future. But I do not apologize for encouraging you to stay involved and accountable for your fitness and your health. To push yourself, to strive for more, to claim the power in making choices. I do not apologize for wishing you great strength. I do not apologize for wanting you to feel as good as possible for as long as possible.

Julie

What Are You Waiting For?

2011-10-22T09:35:00.000-04:00

I ran into a friend the other day. We spent a few minutes on the street catching up. After talking through all of our recent doc visits (she's also a cancer survivor), talk turned to more fun things - exercise.

I talked about my most recent 50-mile race. We both talked about the wonderful addiction of exercise, especially running. But then my friend sheepishly apologized for not getting back to running more seriously since her treatments. Compared to what I was doing, she felt her few miles a week were insignificant.

I never want anyone to compare themselves to what I'm doing! I work out at a pretty intense level most of the time, and I fully admit that what I'm doing is a little crazy. I don't expect anyone else to do what I do.

Fitness achievement is only about you. Your improvement (or lack of) is just about you and where you started. It's a comparison with no one but yourself.... Are you able to do more than you could last month or last year? Are you stronger? Do you feel better than you did before?

The other thing that came up in conversation was the idea that she was sure she'd get back to it once she was through with XXXX. This is a really common idea - Let me just finish chemo or whatever, and then I'll get back to exercising. But there are a couple of problems with this thinking.

First, why wait? Why wait until after treatments, after interviews, after whatever that's keeping you from exercising? I think this idea stems from having basically one idea about what exercise is. We get an idea of what our workouts are. But there's no one way to exercise, and no set amount. Just because you don't have the time or stamina to do the same workout you did before doesn't mean you can't exercise. Do what's appropriate for you right now. If that means shorter or less intense workouts, fine. It's still a workout. Do what you can given your current circumstances.

Second problem is that putting exercise off becomes a habit, just like exercising can be. I used a quote from Martin Luther for yesterday's Life-Cise Daily Tip: How soon "not now" becomes "never". That pretty much sums it up. The act of exercising, as well as the exercise itself, is beneficial. The act of regularly doing something becomes a habit.

In my profile this month for Lucy clothing (www.Lucy.com), I talk about exercising all throughout my cancer treatments. I say that exercising always kept me headed in the right direction, toward health and toward life. My workouts definitely changed through the course of my treatments, but the act of working out didn't. I did whatever I could. I stayed in the habit of choosing health.

I always encourage people to keep exercising. You don't have to do the same things you did last month or 10 years ago, but choosing to do something keeps you in the habit of choosing health.

Julie

Metastatic Breast Cancer Awareness

2011-10-13T19:25:00.000-04:00

Today, October 13, is Metastatic Breast Cancer Awareness Day. Metastatic Breast Cancer (MBC) is the spread of the disease to other parts of the body, typically the bones, brain, lungs, or liver.

For all the pink hoopla of October, it amazes me that metastatic disease gets so little attention. It's estimated that around 155,000 people are living with MBC. Metastatic disease accounts for 40,000 deaths annually in the U.S. And yet, very little attention is paid in all the breast cancer news.

This is one of the problems I (and a lot of other BC survivors) have with all the "awareness" and the positive, feel good breast cancer stories. Yes, we face breast cancer and continue with our lives. Yes, many people find new meaning in their lives. Yes, life is good, even after a cancer diagnosis. Yes, it's great that people feel strong and empowered in spite of a cancer diagnosis - after all, that's what Life-Cise is all about!

But breast cancer - any cancer - is more than a ribbon. It's more than a walk. It's more than something to schedule and take care of so you can make your next meeting.

Early detection does improve chances of long-term survival, but anyone, no matter how early their cancer was detected, can later develop metastatic disease at any time - even years later.

My BC sisters living with MBC go on with their lives. They struggle, they laugh, they love. They raise children, go to work, get married or divorced. They live normal lives - except they live with a breast cancer that has spread and has no cure. They face their fears. They want to live as much or more than anyone. They live with the idea of "treatable, not beatable."

So today, I think of the many friends I have who are currently living with metastatic disease. And I remember the many friends who I have lost.

Julie

for more information on Metastatic Breast Cancer, please visit the Metastatic Breast Cancer Network.

#iSad

2011-10-06T13:23:00.000-04:00

‎"Remembering that I'll be dead soon is the most important tool I've ever encountered to help me make the big choices in life. Because almost everything — all external expectations, all pride, all fear of embarrassment or failure - these things just fall away in the face of death, leaving only what is truly important. Remembering that you are going to die is the best way I know to avoid the trap of thinking you have something to lose. You are already naked. There is no reason not to follow your heart." ~ Steve Jobs, 1955 - 2011

The world lost a visionary yesterday. Steve Jobs died of complications from pancreatic cancer. Tributes have flowed from all over the world. Facebook and Twitter are abuzz with quotes and thank yous. Five of the top 10 trending topics on Twitter are related to Jobs: #ThankyouSteve, #iSad, #ThinkDifferent, #RemeberingSteveJobs, #RIPSteveJobs. I quoted him for the Life-Cise Daily Tip: Your time is limited, so don't waste it living someone else's life. ~ Steve Jobs.

He was the source of seemingly endless innovations that married form and function elegantly. More than all the gadgets, though, he changed people's relationship to technology and each other. He took technology out of the realm of geeks into the world of moms and grandparents, business people and artists. He helped change how we read, communicate, research, listen. He had a vision of the world as a place where people living anywhere could have access to what they need. And in the process of creating tools to make that happen, he changed how we think, how we communicate, and how we live.

He didn't bring about this revolution by himself, and I'm sure he was not an easy man. He was driven, and stories abound of his being difficult. But in his drive, he changed the world. When he was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer in 2004, he didn't shrink from that vision. His drive continued in spite of treatments. Through it all, he remained the face of Apple. In August of this year, he finally stepped down as Apple's chief.

I find I'm surprisingly saddened by his death. I am inspired by his life. #RIPSteveJobs. #ThankyouSteve.

Julie

Move to Recover

2011-09-30T19:30:00.001-04:00

Running 50 miles in one day is tough.

This week is all about recovery for me. That doesn't mean I'm just lying around all day with my feet up. I'm doing active recovery.

After the race, I iced my tired, sore feet and legs. I took a warm shower, put on some comfy clothes and crawled into bed. I sat in bed with my feet propped up and ate a little food and drank a beer. Then I went to sleep.

The next day I drove 5 hours home. Being in the car for so long made all my muscles stiffen up. But once I was home, I put on my hiking boots and headed into the woods. I didn't go far and I didn't go fast. I walked for about a half hour. In the days since then, I've tried to do a little walk each day. Today I went for an easy 2-mile run.

It's so tempting, when we've overused muscles, to to nothing. Moving hurts, so we don't want to move. But not moving just prolongs recovery, making it that much harder to get back to normal.

Our muscles recover much faster when we continue to use them. Moving keeps things from tightening up even more. Moving gets blood flowing to the muscles. Moving helps to move any fluid from swelling out. Moving is good!

There's a reason why nurses make patients get up and move so soon after surgery. Moving gets all your body systems functioning again. It keeps your muscles from getting weak, thereby limiting your mobility even more. It helps clear your lungs.

I remember after my 10+ hr. mastectomy & reconstruction, with massive incisions everywhere, how I was quite convinced that my nurse was evil - literally evil - when she made me sit up and move to a chair. But she was right - it helped. I recovered remarkably quickly: my lungs were clear, my head was clear, I quickly regained my balance and strength.

Those nurses, they're on to something.

Whether you're recovering from over-exertion, surgery, or some types of injury, recover by moving. OK, a serious injury where you've broken or torn something does not apply. If your doctor tells you to stay off your feet or not to move something, do what she tells you!

But the rest of us, move to recover.

Julie

Run, Julie, Run - Vermont 50 Race Report

2011-09-27T13:20:00.000-04:00

Yay! Yes, I did it. Fifty miles in 11:39.

First, I want to thank everyone involved in putting on the Vermont 50 Bike & Ultra Run. It was a great event benefiting Vermont Adaptive Ski & Sport. The race organizers did a great job, especially considering the devastation of Irene that they had to contend with. They had to do a lot of last minute trail maintenance and re-routing. But they got it together and provided us with a challenging course through stunningly beautiful country. Thanks to everyone who helped make it possible.

Many special thanks to the FABULOUS volunteers all along the course on race day. These guys spent long hours offering us refreshment, assistance, and lots of encouragement. Thank you - I can't say it enough - thank you!

And also a huge thank you to the local landowners who make this race possible. The course criss-crosses park land and private. Without the owners' permission, this race would not happen. We so appreciate that you all agreed to allow hundreds of bikers and runners to stream through your land. You are all wondrous and beautiful human beings!

Someday, I'd like to learn how to get some sleep before a race. Maybe as I run more races, I won't be quite so anxious/excited before and can get more than a couple hours of sleep.

Up at 4:00am. Get ready - shower, some coffee, a little food. Re-check that I've got everything. Re-check again. Drive through the dark to arrive by 5:15 check-in.

Driving down the highway in the dark, I'm nervous. As I approach the exit, I realize there really is a lot of traffic for this hour. And most of them are getting off at my exit. There's a steady stream of cars winding along these roads, heading the same way I am - members of my tribe. All these headlights represent at least one other crazy person. My tribe. OK, most of them are faster and better members of the tribe, but they're still my people.

5:15, check in, mill about, eat, pee, eat, drink. Bikers, bikes, runners everywhere. Bikers are the ones in the helmets. And family and friends. I'm amazed at these people who get up at this ridiculous hour to send off their running or biking partners. We also drop off donations of food and supplies for the hard-hit families of Vermont.

It's hot. It's the end of September, and it's hot! And humid! It's close to 70 degrees at 6:00 in the morning and dripping wet. Temperature is expected to get close to 80. This is not good for me! Not good for anyone who's trying to cover 50 miles in anything other than a car, but I really have trouble with heat. This worries me.

6:00, first wave of bikes head out into the dark. Waves of bikes leave over the next 25 minutes. 6:35, 50 mile runners. I need to be back here in 12 hours.

The start of a race is always a little anti-climactic. Getting a couple hundred runners going is a gradual process - this is not a sprint. We walk, shuffle, and jog until we space out and fall into the rhythm of our run.

The course is a mix of roads, most of them dirt or gravel, and trails. We wind our way through incredibly picturesque Vermont farms and woods. We pass fields, horses, cut through woods, go over and through streams. We chat with the aid station volunteers as they help us refill our water bottles and get us back on our way. We wave to the locals who have come out to watch & cheer us on.

I have to work really hard to stay hydrated. Sweat is poring off me, not dripping - poring. I will not need the long sleeved shirts I packed in my drop bags along the course. I sip my water often, take electrolyte caplets at regular intervals, and snack when I can. The aid stations are great. The volunteers help us re-fill bottles. They have a variety of drinks and snacks: water, Heed (a type of sport/electrolyte drink), soda, chips, fruit, peanut butter sandwiches, ramen noodles in chicken broth, cookies, chocolate. My personal fave of the day: ramen noodles - liquid, salty, noodles! And later in the day a special treat: orange slices that I dip in salt - it's like a happy little margarita!

The trail sections are beautiful! But muddy. Much are better than I feared, given how much rain Vermont has gotten this Fall. But there are sections that are like a lake of mud. I'm very pleased that I chose to wear gaiters! In places, the mud is more than ankle-deep. This is loose-your-shoe-deep mud. Several times, I do almost pull out of my shoe. I hear the sucking sound as my foot goes in and feel the shoe stick. I have to suddenly clench my toes to keep my shoe on.

And all the while, we laugh, we curse, we chat, we look out for one another, we encourage each other. We are members of the tribe. We all understand the elation and the struggle. If someone stumbles, we offer a hand. We offer words of encouragement when we see someone's will flagging. We step to the side and cheer them on when someone else has a spurt of energy and passes us. And we know they'll do the same for us.

We exchange stories and make new friends. There are so many inspirational stories. Someone who was fat and a chain smoker a year ago, now running his first ultra marathon. A married couple who decided this was something they could train for and do together. Others just taking on a new challenge or facing fears. My favorite story of the day, however, was the guy who is a Type 1 diabetic running his first 50 miler with his insulin pump pinned to his pack. Oh, and he was just diagnosed with MS. I ran with him for a short while at the beginning of the race. I lost track of him by the end. I have no idea how he did. I don't think it matters. He was out there. He faced his diseases, acknowledged the risks and challenges, and decided to try to be more than their limitations. Did he finish? I don't know. I don't care - he tried!

My GPS watch didn't charge fully, so my battery dies sooner than I expect. Then I'm left trying to figure out my pace from the time I arrive at the aid stations. In my fatigue, I am completely incapable of doing any math! I try to calculate my pace, but can't: Wait, OK, there are 60 minutes in an hour, right? OK, 7 miles in an hour and a half is what? 60 plus 30 is 90. 90 divided by 7 is what? 7 into 9, 7 into 9, 7 into 9....wait, where was I? There are 60 minutes in an hour. What's my pace? Wait.... It's utterly shocking to think that at one time I was considered good at math!

I'm worried about making the cutoff of 12 hours. I am not a fast runner. I'm arriving at the aid stations well-ahead of the cutoffs, but I'm tired and having trouble from the heat. My muscles are cramping up sometimes. I'm tired. I'm tired of walking, I'm tired of running, I'm tired of sweating.

I believe that if I can keep my pace, I will make it. But I'm filled with doubts. When I need it most, I get help from other runners. When I'm having trouble getting going after leaving an aid station, can't make myself run, a couple of guys come by at a good steady pace. I fall in behind them. It's easier to get running when I can just watch their feet in front of me. I thank them; they welcome my company. We run together for a while. We take turns leading up the hills. Later, I meet Mario. We're both worried about time. We're in the last 10 miles. We know we can finish, but in time? I pass him in a sudden wave of energy. He falls in behind and keeps pace with me. We chat and we run in silence. We admire the view. When my energy lags, Mario takes the lead. He encourages me up the hills. Eventually, I am unable to continue at his pace, but I am grateful to have had his company for a while.

Finally, a sign saying 5 miles! And I have plenty of time to do it! I have pushed myself and now I know that I can almost walk the rest of it and still make the cutoff. I cannot describe the total elation at the moment of realizing that this really is within my grasp!

And then the despair at coming to another uphill, and then another, and another. The final aid station is less than 3 miles from the end. I am ready to cry when I realize how much more uphill there is in those last 3 miles. It seems so unfair, and I am so tired. I just don't want to run anymore. There are 4 of us who end up grouping together, more or less, for the end of the run. We try to make jokes, we try to laugh. We curse - well, I curse. I talk to myself. I remind myself to run. I remind myself to run with proper form.

Then there's a man coming toward us - about a mile and a quarter to go, good job! Yay! We're almost there!... But then there are more hills, more damn hills! Then there's another man - about 1400ft until the you hit the ski slopes & you're there! Yay! We're almost there!... But what does 1400ft mean? At this point, my brain cannot process any numbers except time. I understand time. I understand that I have to cross the finish line before 6:35 - 12 hours after we started. Finally the ski slopes - yay! We can hear the cheering at the finish line... But it's over there. We have to cross over this slope, then another, then wind our way down and across another.

Now, there's the finish! Now, yay! Now, the final downhill - ow! Kids are lining the end of the course, cheering us on. I get in a few high fives with some cute, young boys waiting to cheer on their father. I pick up the pace. I'm now leading my little band of 4 runners. Everything hurts, but I want to finish strong. There, the finish - 11:39 - yay!

Congratulations all around! I guess someone won the race, but at this moment no one cares. We finished - yay!

Oh, and did I mention there was mud?

Julie

Run, Julie, Run - Butterflies

2011-09-24T09:18:00.000-04:00

I'm just finishing packing. I'll leave in a couple hours to drive to Vermont for my next 50-mile race, the Vermont 50. Proceeds from the race help to fund Vermont Adaptive Ski & Sport, a program that helps everyone get out and enjoy the outdoors, no matter what their limitations.

The race is tomorrow, 6AM start. Cutoff is 6PM. If you have a minute during the day tomorrow (any time, I'll be out there a long time), send me some good strong vibes.

I'm nervous. I'm always nervous. I've done my preparation, but I'm still nervous. I had such a good race last Spring when I ran the North Face Bear Mountain 50. I wonder if that was an aberration - just dumb beginners' luck. I wonder how this will be. But I know that every race is different. It's a different day; it's a different race. Just do the thing that's right in front of you, Julie.

And adding to my nerves is my last long run. I had been feeling good about my prep., but then had a really bad last long run. As I wrote before, I know that 16 miles is not nothing. It would be considered pretty good for most people. And I know that one workout doesn't mean all that much. But mentally it kind of freaked me out.

I've tried to put it behind me - mostly I have - until this morning. I had a very good speed workout with my coach on Tuesday, and I got in a gentle run and some stretching the rest of the week. I'm rested; my muscles feel pretty good. But my brain is churning.

I'm hoping that this last long run is like a bad dress rehearsal for a concert. Often, when a dress reh. doesn't go well, it bodes well for the concert. Everyone redoubles their efforts and concentration, and the results are good. So I'm hoping that was my bad dress rehearsal.

Oh, and stop by the Life-Cise Forum for a discussion of runners' injuries. There's a recent question, and I welcome input from any of you runners. I'm still relatively new to running (just have run a LOT of miles), and I've never had any real issue with running injury. I don't have any of the knee or hip problems that a lot of people have who have been running for years. Please share your thoughts.

Alright, I'm off. Finish packing, drive, drive, register, eat, sleep, run, and run, and run....

Julie

Healthy Lifestyles at the United Nations

2011-09-21T20:46:00.000-04:00

I was excited that this week the United Nations held a 2-day summit on non-communicable diseases (NCDs). There were high-level meetings discussing the social and economic costs of NCDs and ways to combat the issue worldwide, including healthier diets, more physical activity, and less tobacco and alcohol use. (I wrote about the summit on the Life-Cise News page.)

NCDs, most notably heart disease, cancer, diabetes, chronic lung disease, and mental illness, have a huge economic and social impact. They pose a clear threat to the economies of the world, especially for lower and middle income nations. A report by the World Economic Forum which was released in advance of the UN summit estimates that NCDs will cost the world $47 trillion in the next 20 years. That includes medical costs, non-medical costs, lost productivity and lives. Cancer alone is expected to cost $458 billion by 2030.

The answer, or part of it, according to the report and the conclusion of the U.N. General Assembly is lifestyle - a healthier one - and access to healthcare for all. Recommendations were to promote healthier diet and more physical activity, reduce tobacco and alcohol use (the World Economic Forum suggested the possibility of higher tobacco and alcohol taxes), and provide better access to healthcare, including mental health.

Yea for the U.N.! It is abundantly clear that NCDs are a large and increasing burden around the world. Dietary changes - like more fast food available worldwide - and a more sedentary lifestyle have produced a dramatic increase in many of these diseases. And it is only getting worse. So, good for the U.N. for beginning to address the issue. They did so because the problem has gotten bad enough that there's real potential for real economic devastation across the globe, not to mention the social and personal suffering.

And I'm pleased to see the emphasis on healthy lifestyle. These are low-cost, accessible solutions. No, exercise and eating right will not solve the problem. People will still have heart attacks; they'll still get cancer. (A whole lot of us are examples of that.) But we do know that a healthier lifestyle will have a positive affect. It won't eliminate NCDs, but it can reduce them.

All is not happiness and light in this story, however. Because of pressure from the food industry, the resolution to address the issue included few specifics. There was no limit set on salt intake, for example. This prompted around 150 organizations to sign a Conflict of Interest Declaration, published in The Lancet, calling for greater transparency in how the U.N. engages with the food and beverage industry.

For example, I listened to some of the meetings which were streamed live. I heard representatives of the food and beverage industry calling for action on this important issue. But they are representing some of the large corporate interests which are a large part of the problem. Obesity and all the health issues associated with it, including diabetes, cancer, and heart disease, is certainly affected by fast food and sugary sodas.

The signers of the declaration acknowledge that industry can be part of the solution. However, they caution that corporations which profit from sale of alcohol, tobacco, and unhealthy foods should only be brought in once policy has been made. They should not be part of making the policy.

All in all, I still find this a positive story. I am glad that attention is being paid and solutions are being sought. It's not perfect, but it might be enough - for now.

Julie

Conflicted

2011-09-19T20:14:00.001-04:00

Yesterday, I went to watch someone else race. Actually, I was late, so I didn't get to see my friend race. But she did finish 2nd - yea, Jen!

The event was the NYC Komen Race for the Cure, and Jen is someone I met running the Komen race in 2008(?). Jennifer and I were up front, running with the other survivors. I was very new to running, and she was new to cancer, being in the middle of chemo. She took off fast (she was not new to running). When I caught up to her, she was fading, ready to stop. I slowed to run with her, offering whatever encouragement I could. I was so impressed that she was running - running - the race. She was bugged that she was so slow; she had been a competitive runner. I tried to convince her that her time didn't matter that day. There would be other days for that. It was enough that she was there. We ran the rest of the race together, alternately encouraging each other.

We emailed a few times, but lost touch. Recently, through Young Survival Coalition and the wonder that is Facebook, we reconnected. (I love these weird circles of connectedness) It's great to see her healthy and doing well - running races & triathlons.

So there I was, watching, not running, the Komen race. And it brought me face to face with all my conflicted feelings about Komen.

Komen has gotten a lot of justifiable bad press in the last couple of years, from in and out of the cancer community. Their legal battles against other cancer non-profits turned many of their supporters away in shame. Some of their corporate partnerships have raised eyebrows. There are questions - legitimate ones - about where their money goes. There is a lack of transparency for their funding. Nowhere on their site can one find what percentage of donations goes to what programs. Does the money go to research? What research? Does the money go to provide free mammograms? Does the money go to programs that support women currently fighting the disease?

Some of the criticism comes from the breast cancer community itself. Many wonder why, if your name is "for the cure", is such a small amount of money raised spent on research? Others would like to see less emphasis on awareness (isn't there enough of that by now?), and more on programs that benefit those who have the disease. But mostly, critics would like more transparency.

Of course, Komen does not stand alone in the ring of legal wrangling. Plenty of big non-profits tie up smaller ones in long legal battles. Some of the biggest and most popular cancer groups do this - just more quietly than Komen. Let's face it, big non-profits are Big Business!

I understand the need to protect one's brand, but these fights do nothing to help the people these groups are claiming to help. Yes, protect your brand, your logo. But really, does anyone own a color - or a common word that many people might use in connection with fighting cancer? While you're busy suing others, you're not helping your cause. You're wasting your attention and our money!

But I said I was conflicted....there's a lot of good, too. There is a strength and power in these large events. Yup, I got teary-eyed.

With all of my reservations about Komen, I cannot deny the sense of community and empowerment felt by the survivors yesterday. For that day, they are not alone fighting their disease. They are backed by 20,000+ people all headed the same direction. They see others in all stages of the fight - newly diagnosed, young, grandmothers, long-term survivors, runners, survivors in wheelchairs being pushed by loved ones. They are not alone. They are fighting and they are raising money. There is power in that action.

And these events are important for the families and friends, as well. Our loved ones suffer along with us - not in the same way as we do - but it is hard on them. They stand by us feeling helpless, and here is this event that let's them do something.

For everyone who has felt encouraged and empowered by one of these big events, I thank Komen.

And I thank Komen for helping to change how we view breast cancer. When I was growing up, breast cancer was still only spoken of in hushed tones. There was such a stigma - against disease in general, but especially breast cancer - breasts, my god! Women often felt guilty, that they somehow were letting their husbands and families down. It's reported that when Nancy Reagan woke up from surgery, her first words to Ronald were, "I'm so sorry." But some very tough women tried to change all that - Betty Ford, Happy Rockefeller, and many others. Komen was part of that change. Komen helped lead us into a world where we can all be as open, public, or private about our disease as we choose. Into a world where it's a disease, it's not our fault. Into a world where we don't have to apologize to anyone because we don't have breasts.

I am a beneficiary of this. Thank you, Komen - and all the women who came before me and refused to sit quietly in hiding!

For all the good, thank you, Komen. But there's the conflict: I don't deny all of that good. I just want more.

Julie

Run, Julie, Run - Long Run Fail

2011-09-17T19:46:00.001-04:00

My last post was about accepting that sometimes good enough is enough. In the comments I wrote that the post was as much a reminder to myself as anyone - that's often true. No matter what your goal - having the strength and energy to walk to the mailbox, lifting 20lbs., walking 5 miles, or running 50 - the principals of reaching that goal are largely the same.

This idea that less than perfect is enough, that an honest effort will do (even if the results are less than planned) is such a hard lesson for me. And it seems to be the lesson of the week.

Today was my long run, my last long run before next week's Vermont 50 - my next 50 mile race.

Long run FAIL! - I only managed 16 miles. That's a far cry from the 38 miles I had planned.

OK, I know that 16 miles on steep trails is not nothing. I know that in a lot of people's eyes, 16 miles is pretty impressive. But I had planned on 38 - or at least something close.

My body had other plans, however. I started off pretty well. I had moments of great fun. But then everything started to change, and not in a good way. I was just tired. I've been a little tired and headachy for a couple of days (possibly fighting something off??). I was running out of steam. I changed my planned course to loop back by my house so I could have a snack and refill all my water bottles. (I always carry food and water with me, but on a long run it's hard to carry enough and there's nowhere to refill when I'm running trails.) I even had a quick cup of espresso, hoping that would perk me up.

It was really tough to force myself out of the house and back onto the trails. I ended up only going another 4 miles after that break. I simply couldn't make myself go. It wasn't about nutrition or hydration; I simply didn't have the energy today. Even running (and sometimes walking) the 16 miles was a huge struggle. My legs didn't want to move. All I wanted to do was sleep.

I wanted to persevere. I wanted to pull it out, struggle through and do it. I wanted to be like Frodo and Samwise Gamgee in Lord of the Rings, struggling ever forward, against all odds, to their goal. Instead of Lord of the Rings, it was more like The Wizard of Oz - "Poppies, poppies....sleep my pretties." Maybe there's a Wicked Witch hiding in these woods....

So I came back home and took a bath. I can barely keep my eyes open at this point. I'm just tired.

Of course, once I was home, I kept thinking maybe if could have done it. While lying in the tub, I thought, "maybe I should go back out - I'm sure I could do a few more miles...."

I know that I am capable of pushing myself beyond anything I thought possible: I climbed Mt. Rainier just one year after finishing a full year of cancer treatment, I summited Aconcagua in spite of puking the whole way (the joys of e coli), I ran 50 miles, and I finished every one of my cancer treatments when I was sure I couldn't face one more. I am very capable of struggling forward and pulling it out.

But I also know the importance of listening to your body. And today, my body was telling me "NO!"

I listened. I know that exhausting myself in an effort to prove something to myself one week before a big race is foolish. And I know that one workout does not determine my overall fitness or readiness for this race. I am sure that it was the right thing to do, but I am disappointed.

So now, instead of feeling triumphant after my final long run, I am struggling to accept that a good, honest effort is good enough. And that good enough is just that - good enough.

Julie

Good Enough

2011-09-15T15:05:00.002-04:00

Last week was a rough one. I was traveling home, got stuck driving in the remnants of yet another hurricane, narrowly escaped the flood waters of the Susquehanna, felt my heart break at the sight of the devastation the raging waters was causing, and then spent the weekend remembering....My weekend was filled with music - the music of remembrance.

My training took a backseat. Normally, that's not such a terrible thing. None of us are professional athletes; sometimes life gets in the way of our best exercise plans. As long as our overall trajectory stays on target, a day or two here and there isn't going to make a huge difference.

But I'm training for a specific goal. My next 50 mile race - the Vermont 50 - is next week. My workouts at this stage really are important; there's no time to make it up later.

I needed to get in a long run on the weekend, but had concerts. I planned to get up early on Sunday, run 26 miles, then go play a concert. Running a marathon right before playing a big concert is certainly not ideal. I need to rest and recover after a long run, not get dressed up in high heels. But this was my only option.

Unfortunately, I didn't get started as early as I needed. I knew I wouldn't make 26 miles.

The perfect is the enemy of the good. ~ Voltaire

That was the Life-Cise Daily Tip I posted the next day. (it's easy to sign up for the Daily Tips & Newsletter from Life-Cise.com)

I knew I couldn't get in the full run - I'm not that fast. I had to decide: run fewer miles, or skip it and try to make it up the next day. I chose to run as many miles as I could, which turned out to be around 20. It wasn't perfect, but it was good enough.

It's so easy to just put off the workout if we can't do what we planned: "Oh, I'll never get in 26 miles, I'll just wait and do it tomorrow. I'll get an earlier start." Or, "I will only have 20 minutes at the gym. It's probably not worth it, I'll just do more tomorrow." The problem is, all too often the tomorrows pile up and we never get it done.

We don't have to be perfect in our quest for a healthy life. Getting something done, even if it's not ideal, is always better than nothing. Getting something done consistently is what leads to a healthy life, it's what gets us to our goals.

Don't put off being good enough because it's not perfect.

Julie

It Begins....

2011-09-06T16:08:00.002-04:00

I just got my first Facebook messages about Breast Cancer Awareness Month. It used to just be confined to the month of October, but maybe breast cancer awareness needs more room. Or maybe the month of October has been trademarked.

This is a continuation of the stupid little viral FB game: 2 years ago it was women posting the color of their bra; last year it was the location of their handbag, saying that's where they like to do it. No mention of breast cancer, no funding for research or free mammograms, nothing but a slightly titillating phrase: I like to do it on the kitchen table, hall closet, rocking chair, whatever.

This year's "fun" is based on our birthdays. Your birth month is assigned a number of weeks, your date corresponds to a snack that you will claim to be craving. The result is something like "I'm 12 weeks and I'm craving meatballs." Once again, no mention of cancer, no funding for research or any useful services.

So, for the next couple of months I guess we get to read a bunch of updates that sound like a whole lot of women are in the throes of pregnancy cravings.

I'm generally all for increasing awareness, especially if it's aimed at younger people who don't think much about breast cancer - assuming breast cancer is a disease of their mothers or grandmothers. And I'm also in favor of having fun! However, these stupid little viral games have bugged me from the start. I believe that if you're going to have an awareness campaign, you really ought to provide something useful - you know, information or funding or something.

Also, I think that any awareness campaign should not be hurtful to the people who actually have that disease. These viral games, while they may seem like harmless fun to many, actually touch on some potentially very painful issues for those of us who live with breast cancer.

And this one is particularly painful. Most younger women who get breast cancer (or any type of cancer) will have to deal with fertility issues. Chemotherapy and other drugs often cause instant, premature menopause. Sometimes the menopause is only temporary, sometimes not. Even if it's just temporary, the years spent fighting our disease may have been the years we needed to start a family.

The reality of cancer is not charming or titillating. Cancer is ugly. Cancer is not a game. Many of us go on and live good, fulfilled lives. But cancer is ugly. Our bodies are cut and rebuilt, mangled beyond our recognition. We sit and feel our libido drain from our bodies - yes, it is hard to get excited about sex when you feel like puking. We may suffer joint and muscle pain. Our hands and feet may burn, tingle, or become numb. We lose function of limbs, organs, and sometimes our brains. We get lost in the fog of "chemobrain" - losing our ability to complete sentences, remember, or understand. We lose work because we're too sick, or maybe just because we make other people nervous - being the perfect picture of their deepest fears. We watch our childbearing years pass while taking various drugs that we hope will save our lives.

And that's for those of us who are lucky enough to survive. (and that's just the physical losses - not even getting into the depression and fears)

I'm someone who tends to focus on what I have, not what I've lost. I've lived with the reality of breast cancer for 10 years now, and I have a great life that's full of laughter, love, and fun. But it is also filled with loss - loss caused by breast cancer.

My body is not the body I lived with for most of my life. I'm cut and pasted. I have large areas of my body that have little or no feeling at all - stomach, breast, part of my hips, upper part of my arm. I'm constantly on the lookout for signs of lympedema - swelling of the arm or torso for which there is no cure. I still suffer from a slight aphasia, the result of lingering effects of chemotherapy on my brain. I suffer weakness and loss of range of motion for which I continue to struggle to compensate. I consider myself lucky that, unlike many others, I did not suffer any permanent heart damage from my drugs. And I knew that after so many years of life-saving drugs, trying to get pregnant in my mid-40s might be theoretically possible, but a great longshot. I knew that I would likely be able to respond to the question, "Do you have children?" by saying, "No, I had cancer instead."

But I am someone who tends to focus on what I have, not on what I've lost. So, I relish in the things I can do. I can run - far. I can climb; I can swim; I can windsurf; I can ski. I can write and try to encourage others to find all the things they can do - and then do a little more. I can teach others to be more self-sufficient, to be strong enough to do the things that matter to them. And while I may sometimes hide my tears behind dark glasses at the beach while I watch the young families with envy, I can be thrilled at the good fortune of my friends. I can be a great aunt - the one who's always fun & encouraging. I can do and be many wonderful things, but I will never be some cute, sexy young thing with a perfect body wearing a sexy bra, and I will never be 12 weeks and craving meatballs.

I am 0 weeks and am craving nothing - because I had cancer instead.

I don't want to discourage anyone from having fun. Write silly, titillating FB posts. Just don't use my body and my losses for your fun. Please - it's just too painful.

And if you want to do something for cancer awareness, do something that matters, something that might actually help. Donate to an organization that provides free mammograms to low-income women. Give money or time to a group that helps fund research. (if you need suggestions for good programs, ask me) Volunteer to drive people to their chemo appointments. Write your state representatives to re-instate funding for programs for cancer screening for low-income individuals - most states, like NY, have drastically slashed funding for such needed programs. Or, the next time your friend/sister/colleague whines about getting a mammogram or going to her gyno, tell her to shut up and go! Invite your friend to start an exercise program with you - we know that regular moderate exercise reduces many cancers, especially breast cancer.

For now, I'll get on my bike and ride - that's one thing that I can do.

Julie

Encounter In The Park

2011-08-15T20:43:00.000-04:00

I'm back in my hometown for my 30th high school reunion (can I just say, OMG - 30 years!!??). I was a bit trepidatious because I hadn't kept in touch with anyone - would I remember anyone, would they remember me? Turned out to be hugely fun! I loved seeing my old classmates and catching up. I also loved spending a few lovely days with my parents.

And I got in a few good runs. I ran a couple of times at McNaughton Park, which is the site of a 100-mile trail race. (you know that has me thinking....)

And today, I went out to James Field, here in Pekin, to run speed drills. I wasn't the only one out exercising in the mid-day sun; there were several others who came out to walk a few laps while I was running. At some point, while I was resting between laps, some guy got out of his car to comment on what a hard workout I was doing. And then he told me how he can't run and doesn't feel like he can do much of anything anymore.

I resisted the urge to state the obvious: you'd feel a whole lot better if you would lose 50 pounds. Instead, I tried to make it a teaching moment.

I pointed out that you don't have to run. There are plenty of other ways to move. And I used one of the walkers as my perfect example. She was out walking. She wasn't running; she wasn't even walking particularly fast. But she was walking. She comes out just about every day and walks several laps around the park.

Good fo her! She is what I so frequently talk about: do what you can. You don't have to go fast or far. You don't have to be a gifted athlete. You just have to try and be consistent. It does make a difference.

So, thank you to my fellow exerciser today. You helped me make a valuable point. (It turns out that her daughter graduated a year behind me. I remember her, although I was busy with music and she played basketball so we didn't really know each other.)

And I hope that maybe just a little of what I said sunk in.

Julie

Do What You Love - And Keep Doing It

2011-08-09T23:20:00.000-04:00

In my continuing search for inspiration, I want to look at some folks who have defied expectations. And because my birthday is this week, I'm thinking in particular of people who have continued to excel beyond an age at which others expect them to stop or slow down.

First, a belated congratulations to Cadel Evans for his win of this year's Tour de France. Evans became the oldest person to win the race in 88 years; he is 34. The Tour is a grueling stage race that is normally dominated by younger riders. His win fulfilled the dying wishes of his longtime coach, Aldo Sassi, who died of brain cancer last December.

And, although she did not succeed in her goal of swimming from Cuba to Key West (without a shark cage), Diana Nyad certainly deserves a hearty well done! She first attempted the swim in 1978, at age 28. Now 61, Nyad made her second attempt. She made it slightly more than halfway, but was stopped by shoulder pain and large ocean swells.

To my mind, it doesn't matter that she didn't make it. I marvel at her trying. I'm sure she is crushed, but wow, what an attempt!

I love that there are people who exceed ideas of what is possible at any age. I love that my mother does pushups in her 70s. I love that my coach is 60-something (not really sure of his age). I love that I just read about Ernestine Shepherd, a 75 year old trainer and competitive body builder.

I love that I have so many examples to look at of people who find something they like and then keep doing it. They don't stop because some commentator thinks they may be getting past their prime. They don't stop because all of their friends are slowing down and sitting around watching TV. They keep doing what they enjoy because it enriches their lives - and because they enjoy it.

You who have been around here a while know that I'm less concerned with big achievements than with trying. Success is more about the process than the finish line. Even though I push myself for some crazy goals, I don't expect anyone else to do the same. We all have our own goals, expectations, and limitations. Our goals have to be ours. You don't have to want to swim anywhere or run a marathon. But do find something you enjoy, something that excites you. Do what you can - whatever you are capable of. And then push just one step further. Try. You might succeed. You might fail. But you do have the power to try.

Let's hear it for changing expectations - whether the expectations are about age, or disease, or size, or some other condition that others might consider a handicap. Defy expectations. Do something you love, and just keep doing it.

Julie

I Have A New Hero

2011-08-03T10:11:00.001-04:00

I have a new hero.

On Monday, Rep. Gabrielle Giffords returned to Washington to cast her vote in the debt ceiling vote. For those of you around the world who might not know about Gabby Giffords, she represents her Arizona district in the U.S. Congress. Last January, while meeting with voters at a shopping center near Tuscon, an attempt was made on her life. She was critically injured by a gunshot wound to the head. Six other people were killed, and 13 injured in the attack. Miraculously, she didn't die. Over the last 8 months, through several surgeries and continued rehab, Rep. Giffords has made amazing progress. She travelled in May to watch the launch of the final flight of the space shuttle Endeavor, which was commanded by her husband. In June, she was released from the rehab hospital and allowed to live at home. And this week, she returned to Washington to vote.

I know what it's like to be seriously injured and to be seriously ill. I know what it's like to struggle to maintain a life when my body is failing me. I know what it's like to have physical deficits, to lose function. And I know what it's like to live with pain. I know the struggle to improve and to overcome. - We all do. I think most of the readers of this blog have too much knowledge of the loss of body and the struggle to overcome.

But I cannot begin to imagine what the last 8 months have been like for Gabrielle Giffords.

My admiration has nothing to do with my politics or hers. This has nothing to do with cancer. But it has everything to do with struggle and overcoming obstacles. It's about accepting losses and figuring out how to make the most of what's left. It's about not whining about what's gone, but rather finding ways to still lead a good and meaningful life. It's about endless hours of pain and frustration while trying to recover the ability to do simple things that are easily taken for granted, like saying hello or telling her husband she loves him. It's about facing and overcoming fear. It's about making choices every day to try to be a little better. It's about continuing to move forward in spite of everything.

I have no idea what is in her future, whether she'll eventually return to her job in Congress or find a new direction for her career. It will continue to be filled with struggle and overcoming obstacles. Whatever happens, I am filled with admiration and wish her well.

Congresswoman Giffords, thank you. Thank you for your service, and thank you for a very big dose of inspiration!

Julie

Run, Julie, Run - The Next Goal

2011-08-01T20:26:00.000-04:00

Yesterday, I registered for my next big goal: the Vermont 50. It takes place the end of September, in the mountains of Vermont. It should be gorgeous then - perfect running weather for me, and peak Fall colors.

This will be my second 50 mile race. It's got just over half the elevation gain of the Bear Mountain 50M, but the cutoff is 12 hours, 2 hours shorter. Even though it's not as steep a course, it's likely to be plenty challenging for me. Two hours is a lot to cut off.

But no matter, it will be fun.

And, best of all, the race supports a great cause: Vermont Adaptive Ski & Sport. I want everyone to be able to enjoy the outdoors and feel empowered by challenging themselves in new and different ways - ways they may have thought were impossible for them. And I love that by doing something that I enjoy, I am doing a small part to help someone achieve a dream.

So, I'm beginning to log in some longer runs again, racking up the miles and the hills...but that's all part of the fun.

Julie

Who Forgot The Anniversary?!?!?

2011-07-29T19:07:00.000-04:00

Most of you know that 2011 marks 10 years of not dying of breast cancer for me (yea me!). And I've been celebrating. My big celebration/goal was running the North Face Bear Mountain 50-Mile Endurance Race. If you are new to this blog, you can read about my adventures and misadventures in becoming an ultra runner in my series "Run, Julie, Run".

And the celebration continues with some other big, fun races...and maybe a big trip - something exotic. More about that once decisions are made.

But the actual anniversary (or birthday, as I like to think of it) blew right past me. No nice dinner, no flowers, no special bottle of wine. Not because I didn't want to mark the actual date, but because I can't remember the date. I figure my surgery date is the date that counts most to me - when cancer was removed rather than when it was discovered. I know it's toward the end of July, mainly because I know that when I climbed Mt. Rainier a year after finishing treatment, summit day was the 2-year anniversary of my surgery. I know I climbed Rainier in late July.

This strikes me as a good thing. People often ask when life gets back to normal, when they will stop thinking about cancer all the time. I tell them it's not quite like that. Normal is different now. I don't know when we stop thinking about cancer. I still think something about cancer every single day. Now, in part, that's because I started a business offering fitness training for other cancer survivors: www.Life-Cise.com.

But I also tell them that over time the way I think about cancer changes. Yes, there are still very scary moments. Yes, I still get angry. I still get depressed. But it's no longer this big, looming cloud darkening all my thoughts.

Forgetting my anniversary/birthday seems like a good example. I'm celebrating 10 years of life that I wasn't sure I would get. Woo-hoo! But the actual day is insignificant to me now.

The fact that I forgot it seems more significant.

So, to all you newbies, to any of you in the midst of treatment, or struggling to move on: it does change; it does get better. It will always be with you, but in new and different ways.

Let's toast to all those details that seem so indelibly etched in our memories becoming so much less significant - for us all!

Julie

Surviving The Heat

2011-07-22T20:14:00.000-04:00

Much of the U.S. is in the midst of a major heatwave.... I write that as though any of us in it need a reminder. Today my town hit 99degrees; New York City hit somewhere around 104, which was not a record; but Newark, NJ did beat their past record with 108. That's just my environs. Plenty of folks around the country have it just as bad and worse. And we're not finished.

So this is just a friendly little reminder to be safe. Extreme heat is not just uncomfortable; it can be dangerous.

First thing - stay hydrated! Drink early and often. Thirst is a lagging indicator; by the time you feel thirsty, your body is already in need of fluid. And don't drink sugary sodas. They don't quench your thirst and they are seriously not good for you. Drink water.

Try to stay in a cool place. If you have to go out in the heat, move a bit more slowly - and stay hydrated. Stay in the shade as much as possible.

Your best bet for exercise is the pool. If that isn't an option, work out at the gym (assuming it's air-conditioned). If you do exercise outdoors, do it early in the morning or in the evening when temperatures are at least somewhat cooler. Take it easy. Do less and do it more slowly. This is not a good time to get in your long run or do hill repeats!

And, of course, stay hydrated. Carry a hand held bottle or a hydration pack. Sip often. Don't wait until you're parched and then drink half the bottle.

Most of this is simple common sense. Taking it easy when it's like this is pretty easy - none of us really want to do a whole lot out in the heat. But sometimes we don't have a choice, and sometimes we can get obsessed with sticking with our exercise plan no matter what.

If you have to be out in the heat, pay attention to how you're feeling. Dizziness, severe headache, nausea, excessive sweating, rapid heartbeat, or cool clammy skin can be signs of serious heat conditions like heat exhaustion or stroke. These are serious conditions - pay attention! If you experience these, get out of the sun or into a cool place, drink water, lie down and elevate your legs slightly, sprinkle cool water on yourself. If the symptoms persist or get worse (like you run a high fever, suffer confusion, or faint), get medical help.

At some point the weather will break. Until then, take it a little easy. I, for example, am taking a day off from running. I may do a little strength work tonight after it cools off - but not a lot.

And drink water.

Julie

Honesty

2011-07-18T21:44:00.001-04:00

Improvement begins with an honest assessment of your current condition.

If you don't know where you are, how can you figure out how to get where you want? - today's Life-Cise Tip.

That idea applies to many things. It certainly applies to how I chose to face my cancer, and it applies to just about any goal - including fitness.

I've written before about how I don't believe in relying on positive thinking. I don't believe that "having a good attitude" will keep me alive. I chose to make a completely honest assessment of my situation, no matter how scary. It was only in that way that I could make the best choices about my treatment.

I'm not the only one to think and write about this. A couple of recent posts on the subject come from my friend Nancy, from Nancy's Point; and Beth, from Calling the Shots. Beth writes about the possible perils of relying on attitude. Both are well worth reading.

We know that people are well-meaning when they encourage us to keep a good attitude. There may be emotional benefits to keeping a good attitude, but thinking positively does not save our lives. Facing our disease head on, honestly; and making a good plan with our doctors and families just might, though.

This same level of honesty is also the best way to make real progress in fitness, whatever your goal. It's the same principal: you have to know your current situation in order to make a reasonable, well-thought-out plan. That will give you the best chance for real success.

Over the years, I've heard people say I'm being negative or too hard on myself when I make an assessment of my current strengths and weaknesses. I disagree. Whether it's learning a piece of music or the skills to climb a mountain, I must know what I need to improve if I want to progress.

I'm not talking about beating myself up or belittling my skills. I'm talking about honesty. If I think that in certain music, my rhythm could be better, that takes nothing away from my good intonation or beautiful sound. But if I don't recognize that, how will I know to work on rhythm and improve? If I say I'm not a fast runner, that takes nothing away from the tremendous endurance I have to run a 50-mile race. But if I don't recognize that I could be faster, how will I improve?

And once I know what I want to improve, I can figure out the best way to do it.

What do you want to improve? Be specific. Your overall health? What specifically? - Your energy levels (especially if you're in treatment or recently finished)? Do you want to lose a few pounds? Or a lot? Do you want to be strong enough to play basketball with your son? Do you want to run a marathon?

With regard to that goal, where are you right now? What needs improvement?....honestly.

You've made the first step toward that goal. Now you can make the best plan to get there.

Julie

Summertime Reminders

2011-07-03T13:07:00.002-04:00

For all of my Northern Hemisphere friends, it's time for a quick summer reminder. (for my readers from the lower reaches of the planet, keep these things in mind a few months from now.)

Biggest tip for warm weather activities: Stay Hydrated! This is so important, it bears frequent repeating. Good hydration is important all the time, but in summer heat and sun we need to be even more aware than usual. Don't wait until you feel parched. Thirst is often a lagging indicator of our bodies' need for water. When you're active outdoors, drink early and often.

Next: Wear Sunscreen or Cover Up! A bit of sunshine is good. It can elevate our mood (remember the doldrums of dark, dreary winter?). And we need sun to boost our vitamin D levels, low levels of which are now being linked to a number of diseases. But too much sun is not good... too much sun is a recipe for skin cancer. Wear sunscreen or a hat. Remember the ladies who always wore big hats? They were on to something. But sometimes, staying in the shade or covering up is not practical. Wear sunscreen. Take special care to put it on sensitive areas that are easy to forget about, like ears, neck, or bottom of your chin (especially if you're out on the water where sun rays reflect up). And be particularly careful of any areas which have been radiated!

Keep an eye out for signs of edema. Many people have more trouble with swelling when it's hot and humid. Staying hydrated can help with this. You may find you have no more trouble during hot weather than any other time, but pay attention so you know how your body reacts. - I know that when I hike in hot/humid weather, I tend to puff up quite a bit in my hands and arms. I've always done this, but now it can be harder for my body to process the fluid. I usually wear my compression sleeve and glove when hiking now. It may not be the most comfortable thing I've ever worn hiking, but from experience, I've learned it's better to be cautious. And it really isn't that uncomfortable compared to a swollen hand.

And finally, a reminder that if you are getting out into nature, be respectful. Do nothing to harm the place you've gone to enjoy yourself. Carry out your litter! If you carry it in, carry it out! Do not leave toilet paper - bury it or carry it out in a plastic bag. You think that's gross, don't want to do it? Imagine just how gross it is for the rest of us when we come across your waste. Imagine how you would feel if you walked into someone's home and saw piles of human waste in the corner. (sorry to be so blunt, but really, it's nasty and I'm so tired of walking through someone else's latrine.) If the trail is muddy, walk through it - that's what boots are for. If you and every other person walks around, you end up eroding the surrounding terrain, creating an ever-widening mud pool and destroying more plants. And never harass the flora and fauna. Just let them be. Don't pick every pretty flower. Don't rip limbs off of trees to build a fire. Don't poke or try to kill animals and reptiles. Just go around them; let them be. Do get out and enjoy nature, just do it respectfully.

Julie

Snap, Back to Reality

2011-06-30T14:21:00.000-04:00

I've been mulling this post over for a couple of weeks now, unsure whether or what to write. Most of you know that I'm celebrating 10 years of survivorhood this year. And most of you know I chose to celebrate it with a really big run: the North Face 50 Mile Endurance Race at Bear Mountain.

I was full of gratitude for still being here and healthy 10 years after my diagnosis. I was relishing the idea of starting into a new decade, when I had so often been unable to believe in the likelihood reaching the end of this one. And I was looking forward to cancer, while never really being gone from my life, becoming less immediately present.

I knew that although 10 years is pretty monumental, given where I started, it was not the end of my risk. I know that. I've read all the information and paid too close attention to my doctors to make the mistake of thinking it's all behind me. The risk is still there. It gets smaller with each passing year, but I still live with risk - we all do.

But I was celebrating.

Then I had my annual oncologist visit. And the celebration stopped. While I was regaling him with tales of my triumphal run, he noticed something in my remaining breast. A change. Suddenly, I realized with horror that I had gotten rather lax about my self-exams. It had been several months since I had done a thorough exam. He was right - not really a lump, but definitely a significant change.

On to my surgeon, mammo, ultra-sound, and needle biopsy. This all took place over a week and a half because I was visiting my family for my niece's graduation. As unsettling as all this was, I knew that there was no need to interrupt my short travel plans. If this was something, one week wouldn't make a difference. But it did make for a troubling week.

All came back fine - benign - yea! - but....

Snap, back to reality!

Back to more checks, more frequent doc visits, more anxiety, more life with cancer.

I am not a superstitious person, but I admit to having plenty of thoughts of: Did I somehow jinx this? Here I was celebrating 10 years, was that like tempting the gods? Did I start to take my good health for granted?

It's shocking how easily and quickly we can all fall into wondering if this is all somehow our fault. We know it's not. We know there are certain behaviors that can increase or decrease our risk of cancer, but cause and effect is never so direct or absolute. All smokers are not guaranteed of getting lung cancer, and some people who never smoked do get it.

No, I didn't cause my cancer, and no, I didn't cause this little scare. But what's it all mean?

I'm fine and still terribly grateful for my good health. But this was like a punch in the stomach after so much time. I know that I'm still at risk, but it's been quite a while since a scare; my doc visits had begun to feel almost routine (weird to say a visit to the oncologist can ever feel routine).

I didn't write about this until now for several reasons. One is my family. My parents read this blog regularly and I hate to upset them. Of course I would tell them if something were wrong, but I see no need to upset them unnecessarily. One of the most painful phone calls I made when I was diagnosed was to my parents. I don't want to relive any portion of that on either side simply for tests - they're only tests.

Another is my own struggle to balance my joy at a big milestone with the depressing fact that I'm still a cancer survivor. And that means that I will always be at risk for recurrence or new cancers. I will always face a battery of tests whenever my very vigilant doctors notice something - this is good, though - I'm still here in large part because my doctors have been vigilant. I will always be a cancer survivor, with all that that entails.

And what's it all mean? I want some sort of meaning. I want a reason for plummeting from a joyful, triumphant celebration to the pits of anxiety, when all the memories of the times when tests ("it's probably nothing") did not turn out well come rushing back, fresh like it was yesterday. When hearing one sentence can suck the air from my lungs.

Does this mean my celebration was for naught? Does it mean it doesn't count?

No, I don't think so. Reaching 10 years is monumental - no matter what happens next. None of us know what will happen next. We're all at risk. Life is a risk. As survivors, we know that better than many folks. We know it in a very immediate, in your face kind of way. And maybe that's not a terrible thing.

Maybe this was just a terrible and wonderful reminder.

Terrible because it's a reminder that cancer will never be far from my life. Terrible because of the memories, the anxiety, the fear.

But wonderful because it reminds me of just how precious every one of the last 10 years has been, every moment going forward - however long that is. Every celebration, every step - precious. After all, isn't that the reason we so desperately want to survive? Isn't that the whole point?

Julie

Surprise Yourself

2011-06-27T12:22:00.000-04:00

I so enjoyed your comments from my last post: Yes, Gillian, just a little meshugganah (but hopefully in a good way). Everyone's advice was good; it's what I would have said to someone else. Don't push too hard. Maybe start with an easier race....

But I admit to having trouble following advice sometimes. It probably would have been smart to have waited, but the race was there.

I ran yesterday. Ten miles of hills. And it was fun. I felt good. The achiness of earlier in the week was gone. I had slept a lot during the week in the hopes of fighting back against this Lyme disease. And that seemed to have worked.

I finished strong - sprinted the end - because I could. I finished in 1:35, an average pace of 9:35 min. per mile. That's not bad for me.

Post race, I swam in the cold waters of Lake George - a perfect post-race activity (cold baths help reduce inflammation in tired, stressed muscles). And after that, my friend and I had a lovely lunch at the Sagamore, looking up towards the narrows of Lake George (one of the most beautiful lakes I've seen).

We can surprise ourselves. We all struggle with this and that, but sometimes, if we try, we can do more than we thought possible.

Live life with no limits. Surprise yourself today.

Julie

The Balancing Act

2011-06-24T20:43:00.000-04:00

I'm struggling with balance. How about you?

I'm still feeling the effects of Lyme disease. I get tired more quickly than usual. Ten or 11 hours of sleep a night seems to be what I need. I get tired during the day. And when I get tired I get really achy and headachy.

But I love to run and swim and hike. And I'm currently up at Saratoga Springs to play Opera Saratoga. I love being up here. I get to see old friends, and I'm that much closer to the North Country! I'm just a half hour from Lake George and the lower end of my beloved Adirondacks. I usually spend every moment possible up North running around in the woods when I'm here for the opera.

Argh! How to balance my need for rest with my need for outdoor activity? I've written before about the importance of respecting our bodies and what they are going through when we're in treatment or fighting some other disease. No, this is not cancer, but it's not nothing either!

My solution is to cut back on some of the usual socializing, take little naps when I can, but still try to get out for a short run. And I just signed up for the Adirondack Distance Run on Sunday, a 10-mile run through rolling hills along the shore of Lake George.

I realize a 10-mile race might be pushing it. But I'm trying to balance the importance of rest with the need to do things I love. I need to do something that feels like normal. I need to feel excited.

I don't plan on doing anything stupid. If I need to stop, I will. I have no problem with stopping or walking if it's necessary. But the idea of running the race, even of getting up really early to do it, makes me happy. Making the attempt makes me happy.

So, I'll race on Sunday. I'll get plenty of rest before that. I'll walk or stop if I need to. But I'll race on Sunday - and feel very happy.

How do you balance the need for rest with the need for activity and goals?

Julie

Happy Father's Day!

2011-06-19T09:08:00.000-04:00

I learned to rock climb because of my father. My dad and I decided to take a Father/Daughter vacation. I had to be out West for something, and decided to take a little extra time so we could do some sort of outdoor, mountainy kind of thing. We talked about the possibilities: canoe trip, backpacking, white water rafting.... And then I mentioned an article I had just read in the New York Times about learning to climb in the Tetons. I wasn't at all interested in that, in fact, it terrified me. I only mentioned it to pad the list of options, sure he would never pick that. Of course, that was the thing that interested him most.

After I put my fears aside, the trip was a great success. Although at first I found rock climbing difficult and scary, at some point on the second day something clicked and I began to fall in love with climbing. Dad was the total hit, though. Everyone loved that father and daughter were off on an adventure together. He was the oldest person learning to climb that summer. A group of brothers were completely jealous - their father had declined the trip because he thought he was too old to learn to climb. My dad was unstoppable. He had never tried climbing before, but just motored his way up every climb. Point him to a rock face and he would find some way up it.

And I got to see my dad in a new light. It was one of the first times we had really gotten out of our father-daughter roles. We hung out with people we just met, told jokes, drank beer, swapped stories with other climbers and hikers. I got to see him as the charming, adventurous, goofy, fun, nice guy that he is. Thanks, Dad. May you have many more adventures!

Happy Father's Day to all!

Julie

(All my pictures from that trip are buried deep in the bowels of my basement right now while we continue our house repairs. Maybe by next Father's Day the work will all be done and I can share some of those pics.)

Enthusiasm - Don't Curb It

2011-06-18T09:10:00.000-04:00

What are you enthused about? Surely there is one thing today that gets you excited.

Enthusiasm gets a bad rap sometimes. Or is that just because I live in NY, where we've all seen and done it all, so why get excited? We're told to calm down, be measured, take a deep breath - take it all in stride.

But isn't life more fun if you're excited about something? Alright, I know, life is plenty hard - it's unfair, it's filled with disappointments, it's painful. In spite of all that, isn't life more fun if you're excited about something?

Try to find at least one thing each day that excites you. It can be silly and small, or a major event. The boost can help you get through the less pleasant aspects of your day. And really great if what excites you is something that gets you moving, that's good for you.

After I was run down by a taxi years ago (back before I had cancer), every day was painful. I had a spinal cord injury and a lot of soft tissue damage. But we were heading into Spring and the birds were migrating. I got excited about moving out onto the deck to see the warblers returning. And later, I made my daily walks down my long driveway. Walking was still difficult, but picking fresh raspberries for my breakfast made the struggle worthwhile. It was a struggle, but the steady, daily work I did to keep moving helped me to a full recovery - far better than many of my doctors expected. Enthusiasm helped keep me going: enthusiasm for what I might see if I endured the pain, or for what I could find (or eat).

I carried those same ideas forward into my life with cancer. Cancer - all aspects of it - is difficult. It's exhausting, it's painful, it's damn scary! But I tried to find and focus on things that would excite me: nature, walking, art, music. A lot of those happy things turned out to be things that got me moving. And by allowing myself to get excited by even very small physical things, I stayed connected to my body in a positive way.

So, what are you enthused about today? I just bought a new pair of trail running shoes (I put a whole lot of miles on my old ones!). I'm trying out a new shoe. Today, I am really enthusiastic about my new shoes. I can't wait to take them out for a spin on the trail today.

Staying calm is all well and good, but get enthused about something. Remember as a kid getting excited about something new, a chance to play with friends, or just going outside to see what you could find? Allow yourself just a little of that spirit now. What excites you now?

Julie

Lessons from My Parents - Mom

2011-06-15T13:28:00.000-04:00

Doing it right is more important than doing a lot. That's today's Life-Cise Daily Tip. (you can click this link to sign up for the Daily Tip & Newsletter.)

My mom is a perfect example of this. When I see her, we usually go over her current exercise routine. I check her form and make suggestions and adjustments. I've written about her before; she's the pushup queen!

One of the reasons I like to use my mom as an example is that she's always stayed focused on good form as she progresses. At first, she may not be able to do many reps of a particular exercise, or may only be able to do a modified form, but she does what she can in perfect form. In that way, she carefully strengthens the muscles and is able to slowly and safely progress.

When I first assessed her, she couldn't push herself up off the floor once. Slowly, making incremental progress, she built up her upper body and core strength until she could do perfect pushups. Along the way, with every modification, she focused on perfect form rather than number of reps.

This trip, I added some good stabilizing exercises to help with balance. I want to make sure she feels steady on her feet! That's in addition to the excellent core work she's already doing. Stability is equally about lower body and core strength. She demonstrated a perfect bridge with stability ball. Here, she shows a solid, stable torso - completely steady and plank-like. She's totally awesome!

It's so easy to get caught up in trying to do more. We see others doing more reps or more sets, running faster or farther. Whether out of competitiveness with them, or with ourselves (I did 5 more than last week!), we can get obsessed with numbers. I know I do sometimes. Do you?

But for real, long-term improvements, we're better off taking a lesson from my mom: doing it right is better than doing a lot!

Julie

Rest - Sometimes It's What You Need

2011-06-14T19:44:00.000-04:00

We all know that rest is an integral part of health. It's as important as proper nutrition and exercise. But, as with all things, balance is important.

Those of you who read this blog regularly know that I'm struggling with Lyme disease right now. I'm about halfway through my long course of antibiotics, and I am feeling much better. But I'm also getting frustrated at not being able to do all the things I want - like rock climb and run, and start training for my next race....

I have started running a little, but a couple experiences in the last week remind me of just how vital rest is, and of finding that balance of activity and rest. Last week I finally went back to my very early morning speed workout with my coach. I tried to take it easy - as much as possible in that very intense workout. I sat out on some of the repeats. It felt great to be there running again, but I did push too hard and I paid the price. My Lyme-y headache came back for the day, and I was completely exhausted. I wasn't capable of doing anything productive the rest of the day.

So clearly, that was a little too intense for me at this stage.

Several days of active rest followed, and I was ready to run again. Sunday I needed to run some errands, so I ran them. It was about 8.5 miles to the library, bank, pharmacy and back home. I felt good for about 6 miles. Then, suddenly I felt completely spent. I had to walk much of the last 2 miles.

The experience reminded me of how I felt recovering from treatment. I remember feeling pretty good - thinking I was pretty much back to normal. I'd go out for a longer than usual ski or swim or hike, and feel great - until I didn't. What was so difficult was that I felt like I had no backup. Normally, I'd get tired, get more tired, more tired - but there was always more reserve. After treatment, I was still exercising, but didn't have that reserve as I got tired. I'd go from feeling fine to nothing left.

This is all just a way of saying, don't underestimate what your body is going through. Whether it's cancer treatment, serious injury, or some other disease, our bodies are handling a lot. If we want them to recover and regain strength, we have to allow them adequate rest.

But balance is important (remember that from the first paragraph?). Too much rest and our muscles continue to weaken. We end up feeling much worse and able to do much less. But push too hard, and we can exhaust ourselves and suffer setbacks.

So how to find that balance? There's a lot of trial and error, but there are some guidelines. Don't be afraid to push yourself a little. You want to feel like you're doing something. Muscles get stronger by being stressed. They respond to the stress by building themselves up. So, you have to do enough activity so you're making your body work. Not enough that you hurt yourself, but you should feel like you're doing something.

Then, equally important to the exercise, is rest. You have to rest in order for your body to build up more strength. But rest doesn't mean lying around on the couch all day. The best kind of rest is active rest. Move a little, nothing stressful - maybe go for a little walk, an easy bike ride, garden, or clean. You will recover faster and feel better sooner with lightly active recovery than total rest.

This really is as much a reminder to me as it is for you. Clearly, sometimes I'm better at giving good advice than I am at following what I already know! But the good news is that after a couple of workouts that were a bit too intense for me right now, and plenty of rest to recover, I do feel better. I went back to my early morning speed workout this morning. I did feel better and stronger. But I was also smarter about slowing up or taking a lap or 2 off when I needed (I can learn from my mistakes). It was still intense - always is - but I left feeling good, not exhausted.

I'm surprised at how hard this Lyme disease has hit me, but I know the principals that I learned during cancer treatment and recovering from treatment will help me get through this as well. We all have to respect our bodies, and respect what our bodies are going through. Part of respecting that is doing what we can to help our bodies recover. And that means rest when we need it, staying active, and finding that all important balance between pushing ourselves and taking it easy.

Julie

Getting What You Need

2011-06-08T10:30:00.001-04:00

To borrow from Mick Jagger: You can't always get what you want, but if you try sometimes you might find you get what you need.

What sort of exerciser are you? Do you have a set routine? If you don't get that done, do you feel like you haven't worked out? Do you think exercise only happens at the gym or on a treadmill? What happens on busy days, or long travel day?

Last year, I posted a question on LinkedIn. I asked why people don't exercise regularly, given what we know about the benefits. I got a lot of interesting, insightful answers. I also got quite a few angry responses about how they are simply too busy (I couldn't possibly understand that....) to go to the gym every day - they've got important things to do (as though their health isn't important)!

All too often people have a set and surprisingly rigid idea of what exercise is. They go to the gym for an hour, or watch the morning news while walking on the treadmill. These are great things, but what happens if it's not possible? Should we just accept the idea we can't exercise that day, re-double our efforts tomorrow?

I was thinking about this during the last several days. Besides not getting my usual workouts because I've been sick with Lyme disease, I've had several long days with lots of things scheduled. And I had a couple of long travel days to go see my eldest niece graduate (congrats Megan, so proud of you!!).

It would be so easy to write off those days for exercise! I don't have time.

Instead, I accepted I wouldn't get an ideal workout, but got what I could. On Tuesday, I found myself with a half hour between appointments. Instead of going to Starbucks for coffee or looking at shoes I didn't need, I headed into Central Park for a walk. Between that and walking to and from my car, I logged in around 2 miles.

Between long lines, the TSA, layovers, and delayed flights, it's pretty much guaranteed that if you have to fly somewhere, you're going to have a long day with a lot of down time. It's easy to mindlessly endure the lines and just slump down in a chair once at the gate. It's easy to find the whole experience exhausting.

I know how this is; I had several very busy years touring as a musician, sometimes spending as much as a third of my year on the road. I found that if I did whatever I could to move a little bit, I generally felt better. So, for this last trip, I had a layover in Charlotte in which I had to get from one end of the airport to the terminal at the complete other end. That's fine - I walked. And no, I didn't use the moving sidewalks. I walked the whole way; I took the stairs.

That's the obvious one - walk (and not just to the Cinnabon). A few other ideas: think about how you're standing while you're going through the security line. Are you standing tall, with your core engaged? Or are you slouching with your belly hanging out? When you're taking a bus or train, try standing even if there are seats. Keeping yourself steady as you bump along will put your core muscles and legs to work. OK, do this only if you have pretty good balance and have a rail to hold on to.

No, none of this is the same as running 10 miles, but it's not bad for a day in which there was no time for exercise.

And remember, the health benefits from exercise are cumulative. The recommendations from the American College of Sports Medicine, the American Heart Association, the American Cancer Society, and the US Dept. of Health and Human Services, are to get 30 minutes of moderate exercise most days per week. But they don't say you have to do it all at once. You can split it up into smaller segments. It's the total activity for the day that's important.

So, you have a busy day? With some creative thinking, you still might just get what you need.

Julie

Felled By Something So Small

2011-05-30T11:42:00.000-04:00

I apologize. I have not been so good at posting here or updating the Life-Cise News page lately. It's not like there hasn't been any news about cancer or fitness to post, or that I have any lack of ideas for posts. But after feeling so happy and grateful (and strong) to have finished my race, I have been brought low by a tiny tick.

Yup, I have Lyme disease. Or, at this point, probable Lyme. The test for Lyme has to be done in a month; they have to wait for enough antibodies to build up for the test to be accurate. So until then, I'm being treated for Lyme.

I don't really care what it is officially. I just care that I get better. And so far the antibiotics are helping. The large red spot on my leg is mostly gone. My fever is gone. The joint pain and headaches are getting better. And I'm slowly beginning to have a little more energy.

So, I haven't disappeared, and I still have plenty to say about fitness and cancer. I'm just a bit slower than usual right now.

Julie

Lessons from My Parents - Dad

2011-05-22T11:15:00.000-04:00

I spent most of last week visiting my parents; it was a lovely visit. My dad recently had a heart attack. He's doing extremely well, but I was anxious to go and see for myself. As a daughter, I wanted to really see how he's doing, how he's moving, how he's reacting. As a fitness trainer, I wanted to find out more about what he's doing in cardiac rehab and what his limitations might be in the future.

He started rehab shortly after getting out of the hospital. This is important since numerous studies have shown that cardiac patients do better with rehab. The therapists started him off slowly, and have been making regular, incremental increases in his exercise program. When he's not in therapy, he's walking and exercising at home - within prescribed limits.

This last point is key to improvement - exercising on your own, outside of PT. Too many people rely solely on PT, whether it's cardiac rehab or injury-related. Your physical therapist can only do so much, a couple times a week. You must continue the work the other days. It's your body; it's your responsibility. And it's you who will suffer the consequences if you are not diligent.

I also got to meet my dad's cardiologist. I was quite pleased with what I saw - and not just because he saved my dad's life (although that is an excellent quality in a doctor!). I was impressed with how carefully he listened to my father's questions. He listened carefully, considered, answered, and then explained why he answered the way he did. He didn't just have pat answers for routine questions. It didn't matter if some of the questions were quite unusual or even outrageous for a cardiac patient (my dad asked about playing tennis next week with his granddaughters, and whether he could go repelling!). The doctor took all the questions seriously and answered seriously. He gave my father some cautions, and explained why. He didn't dismiss the queries or simply say yes or no. He explained. Like I said, I was quite pleased.

Dad has basically been given a green light to do what he wants - within reason. He's made great progress, but it's been a gradual, step-wise process. We expect he'll continue to make great progress, but only if it's a gradual, step-wise process. Even if he's frustrated sometimes, gradual progress is best for long-term health. So he can play a little tennis, as long as he takes it easy and doesn't play in the midday heat. Repelling is not off the table either, as long as he builds up to it gradually - he can't go out next week and climb a 30ft. tower to repel off.

These are the same guidelines we all should follow. They are the same guidelines I stress with all my Life-Cise clients. We can all do just about anything. We just have to make a safe and reasonable plan, with gradual, step-wise increases. The plan can always be modified as we go along, but it must always be gradual. It's not worth it to make a big leap in order to do one thing if it will cause us injury or set us back - no matter how important that one thing is to us.

We're in this for the long haul, right? We want to be healthy and capable for a lifetime, right? Sometimes that involves pushing ourselves, and sometimes that requires patience. Both are equally important.

Julie

Run, Julie, Run - Goodbye Cancer Girl, Hello Ultra Girl

2011-05-14T14:15:00.000-04:00

When I was diagnosed with breast cancer 10 years ago, it was hard for me to think too much about reaching 2011. The enormity of long-term survival seemed just too massive to grasp - so far beyond my reach that I couldn't conceive how I would do it.

At the time, I never used the term "survivor". I wasn't really sure what the term meant, but was pretty sure it wasn't me. I was just a girl who happened to have cancer. I was much more likely to think of myself as Cancer Girl than Survivor - Cancer Girl, getting on with her life as best she could.

Since the hugeness of my challenge could leave me feeling helpless, instead I focused on manageable steps. "Survival" was too amorphous. I needed concrete action. With my doctors, I made a plan. I kept my eyes focused on the few steps right in front of me: tomorrow shop for post-chemo food, Tuesday chemo, Wednesday rest, next week scans, January radiation.... I desperately wanted to survive, but these steps were small enough that I could wrap my head around them. I understood how to do each of these things and knew each one was within my power.

Amazingly the years continued to pass, but I remained Cancer Girl in my mind. When you have a high risk of recurrence it's hard to ever feel like you are past it.

And then, suddenly, I reached 10 years - CELEBRATE!! I still am not really sure how I got here, but here is where I am. While I spent 10 years concentrating on the next step, time was passing and I was getting ever closer to that amorphous, elusive goal - I was surviving. And when I look back on the last 10 years, I am overwhelmed by the herculean effort to get here.

So when I thought of doing something big to mark this milestone, I wanted it to be something of equivalent (but less potentially lethal) magnitude. Going from a complete recreational, occasional runner to running the North Face Bear Mountain 50-Mile Endurance Challenge - one of the harder 50-mile races in the East - in less than a year seemed like just the perfect kind of crazy, herculean task.

I spent the last 8 months ticking off steps and mileposts, doing my best to stay focused on the next step. And suddenly, it was race day.

We arrived early to get ready for the 5am start. We checked in, ate a little, I had to pee, drank some more, peed again, oh...and peed yet again. We chatted with strangers - these other crazies out in the wee hours of the morning to run 50 miles through the woods. Then it was time to line up, headlamps on. I was nervous and excited just to be there on the starting line...and we were off.

It was slow going at first. There were around 200 people trying to navigate the rocky trail, illuminated only by our headlamps. Once we reached somewhat more level ground, I noticed that the sky was lightening as the sun began it's ascent across the Hudson river. Slowly, blue gave way to golden. I turned off my headlamp and tried to take in as much of the beautiful early morning views as I could while keeping an eye on the trail.

At that point, I didn't care at all about the outcome. I was here! This was my goal, and I was here - I was running. And then I realized I was running well. My pace was faster than I expected and I was feeling great...so keep going, Julie.

I ran when I could (which turned out to be most of the time), walked when I needed to, and even crawled on all fours on a few of the steepest sections. At some point during the really hard, technical section between mile 10 and 20, I began to think that just maybe I could make the first hard cutoff at mile 20. (There were 2 hard cutoffs: at 20 & 34 miles. If you didn't make those aid stations by a certain time, you were done with the race.) ....Wow, how cool would that be if I made the first cutoff?! So I ran a little faster.

There were some brutal sections. I took a nose dive, but no serious damage was done. My nose just kissed the rocks. Others were not so lucky. At the aid stations I saw runners being taped up or icing injuries while waiting for transports back to the medical tent at the finish. Along the trail I passed runners bruised and bloodied, but struggling onward.

A young guy in a red t-shirt appeared before me, carrying water up the trail to runners who might need it (there were a lot of open, rocky areas in full sun in that section). He said the cutoff was a half mile ahead and there was 15 minutes until cutoff. I made the first cutoff....how cool!

It wasn't until I had made the first cutoff that I began to think about the second cutoff. The next section was a mix of easier trails and wildly steep hills. Shortly after leaving the next aid station my GPS watch died. I knew it would happen; it has only about 8 hours of battery life. What I didn't expect was how much I would miss it once it was gone. I was running totally blind in terms of my pace and distance. And with each step, my desire to make the next cutoff grew. I definitely struggled in that section. There was a long uphill section on the road in full sun. There were some slippery, muddy sections. I had the company of other runners for some of it, but for long sections I was alone. In some ways, this may have been the hardest part of the race for me. I was unsure of my pace, and was filled with doubts about how well I could continue, but I knew I wanted to make the second cutoff. Finally, I could hear voices. I had made it in time.

I had fought hard for that cutoff! But as I left the aid station, I was excited for what came next. It was all mysterious to me - I had never run more than 36 miles. Each step was a new record for me, totally new territory for my body.

And then an amazing thing happened. I started feeling stronger. I started speeding up. Yes, this section of trail was easier, but I was picking up my pace, running harder, and still feeling good. I started passing people. Heading into the aid station at mile 40, I felt great!

At that point, I knew I could finish the race - all 50 miles. It would be tight as far as making the final cutoff of 14 hours, but I would finish. As I left the aid station and headed back into the woods, I started to cry. Suddenly, I wanted the finish so badly! I wanted an official finish time!

I had been very conscious during the race of staying hydrated and fueled - not an easy task on a 50-mile run. It takes a lot of work because much of the time, your body doesn't really feel like eating or drinking. But it's super important to stay on top of it because it's so hard to make up a deficit. In the mid-section of the race, the aid stations were about 6-7 miles apart, and much of the time we were running in the mid-day sun. I was feeling pretty parched, but realized I had been fairly successful at rehydrating when I had to pee around mile 43. And I would just like to point out what an advantage men have at this - squatting to pee after running 43 miles is not easy!

The second-to-last aid station was right near my house, at the top of my street, just 5.3 miles from the finish. My brother told me later that when he saw my split posted from that station, he quickly started calculating whether I could make it within the cutoff. He realized it would be agonizingly close. As did I. I left the aid station knowing that I had to run the next section, which included what might be the toughest climb of the course, faster than I had ever done it. And I had no watch to monitor my progress. I just ran. I ran as fast as I could. I walked the steep hills. I pushed myself up toward Timp Pass. And I pushed myself down the rocky stream bed on the other side, stumbling, but not falling.

I was approaching the final aid station. Some of the volunteers had spread out down the trail to cheer on the final runners. A woman, who I imagine might have been a high school basketball coach, looked at her watch and started yelling at me to run faster. "You can make it but you have to run! It's close, but you can do it! Run! Faster! Faster! Run to those orange cones. Look at those cones, don't take your eyes off those cones. Now run! Faster - run!" And I did what she said. I ran as fast as I could.

At the aid station someone refilled my water bottle. I didn't eat, I just wanted to run. I asked time - I had a little less than 45 minutes and 2.8 miles. I just had to run 15 minute miles. That's perfectly doable, but this was at the end of 50 miles - could I run 15 minute miles now?

I was off on the final leg of the race. I ran, and I ran fast. I ran as fast as I could move. I suddenly realized how useful those early morning speed drills had been. Here I was at the end of 50 miles and my body recognized what this was - time to sprint! I ran almost all of the hills in that final section. There were a few I had to walk. But that just made me run that much faster once I crested the top. I kept pushing myself to go faster. I just thought how stupid it would be to miss the cutoff by half a minute because I ran a comfortable pace.

I wanted this now! When I started, I didn't really care about the outcome. I just wanted to try, to make the attempt, to have an adventure. And it was a glorious adventure - all of it - the training, the people I met, the start, the race. Throughout most of the day, I had felt such joy. I was happy!

But now, I wanted to finish in less than 14 hours. I wanted it. With every step, I could feel the finish. I pushed myself harder than I ever imagined possible. I wanted to leave nothing in reserve. If I had to crawl across the finish line, fine - I would know that I tried with everything I had.

As hard as I was pushing, I also marveled at my body. I was amazed that I could run this fast at the end of this race....Wow - these are my legs and they are strong! How wild that I have the heart, lungs, and legs to run this hard! My body is amazing!

And then the tunnel where I had come through almost 14 hours before, and the parking lot, and the finish!

I wanted to take a picture or video of the finish as I ran across, but I couldn't spare the energy to get out my phone. All I cared about was crossing the line - I still didn't know whether I had made it in time. I had, with time to spare. My time was 13 hours, 47 minutes. My pace for those last 3 miles was about 11:30 mins. per mile. That's faster than I have ever run any trails. That's faster than I thought I was capable of running trails. And that was at the end of 50 miles.

At this point, I would like to profusely thank all the organizers and volunteers - there was a whole army of them to make this event happen - you were all amazing!

And I want to thank my coach, Neil Cook at Asphalt Green. Neil pushed me, taught me, encouraged me, always in the spirit of fun. Through vomit-inducing speed drills and long runs of distances I was sure I could never do, Neil got me ready to run. And he always did it with a sense of joy. Thank you, Neil.

Unlike shorter races, where athletes' struggles and joys play out in milliseconds, often in front of family, friends, and cheering crowds, ultra runners' struggles take place over the course of hours, mostly alone. That's why most of the other runners will freely offer encouragement when they come across a runner going through a rough moment - they all know what it's like - they've all experienced it. They know the pain, the fear, the tears, the despair. They all also know the joy. And they know what it's like to face all fo that out there all alone. We recognize that in each other, not so unlike cancer survivors. We know we can't take away the struggle for others, and we know that we all experience surviving in our own way, but we recognize and understand the struggle. And we wish for some moments of joy in the mix.

I marvel at surviving and being healthy for 10 years, and I marvel at running 50 miles. I'm still not really sure how either happened. With both, I just concentrated on what was right in front of me - the next step. And suddenly there it was - the finish line. Except that the finish line isn't the end of it; it's just the start of the next thing. But that's kind of the point, isn't it? So I eagerly look forward to the next 10 years and the next race....you know I already have some ideas in mind.

Julie

Thanks & Happy Mother's Day

2011-05-08T15:20:00.000-04:00

Thank you to all of you who have been following my progress as I prepared for the North Face Endurance Challenge 50-Mile race at Bear Mountain! I swear at times yesterday I could fell you all cheering me on. I'll write more about the experience tomorrow, but for now, yes I did it! Smiling all the way (well, much of the way), celebrating life every step.

And I also want to say Happy Mother's Day to all the mothers out there, especially mine. I know my mom will probably hate that I put up this picture, with her all bundled up. But I love this photo. It was taken last summer when we were all in Michigan. We were on the beach for the sunset and it was quite breezy and cold. But it was a beautiful evening and lovely sunset, and I so enjoyed being able to share it with my parents.

Julie

Run, Julie, Run - Night Before

2011-05-06T21:46:00.000-04:00

If you can't fly, run. If you can't run then walk. If you can't walk then crawl. But whatever you do, keep moving forward. ~ Dr. Martin Luther King, jr.

The course is all marked. My clothes are laid out, my drop bags (that I can leave along the course with spare socks, dry shirt, rain gear, etc.) are packed. Time to go to bed and dream of running - fast & far!

I'll be wearing #77. If you're interested, you can get updates on my progress on my Facebook page. That's my personal page. I haven't been able to load the app to the Life-Cise FB page. I'll try again, but there seems to be some problem. My brother will update the Life-Cise FB page, though.

Thanks for all the good wishes - so hugely appreciated!

Julie

Run, Julie, Run - A little inspiration

2011-05-06T15:45:00.000-04:00

A little inspiration for my pre-race nerves. From FancyBoy Productions - check out his channel on youtube: lots of inspiration there, whatever you're trying to do.

Julie

Run, Julie, Run - Challenge Accepted, Again

2011-05-04T11:51:00.001-04:00

Last Summer into Fall, I quietly extended a challenge to myself. I wanted to challenge myself like never before to celebrate 10 years of survivorship. I settled on the North Face 50 Mile Endurance Challenge at Bear Mountain.

I told very few people because it was just too crazy, even for me. At that point I was a totally casual and fairly new runner. I had run exactly 2 races: both 5Ks (which are very different than 50 miles). But I started planning; I started training; I started racing. I hired a coach. And I ran....

But from the beginning this was less about the results and more about the trying. This was a ridiculous, incredibly aggressive goal that I set for myself. And big goals come with equally big risks. I knew how unlikely this goal was, but I wanted to try. I wanted to push myself to see what I could do.

I thought of it as a crazy adventure who's end was totally unknown. I ran a couple of trail half marathons. Worked my way up to a cold winter marathon-turned-50K. I've run in all kinds of weather. Run into bears and snakes, and dodged bad drivers (of whom there are many!). I've even gotten up insanely early to do vomit-inducing speed drills with my coach. In short, I've had a blast! I've discovered that I really love long-distance trail running. I've discovered whole new levels of fitness. I have strong legs and a stronger heart.

And then I got sick. I assumed I was out of the race. I've debated my options.

But I keep coming back to my initial challenge: to see what I could do; to have a grand adventure. So once again, I accept that challenge! Unless I suddenly take a turn for the worse, I plan to run on Saturday. And I plan to run in the 50 mile race. I have no idea how I'll do - I never really did. I'll run as far as I can, walk when I need to, and stop when I have to - that may be at 6 miles, 20, or 34. Who knows? It doesn't really matter.

What matters is that this is the race on which I set my sights. This is the race I wanted to try. And it's the trying that matters.

There will be other races to think more about results. For now, success is about the attempt. And so, in a way, I've already succeeded. I've trained hard, accomplished far more than I ever imagined. I've managed to remain injury-free. Yes, there have been little dings and aches & pains, but no major injuries. If I hadn't gotten the flu, I would have been quite well-prepared. That alone counts as a big success.

So, this Saturday, at 5:00am, I will be starting this race, my race. I'll be running with a sense of adventure, success, and celebration.

And I'll be running with the knowledge that the very biggest success is that I'm able to run this race at all.

Julie

Run, Julie, Run - Or Not....

2011-04-30T12:45:00.000-04:00

As we know all too well, life with cancer is about dreams and plans deferred - or ended. Instead of taking a long-planned vacation, we have disfiguring surgeries. Instead of going to college, we go to radiation. Instead of having a family, we have chemotherapy.

And most of the time we are pretty grateful to still be alive to do other things.

After 10 years of making lemonade with my lemons, I was ready for a challenge and a celebration. I know that running a 50 mile race is a peculiar way to celebrate 10 years. And I know that it's just a race. But it was my race, my celebration, and somehow, I felt I was due for everything to go right.

The viruses circulating around New York had other plans. I'm still sick. Whatever this is - a particularly nasty flu, or possibly whooping cough - I quite wrecked. My cough is slightly better; I no longer cough until I throw up. But I'm still exhausted. I was unable to work at all last week. I've been sleeping constantly. Ugh, I hate this!

So, running 50 miles next Saturday is out. I kept hoping that if I took good care of myself, this would all blow over quickly and I could still race. I'm weighing my options. I might be able to drop down and run a shorter race. Maybe I start and just see how far I can go. Or maybe I skip it and find another race later in the year.

These are all reasonable choices. I'll just wait to see how I feel in a few more days before I make up my mind.

But I really don't want to be reasonable. I want to run this race. I had a plan, a goal. I was working very hard for that goal. And for once, I just wanted things to go as planned.

Oh well. "You can't always get what you want..."

Julie

Run, Julie, Run - Oh No! - 100.5 and Rising!

2011-04-19T20:53:00.000-04:00

Damn! Yup, I'm sick. I'm sick, and I'm so angry! Except for my occasional freakouts, training has been going well. And now I'm sick.

I was fine, and then I wasn't. Last Friday I woke up with a cough. I spent a couple days just resting - didn't go on my scheduled 35-mile long run on Saturday. (OK, truth: I was going to try the run anyway. Emailed my coach. He said rest. I debated running anyway...thought better of it. My coach is a smart guy - listen to him, Julie. I'm very good about telling others to rest when they need to - not so much for myself.) I wasn't running a fever, but the cough was pretty nasty. Sunday I did an easy 2 miles. But now I'm going down hill fast - and not in a fun, running sort of way. Fever, cough getting worse (can it really get worse?); this is no fun. I'm headed to the doc tomorrow.

I haven't written off the race yet. I have visions of a super-speedy recovery, legs will be well-rested and I'll be better than ever. Or I'll run as far as I can.

So annoying! I've been taking good care of myself. I'm training hard, putting my body through a lot, so I'm good to it. I've been eating well and getting plenty of sleep (or trying to). But we all know that unexpected things happen....

So I'll go to the doc and see what happens.

And in the mean time, I'm getting acquainted with my obsessive side. I've noticed this at other times in my training, but it's really coming out now - apparently, I have a little bit of Type A in me.

This comes as a surprise to me; I think I'm quite easy-going. But it seems that I'm the only one who didn't know that I can be a bit of a control freak. When I mention this to friends, they laugh - out loud.

When ultra runners talk about how in distance running you really get to know what you're made of, I didn't think this was what they meant.

I've toughed it out on long runs that were a mess. I could have gone home and done the run a couple days later, but I had planned it for that day! - Who is that? That's not me, or at least not who I think I am. And all I can think about right now is how I should be running. - I have a plan, and that plan includes running - 3 weeks until race day - don't mess with the plan.

Getting in touch with my inner Type A....and drinking lots of fluids and resting.

Julie

Run, Julie, Run - Is It Enough?

2011-04-13T12:07:00.000-04:00

Progress. I am making progress!

But is it enough?

That's the question plaguing me these days. I am truly amazed at my progress. When I think back to what I could do last Fall when I started thinking about this race (North Face 50-Mile Endurance Challenge), I marvel at what I can do now.

There's a trail near my house with a long, steady hill. It's not so steep, but it is sustained. It's .4 miles with a 7% grade hill. A few months ago, I struggled to run the hill once, and usually had to walk some of it. When I did run, I was so slow that I might as well have been walking. Now I use that hill for hill repeats to build strength. It's tough, but I'll do 5 or 6 repeats.

And my long run last Sunday was just over 30 miles, all trails - some of them seriously steep. This week, I plan on a 35 mile long run. OK, it did take me 8 hours to run 30 miles - I am definitely not speedy - but I did it. I'm still new enough to long distance running that this blows me away - that I am capable of going out and running 30 miles, at any speed. Crazy, right?

Oh, and one fun thing from Sunday's run is that, for the first time, I had a running partner. It's hard to find someone else to run with when you're running more than a marathon a week. And even harder to find someone who runs at a similar pace. I've become a long distance trail runner; we're a fairly small subset of all runners. I'm used to running alone. It was fun, though, to have a partner for the day.

Training runs of 30+ miles are not easy. They take a lot out of me, but they are doable. I'm tired and sore by the end, but my body is not trashed. I'm recovering quite well after. I can imagine sucking it up and running further.

So why am I worried if it's enough? Well, partly because that's just my nature - and fear. And partly it's about speed. I'm feeling pretty confident that I have the endurance, both body and mind. But this race has cutoff times. I'm not sure if I can cover enough ground fast enough to make it.

There are two hard cutoff times during the race: at around 20 miles and 34 miles. If I don't reach those points in time, I'm out of the race. And then the last cutoff is the finish. Even if I make it to mile 34 in time, if I don't cross the finish in 14 hours, I don't officially finish.

I knew this when I signed up, and I didn't care. In some ways I still don't. Even if I just run 20 miles, it will be fun. Preparing for this race has been a great experience. To me, this is about the whole experience, every step, not just my time on race day. Race day is only one small part of it.

But.... Now that I'm this far into it, I really do want to do well. This is one of the harder ultra races out there; it's very difficult and technical. A lot of really good runners don't finish. There is nothing wrong with a DNF (did not finish). I think it's a huge accomplishment to have gotten to the point that I can even think about this. But I really, really want to finish!

Well, nothing to do but keep up my training for these last few weeks. Keep training. Keep doing the next thing right in front of me. Race day is a month away. Can't control a month from now - only today.

Julie

We Are What Other People Think We Are?!?

2011-04-06T17:51:00.000-04:00

A new study, recently published in the Journal of Counseling Psychology, found that the most important factor in how a woman appreciates her body is other people's opinion of how she looks. However, they also found that the more women focused on how their bodies function rather than others' opinions, the more they appreciated their bodies. Researchers from Ohio State University were interested in the subject because it appears that how women appreciate their bodies influences how they eat and take care of themselves - like eating when they're hungry rather than because of their emotional state, for instance. The researchers say it's about respect: the more women like their bodies, the more likely they are to treat them well by eating properly, getting appropriate health screenings, and exercising. I've featured the study in the Life-Cise News page.

I found this quite an interesting study for women in general, as well as for us as cancer survivors. The study highlights what a big role the media and the opinions of those close to us have. When women were less concerned with what others thought, they were more likely to focus on how well their bodies were functioning. And that, in turn, led to better eating habits.

It's of particular interest to us as cancer survivors, I think, because body image can be such a big deal after cancer - for men and women. Depending on the type of cancer, we can end up alive but with a markedly changed body, either in form or function. Besides dealing with Cancer, we have bodies that may look and act very differently than we're used to. Getting used to it can be a difficult transition.

What I liked about the study, and what I think has relevance to us, is the idea that we can improve how we feel about our bodies by focusing on function.

I have spoken and written on the subject of body image after cancer. It can be quite shocking to suddenly have a body that looks dramatically different - even if it's dramatic to no one but ourselves. What I found was that, as I regained my strength and was able to return to activities that were important to me, I felt better about my new body. My experience was right in line with this study: it was function that led the way.

Julie

Check Your Sources

2011-04-03T10:13:00.001-04:00

Gillian reminded me of the importance of checking your sources when doing your own health research. I really appreciate the reminder; it's something I usually try to mention. As you are researching your disease, it is super important to make sure your information is reliable.

With the internet, access to information is available to everyone. Open access also means that just about anyone can put just about anything out there. Just because you read it, doesn't mean it's accurate. Pay attention to the sources of what you read.

I like to start with some of the big boys: the National Institutes of Health (www.NIH.org), the American Heart Association (www.AmericanHeart.org), or the American Cancer Society (www.cancer.org). The National Institutes of Health has several subdivisions dedicated to specific diseases, such as the National Cancer Institute (www.Cancer.gov). Many medical centers have good online resources also. The Mayo Clinic, MD Anderson are two that have excellent online resources. You can also check out some of the major medical journals, such as the New England Journal of Medicine or the British Medical Journal. MedlinePlus is one of the best sources. It's a website set up by the National Institutes of Health and produced by the National Library of Medicine. Because a lot of the medical information from some of those other sources can be quite technical and difficult to understand, MedlinePlus was designed for patients and their families. It provides information on specific diseases and conditions, drugs, treatments, and wellness issues, written in plain language for those of us without medical degrees.

Don't ignore complementary or alternative treatments. I am a great believer in doing everything we can to help our bodies, and that mainstream Western medicine might not have every answer. However, once again, get your information from reliable sources. Don't rely on hearsay evidence; demand that research on complementary treatments is as rigorous as mainstream treatments. The NIH actually has a branch devoted to complementary and alternative (CAM) medicine. The National Center for Complementary and Alternative Medicine (www://nccam.nih.gov/) provides a wealth of information on herbal remedies, mind/body practices, manipulative treatments, and energy work.

It's so important to find relatively unbiased, well-researched information. Always evaluate the information you're reading to determine if it's objective or just one person's opinion. Is it based on well-designed studies or just anecdotal evidence. Anecdotes can be fine and comforting, but you have to decide if you want to base your health and well-being on an anecdote. Is the information coming from an unbiased source? How much of a financial incentive does the author/researcher have?

You don't want to base your treatment on what some guy down the street heard in a bar, right? Be at least that discerning on the internet, too.

Julie

Oh, and since I know I have readers from many countries, I'd love to hear about some of your best local resources, too.

Love & Healthy Thoughts

2011-04-02T20:23:00.000-04:00

I was woken early this morning by the news that my dad had a heart attack. He's OK, thanks to quick and insistent action on my mom's part. He's resting fairly comfortably in the hospital for a few days. There doesn't seem to be a lot of serious damage, so he's expected to recover fully.

This was quite a shock - my dad is one of the last people I'd ever think about having a heart attack. He's active, eats well, weight is healthy, and exercises regularly. Well, as many of us know already, there are always exceptions to the rules.

In the coming days I'll be reading a lot about this, and about cardiac rehab. Of course, he'll have good therapists working with him, but I want to do my own research so I'm informed of what's expected. This is the same thing that I did with myself with my cancer, and before that with my spinal injury. It's what we all must do: educate ourselves about our disease/condition/injury. We must be our own best advocate! We are the only ones who are responsible 100% of the time; it's our life! Our doctors may be great, but they are only on our case for a limited amount of hours. We have people who love us, but they also have their own concerns some of the time. So it's up to us. We can't know everything, but we need to understand enough to ask the right questions.

So, I'll be reading up on cardiac rehab, and maybe contacting some colleagues who know more about this than I do. It's what I can do.

My dad is one of my biggest fans, and a frequent reader of this blog. Lots of love to you, Dad. And to you, too, Mom. Although Dad's the one in the hospital, Mom is the one who drove him there. It's never easy to be the one in the waiting room. Poor thing, I'm afraid we've really put her through her paces over the years: me being run down by a taxi/spinal injury, followed by cancer; my sister with dystonia; my brother getting shot when he was an Army Ranger; and now Dad. Love you both! Rest well tonight.

And if you have a minute in your busy lives, send out some healthy thoughts for my dad - I'd so appreciate it. Thanks!

Julie

Bundled up for a chilly Michigan sunset

(Oh, and so good to have you back, Chez! And Good luck tomorrow, Tonya!!! Have a blast!)

Return Of Rest Day Kitty

2011-04-01T22:15:00.000-04:00

I recently wrote a post about the importance of rest days. Our bodies get strong by stressing them, but then they need rest in order to adjust and recover from that stress. By stressing our muscles, we make them respond by getting stronger. But continuing to overstress them causes fatigue and injury.

Yesterday was my long run as I prepare for the North Face 50-mile Bear Mountain race. I ran 36 miles - woof! I ran it stupidly slow - but I did run it. I just didn't have much power yesterday; couldn't make myself go. The weather was nasty - cold, rain, sleet, snow. March was not going out in a very lamb-like manner! But I ran.

So today is rest, but not total rest. I want to focus on "active" recovery. After a hard workout, our bodies need rest to recover. But if we do nothing, our muscles tighten up even more, making recovery that much harder. Easy movement allows our muscles to recover, but keeps them from getting stiff.

It can be so tempting to laze around the house. I was quite content to sit around in my fuzzy pajamas with the reindeer on them (thanks, mom) all day. It was cold and rainy, and I had quite enough of that yesterday! I so wanted to stay curled up in my PJs. But I knew that I would regret it tomorrow when my legs stiffened up. So I put on some clothes and went out into the rain for a little walk/easy run. It was not enough to tire me out, but enough to get the muscles warmed up and moving. Then I came back and did some stretching.

If you've had a tough workout, give yourself a break. Take a day to recover, but make it active recovery. Do some light exercise in a different way. If you've done a big strength training workout, go for an easy swim or walk tomorrow. If you've had a hard run, do some yoga. Do something.

And this doesn't only apply if you're training for a marathon (or 2). Any time you do a tough workout for you, take it easy the next day, but still get in some activity.

When I was going through treatment, I applied the same principle after chemo. OK, so chemo isn't really like a hard workout, but it is tough on your body. Rest is crucial, of course. But I figured if active recovery was good after a hard workout, it couldn't hurt after chemo. The next day after each treatment, no matter how awful I felt, I would get a tiny bit of exercise. Not a lot, just enough to get my body moving. I would try to go for a walk, get outside - even if it was just a walk to the mailbox.

No, exercise and chemo are not at all the same, but the benefits from active recovery are pretty similar. It may seem like the very last thing you want to do, but if you get out of your fuzzy pajamas and move, your body will appreciate it.

Julie

Run, Julie, Run - The Big Question: Why?

2011-03-29T21:34:00.000-04:00

What am I doing? Why?.... Those are the most common questions I get. Well, that's after, "What??! You're nuts!"

When I announced in my post at the beginning of March that I was going to attempt the North Face 50-mile Endurance Challenge at Bear Mountain, I said that it was my way of celebrating 10 years of breast cancer survival. That explains why I'm doing something, but it doesn't explain why do this.

Sunrise over East River
after morning speed workout

I'm not sure I have an answer to that "why". I'm not sure I can say what turned me from a pretty recent convert to running - and a completely casual runner at that - into an ultra runner-in-the-making. Into someone who will get up at 5am to go to a speed workout with a bunch of other crazy runners. Into someone who plans my social life around my runs. Into someone who has how many pairs of running shoes in current rotation?!

The challenge? To test myself? Maybe that's part, but it's not the whole thing.

When people ask why, I'm a bit confused about what to say. Trust me, I know how absurd the idea of running 50 miles is. At least with climbing there is marginally a reason: because it's there. OK, maybe that's not much of a reason, but at least the climb is going somewhere - the top, and then the bottom - safely. But running 50 miles?

I found out about the race while hiking in Bear Mountain last spring. I came upon a lot of really tired runners and someone told me she was running 50 miles. I had the perfectly sane reaction of, "wow, that's seriously crazy!" But at the same time, as I was cheering on runners I didn't know, I had another thought, "whoa, seriously cool!" I came home, googled the race to see what it was, and promptly forgot about it.

During the summer when I was interviewed for my profile in Fitness Magazine, I was asked what my next big fitness goal was. I gave a few of my favorite ideas, but I hadn't committed to any of them. I realized in that moment how I missed having a really big goal. And then from the dark recesses of my mind came, "oh, and there's this crazy race in Bear Mountain....I'm not committing, but it intrigues me."

The idea of running a 50 mile race had taken hold. I still thought it was crazy, but it continued to bounce around in my head. Without really telling anyone, I started running slightly longer distances. I found I liked running longer, and then longer distances. And I liked running longer distances in the woods by myself even better.

What is it? Yes, it's the challenge. I do like pushing myself; I like exploring the edges to see what I can do.

I like having a goal, having a big goal. I enjoy analyzing the situation to see what I need to improve, making a plan for how to make those improvements, and carrying out the plan (even with all the little delays and failures). There's something orderly and comforting about making all the little steps that get me to the goal.

And I like that it's such a completely absurd goal. Maybe it's the iconoclast in me that wants change ideas about what's possible. I mean it when I say that none of us should be limited by our disease, our treatment, or our survival. None of us - and that includes me! (no, I don't expect anyone else to follow suit by running 50 miles. I just hope to encourage anyone to do whatever it is that you dream of.)

Of course, it's such an absurd goal that if I can't do it, who will fault me? I mean, who expects anyone to run 50 miles?

Along the way toward this goal, I've found many unexpected pleasures: friends, love from so many sources (a huge thank you to all who reached out to me here and on the Life-Cise Forum page when I hit a low spot!!!), tremendous beauty, and space and time for my brain to wander. Yes, there's a lot of mind-wandering to be done on a 6 or 7 hr. long run!

I fear that I have failed in explaining the why. It's all of these things and none of these things. I'm doing it because the idea took hold in my brain. I'm doing it because I can eat pretty much anything I want when I'm burning 3000 calories in a run.

I'm doing it because, just maybe, I can.

Julie

In Praise Of Technology

2011-03-28T12:19:00.000-04:00

How cool is the internet!?!

OK, I realize that it's not exactly new, so this sounds kind of silly and naive. But once in a while I still marvel at what we can do - and what we take for granted.

I've had clients living in far-flung corners of the world - China, and now Africa. Through Life-Cise & the internet, I can work with clients via email or Skype. I also shoot personalized exercise DVDs for people. Now, normally I just mail the DVDs. But I recently had to figure out how to get a very large video file to a client in Africa because mail wasn't a good option. I'm not at all a tech queen, so I was totally amazed that it could be done, once I figured out how to do it. (the options for sending the file were limited because it was HUGE. A 50 minute video is a really big file.)

So, I repeat: how cool is the internet!?!

And besides, without the internet, I would never have developed some wonderful online friendships....

Julie

Exercise, Sex & Heart Attacks

2011-03-27T13:22:00.000-04:00

There was news this last week about how occasional exercise and sex increases the risk of heart attack. If you missed it, you can read about it on the Life-Cise News page. Basically, a new study found a significant increase in the risk of heart attack and sudden cardiac death after moderate to intense activity - like exercise or sex.

This was reported by lots of news outlets. And once again, I'm bugged by the way the news was presented. In most of the reports I read, the focus was on the increased risk from exercise. What was often missing, or was relegated to the bottom of the article, was the fact that the risk was lessened for people who get regular exercise. In fact, the risk of heart attack after an episode of intense activity was lowered 45% for each additional day of moderate exercise the person gets per week.

So, the study was really talking about people who don't get regular exercise, but go out once in a while and shovel snow or play a tough game of basketball. The folks who get moderate exercise on a more regular basis were much less likely to have a cardiac event triggered by exercise.

I read the study as yet another reason to exercise regularly, not as a problem with exercise - that it can increase the risk of heart attack. We all sometimes have to do things in our daily lives that require intense physical effort. If we're in somewhat better shape from regular exercise, we're less likely to overstress our heart (which is just another muscle).

I just wish that more in the media would choose to present the findings in a more positive, helpful light. But I guess headlines of Sex & Exercise Cause Heart Attacks or Exercise Can Kill You get more hits.

Julie

Run, Julie, Run - Help!

2011-03-19T19:48:00.001-04:00

I need your help! Suffering from serious lack of confidence. I posted on the Life-Cise Forum page that I'm feeling a big dose of freak-out about my race. Please stop by if you have any words of advice: http://life-cise.com/forum.

I told you I'd be turning to you all. I'm usually good with motivation,but I'm overwhelmed.

Julie

Run, Julie, Run - 1,2,3,4...30!

2011-03-18T12:28:00.000-04:00

1,2,3,4...30. Thirty mile long run yesterday!

I admit I was feeling nervous about heading out on a 30-mile run. I'm not sure why I was feeling so nervous; I've been doing long runs each week in preparation for my 50-mile race. I've been logging in about a marathon a week. So why be freaked out by a few more miles?

But I was. I was wasting time getting ready, kept thinking I might put it off until tomorrow.... It was a lot like how I felt a few weeks ago when I finally did a 25-mile training run. I knew I probably could do it, but kept putting it off. Somehow really believing it eluded me. Of course, once I started I was fine. And I discovered that, yes, I can run that far.

So much of attaining any goal is mental! We can do all the prep work, practice, get ready. But often it's the hurdle of really believing, of trusting ourselves, that's the hardest part.

Granted, going out to run 30 miles really is kind of a big deal. If nothing else, it's a real commitment of time! But any goal, big or small, can have these little mental roadblocks.

How do you deal with them?

For me, there's definitely a certain amount of procrastination. I avoided making the jump to 25 miles for a couple of weeks. I wasn't feeling great, and the roads were bad because of snow, but really I was just making excuses. I kept falling short of my distance goals. The reality was that I was just scared, and I'm not even sure why.

I finally had to just kick myself in the rear. If I don't do the work now, no matter how scary it is, I will suffer on race day. COME ON, JULIE, QUIT WHINING & RUN!!

I just had to re-focus on my goal: I want to complete the North Face 50 mile Endurance Race in Bear Mountain! And a little extra prodding from my coach helped, too.

Once I got going, it wasn't so bad. I've been training hard, so it really wasn't that hard to push myself up a level. It was just my brain getting in the way.

And, once I pushed past my fears I had some revelatory moments - I really have made progress. There's a traffic circle inside Harriman Park that's around 7.5 miles from home. I remember just a month ago when I ran there the first time. It was my turnaround point on a 15-mile run. I was so relieved to finally reach it and head home, but home seemed so very far away. Yesterday, when I came to the circle on my way home, I thought, "oh good, I'm almost home now, not much further!" And earlier in my run I was just enjoying myself, feeling pretty good, when I looked down at my watch and saw that I was at 10.33 miles. I was feeling totally comfortable, not tired, just having fun - like I was just out for a little run - and it was already 10 miles. I thought back to last Fall when 10 miles seemed impossibly far for me. Progress!

Now, I'm realize that I'm running distances that any reasonable person would consider insane. But the fear, the challenge of pushing past our fears, is the same no matter what the goal is. When my goal was to walk to the mailbox after surgery, I faced the same fears, and got through it with the same determination. Regaining strength after treatment, losing a few pounds, running 50 miles - it's all the same. We can figure out what our bodies have to do to make it happen. But our brains are just as important. Keep focused on the goal and why it's important to you. And sometimes you just have to say, "come on!"

Julie

Rest Day

2011-03-16T16:46:00.000-04:00

Today is a rest day for me. Yesterday was a very tough (and VERY EARLY) workout. I went to one of the Triathlon Club group runs at Asphalt Green. It was 75 minutes of speed drills (at 5:45AM!).

Ooph, tough workout! And I have a long run coming up - 30 miles this week.

So today I'm resting.

It's really important to rest. Muscles need rest. Without it, they become over-stressed and can be injured. And this is true whether you are training intensely (like I am right now), trying to get back into shape after some time off, or stepping it up a bit to get ready for summer activities.

That doesn't mean you (or I) should lay around and do nothing, though. In fact, that's not good at all; our muscles will just get tight and stiff. We're better off with active recovery - light activity. This allows our muscles to recover but keeps them moving.

Our muscles get strong by being stressed. But then they need rest to recover and affect the changes caused by the stress.

Therefore, give yourself a day between tough workouts. If you have a heavy training day (whatever that means for you), take it easy the next day. Go for an easy walk, do some light gardening, or maybe some easy stretching. That's what I'm going to do now - nice little walk and some stretching.

And tomorrow it's 30 miles - oh my!

Julie

Life-Cise Forum

2011-03-13T10:24:00.000-04:00

I want to introduce you all to one of the features on the new Life-Cise website: the Forum page. You can ask questions or comment on other topics. I'm hoping we'll get some lively discussions going. It was important to me, as we redesigned the site, to add a platform that would make it easy for people to ask questions and share ideas.

Currently, we've got a discussion started about committing to goals. It's a topic I've been thinking about a lot over the last many months as I prepare for my big race.

I hope you'll stop by the Life-Cise Forum page if you have a question, or just for a visit.

Julie

New Life-Cise Is Live! (yea!)

2011-03-09T20:21:00.000-05:00

Yea - it's finally finished. The new Life-Cise website is up. I'm pretty excited about it. It's been a lot of work getting all of this together, but I'm happy with the results. There are a lot of new features and information. I hope you'll stop by to check it out.

Julie

Run, Julie, Run - The Next Big Thing

2011-03-01T22:31:00.000-05:00

2011 marks 10 years of survivorship for me. This is a big milestone, and I feel like it warrants something significant on my part. So, on May 7, I'll be running a race to celebrate 10 years of not being dead. It's one of the North Face Endurance Races, and it takes place in Bear Mountain Park - my back yard! They will run races of a variety of lengths. Since I'm hitting what feels like a really significant milestone, I'll be running a really significant length. Those of you who have been following this blog or Life-Cise on Facebook or Twitter know that I've had something big in mind for a while. I've been hinting at it. I've been training for it.

So here it is: I'll be attempting the North Face Bear Mountain 50-mile race!

Yes, that's right - that wasn't a typo. I'll be running a 50-mile trail race.

I know that probably sounds like an odd way to celebrate. I'm not even sure I can explain why, but it's something I want to do.

It is quite remarkable to me that I am able to contemplate doing something as crazy as this; that I'm even here to think about it. I had two aggressive tumors, with margins that weren't particularly good, and I had a high number of positive lymph nodes. I was very aware that my chances of long-term, disease-free survival were not great. I'm pretty sure that all the women I've known who had as many positive nodes are all gone now, as are too many of the people I've met along the way. I am keenly aware every single day how extraordinarily lucky I am to be alive and healthy 10 years later!

During the early days of my survivorhood (is that a word?), two aspects of my life took on greater significance: music and exercise. I worked (playing music) as much as I could during treatment. It felt like a gift to be able to go to work and play great music. I would be filled with such gratitude each time I walked out on stage.

The other thing was exercise. I don't claim that exercise saved my life; I had great doctors for that. But exercise helped to keep me focused and strong (or at least less weak) during the darkest times. What my body could do changed during treatment, but I always felt better when I got out and moved. Exercise, whether getting out into the woods, or going to the pool, even if I couldn't go very far or fast, was enough sometimes to remind me why I was fighting. And when I finished treatment - and instead of feeling like celebrating I just felt freaked out - it was exercise and the goal of returning to climbing that saved me. No, exercise didn't literally save my life, but it always kept me headed in the right direction - toward health and toward life.

It seems right, therefore, to mark this milestone with a major fitness goal. I've recently discovered that I love trail running, and have thrown myself into it. Since last Fall, I've run three trail 1/2 marathons, and my first attempt at a marathon - which turned into a 50K by mistake. I have no illusions about this race, though. This will be tough! With so little experience, I probably am crazy to attempt this. Yes - to all those people saying, "wouldn't it be smarter to start with a shorter race?" - yes, it would. But the remarkableness of 10 years calls out for something daring, something extraordinary!

Over the next couple of months, I will be excited, terrified, exhausted, freaked out, and so much more. I will be turning to all of you for encouragement and inspiration - I think I'm going to need a lot! Each of you who I've gotten to know through this blog or through Life-Cise have your own goals, your own struggles. No matter how large or lofty your goal - or how mundane, you inspire me. I know from my own experience that there is no athlete who understands struggle and perseverance the way that someone facing cancer does. So, I will be looking to you when I'm needing some help.

This may be beyond me, but I'm going to try. I know what it's like to not reach a goal. I've written before about goals and climbing. Years ago in Ecuador, I chose not to attempt a summit. I knew how hard the previous mountains had been, and I knew Chimborazo would be harder. I looked deep inside and knew I didn't have it in me - not that day. Running 50 miles in Bear Mountain Park is a huge undertaking for me, for anyone. I know how hard I had to train for the marathon-turned-50K. I know how hard that race was for me. Make no mistake, it was tough on me; I suffered. I had plenty of moments during and after the race when I wondered if I could continue toward this next big goal. But this time, when I look deep inside myself, I see more.

Julie

A Little Encouragement Can Go A Long Way

2011-02-24T20:56:00.001-05:00

I admit, I've been having a bit of an off week. I was upset by the death of a friend. I've found it hard to really focus on the final editing for the redesign of the Life-Cise website (but it really should be live within a week or so....focus, Julie!). I was feeling just a little under the weather - not sick, but maybe feeling like I might be coming down with something. And maybe because I wasn't feeling my best, I've been feeling all sorts of aches and pains in my legs from running.

I wasn't able to keep up with my running coach's plans for the week. I told him about it, so he adjusted my plan, cutting down the miles and easing up on some of the harder workouts. Argh! I hate not being able to keep up with the plan! I hate having to back off!

But I also believe in listening to my body (and my coach). So even though I'm training for something big - more about that later - I know I needed to put my pride aside and take it easy. A big part of any training, no matter how big or small the goal, is to learn when to push and when to rest. Sometimes you do need to just kick yourself in the butt, and sometimes what you need is a nap.

So, it's the right thing to do, but that doesn't mean it feels good.

I was feeling pretty discouraged yesterday. And then I got a message from my little brother. He was just calling to say hello, but said something like, "I know you're probably out running or something. You know, I'm really impressed with what you're trying to do. I'm really proud of you." (oh, this is going to make my mom all weepy-eyed)

It was a quick, simple, little message - but it made me feel better. He knows what I'm trying to do. It's a really big, tough, scary thing for me (more about that soon...), but no matter how crazy it might be, he's there cheering me on.

It really is amazing what a few words of encouragement can do! It's like a little shot of energy - the same boost I get from a carload of old ladies or the teenagers waving and cheering me on when I'm out on a long run, trudging up a steep hill. They have no idea how much it can mean somewhere around mile 20! (this is different than the drivers who curse at me for being on the road, or play a game to see just how close they can come without hitting me, or run me off the road because they're too busy talking on the phone - please, please, please do not be one of those drivers!!!!)

I may have fallen short of my goals for the week, but I'm still moving forward. I'm running another half marathon on Saturday, and then I'll run some more, and some more....Thanks for the boost, Mike.

And for all of you (because I know you all have your own goals), I offer my brother's words to you: I know what you're trying to do and I'm proud of you!

Julie

Another Loss

2011-02-18T22:12:00.001-05:00

While out for an afternoon ski, I got a call telling me of the sad news of the passing of yet another friend. Ellie was a violinist and a thoroughly lovely person. She and her husband, also a violinist, retired from the NY Philharmonic, were 2 of the dearest people I know. I had the good fortune to be able to sometimes play chamber music with them and to call them my friends.

This was Ellie's second cancer. She survived breast cancer years before me. But she had been sick for the last year with a new cancer. The last time I saw her was just before Christmas. We were playing a concert together. She had been receiving in-patient chemotherapy; she had just finished her final treatment 2 days before. I loved that no matter how tired she was, she was determined to play the concert. Just 2 days out of the hospital and she would not be stopped. As she put it, "What else am I going to do?"

My heart goes out to Alan, her husband, and their whole family - especially their grandchildren to whom she was so wildly devoted!

When I was just starting chemo, Ellie and I were playing some job together (those 3 tenors, or the 3 Irish tenors, or the 3 Mo-town tenors...). We had dinner together. It was the first time I had seen her since my diagnosis. My hair had just begun to fall out. I remember how upset and angry she was when she heard - that was when she told me she, too, was a breast cancer survivor. At the time, it seemed odd to me that she got so upset, that she seemed to take it so very personally.

By now, I understand that. I, too, take it personally. Her death has hit me hard. All the deaths hit me hard. Is it just that I'm now in my mid-40s, so more people I know will be getting sick and dying? Or is it that because I'm part of the cancer community I simply know more people who die? Or just because of my history that I pay more attention?

Maybe this is why I get annoyed sometimes at the feel-good, hard-charging cancer warriors who act as if cancer is just a bump in the road - something you have & you get over & get on with your life! Please know that I truly do appreciate what all those organizations have done and continue to do! I certainly owe a great debt of gratitude to them for making it possible to be an energized, empowered cancer survivor.

But cancer is not always something we just get over. It is not just the flu. Some of us are hugely lucky to become long-term survivors in good health. But even we give up a lot in the process. And we know far too many who are not as lucky as we are. Far too often, cancer is a still a disease that ends lives.

All of this comes at the same time that I have been doing the final editing for the new Life-Cise website (coming soon, I promise)...more information, more services, more stuff. So all of this pensiveness (I choose to think of it as pensiveness rather than plain old negativity) is coloring all of my thoughts about what I'm trying to do.

The thing is, in spite of a completely realistic view of cancer (yes, it does sometimes kill people), I do believe in doing everything possible to live a good life for as long as we can. No one knows how long they'll be around - not us, not the "healthy" folks who have never had cancer, not the old, not the young. None of us knows. But we - those of us who have faced cancer - understand that maybe just a bit better than most. We don't really know what the future holds for us. I don't, even though I'm almost a 10-year survivor now.

So I think it's that much more important to live as well as we can.

Julie

Exercising Outdoors Has It's Perqs

2011-02-15T11:03:00.000-05:00

Do you exercise in a gym, at home, or outdoors? If you get your exercise outdoors, you could be getting more juice from your workouts beyond the physical benefits.

A review of existing studies found that exercising outdoors showed an addition benefit of mental well-being compared with indoor exercise. Outdoor activity was associated with increased energy and a sense of revitalization, as well as decreased anger, confusion, and symptoms of depression.

Also, people taking part in outdoor activity said they were more likely to engage in that activity in the future.

I love being outdoors! If I have a choice, I will usually choose to exercise outside. Even if the weather is nasty, I would rather be out in it than in a gym on a treadmill. (but that's just me)

One of the reasons I love exercising outdoors is that it somehow gives my mind the space to wander. It energizes me and calms me at the same time.

Back when I was diagnosed with breast cancer and throughout my treatments, this was so important to me. The exercise was great, but I also loved the sense of well-being I got from being out in nature. There was something so comforting to me about seeing all the faces of nature: beautiful, wicked weather, death and decay, and new life. Somehow it made whatever I was facing seem more natural. It was just another part of life, or at least my life - not unlike a tree that gets split but continues to struggle to live, sending out new shoots seeking light.

I always stress that you should do activities that you enjoy and that you're most likely to continue to do. If getting on the treadmill for 45 minutes a day is what will get it done for you, then keep doing that. But try adding in a walk outside once in a while. You might find it helps in more ways than just exercising your body.

Julie

Lymph Node Removal May Not Be Necessary In Some Breast Cancers

2011-02-09T13:39:00.002-05:00

OK, this is HUGE news in breast cancer-ville! Researchers have found that for some women with early breast cancer, lymph node removal may not be necessary.

Women who's tumors were smaller than 2 inches (T1 or T2), had a lumpectomy, and had 1 or 2 positive lymph nodes, were randomly assigned to have 10 or more additional nodes removed or to leave the nodes alone. Most of the women had radiation and chemotherapy or hormonal treatments. There was no significant difference between the two groups in 5-year survival. I've written more about the study on the Life-Cise News page.

This is big news! This, combined with previous research, is potentially practice-changing.

And this could make huge differences in the quality of life for thousands of women. Node removal carries risks. As many of us know, we face potential infections, pain, limited range of motion, and increased risk of lymphedema.

Imagine, not having to add worry of lymphedema to all the other worries that go with a cancer diagnosis.

But, as important as this study is, I find myself feeling just a little skeptical. It's interesting. I understand the findings, but emotionally, it's somehow hard to accept that less treatment/surgery is good enough. It's easier for me to accept an research that shows that more is necessary. I guess it's because we all feel such pressure to do everything we possibly can to beat this disease. I never want to go through all of what I did again, so I'm happy to add on something more. But doing less feels scary to me.

Don't get me wrong, I'm elated by this research. It doesn't matter for me, but could have such a major impact on other women in the future. It's wonderful for them.

I just find my fear of doing less interesting. Your thoughts? I'm curious how some of you feel about this.

Julie

Preventing Cancer Through Exercise

2011-02-07T21:17:00.000-05:00

Last Friday, Feb. 4, was World Cancer Day. In the midst of the flurry of statements and press releases from around the world were new exercise recommendations from the World Health Organization (WHO), Global Recommendations on Physical Activity for Health.

The WHO recommends 150 minutes of moderate exercise per week, which is around 30 minutes 5 or more days per week. They estimate that lack of physical activity is the main cause of about a quarter of all breast and colon cancers, as well as 27% of diabetes cases and 30% of heart disease.

That's means a quarter of some pretty serious diseases are entirely preventable!

The World Cancer Research Fund and the American Institute for Cancer Research estimate that one third of common cancers in the U.S., U.K., and China are preventable by simple lifestyle changes - don't smoke, eat a healthier diet, and exercise more. (I've written about both statements on the Life-Cise News page.)

And for those of us who have already had cancer, we have evidence from numerous studies that exercise positively impacts the outcome for several cancers.

So, do we really need more to convince us? Of course, I know most of you reading this blog are already convinced. But besides working to keep ourselves active and motivated, maybe we can also do a little something to encourage those around us.

Ask your best friend or sister to exercise with you. Having an exercise partner is a great way to keep motivated. Don't live close? It doesn't really matter. Set fitness goals and check in with each other as often as you need.

It will be fun. It will be good for both of you. And it might just save her life - or yours.

Julie

I Am Chastised

2011-01-31T13:48:00.003-05:00

I am chastised. OK, maybe not literally: Chas-tise [chas-tahyz], to discipline, esp. by corporal punishment. But I am engaging in a little self-rebuking.

I've hired a running coach. As you know, I'm really into trail running now, and recently ran my first 50K. I have big ideas, though (yes, bigger than my 8+ hour 50K), so I'm getting some expert help. I fully believe in getting help when I need it. I know that I can do a lot on my own - I trained for my first long distance race on my own - but I could use some help for the next stage.

My first task with my new coach was to give him a log of an average workout week.

Uh oh! I'm very good about making a plan. But it turns out that I'm quite bad about keeping a record of what I actually do.

I frequently recommend that you all keep an exercise log. I've written about the value of doing that here, I talk about it on the Life-Cise Beyond Treatment page. It's a great idea. It lets you track what you're doing and your progress. It's often hard to really judge progress, but with a log, you can go back and see what you could do a month ago compared with what you can do now.

Your log doesn't have to be complicated. It can simply be a note jotted down in a calendar - either in paper or on your computer. You can keep a notebook. It can be as detailed as you want, including things like heart rate. But most of the time, a simple note will suffice.

I will be doing a better job now. I have a detailed plan from my trainer, and now I'll be keeping track of my workouts, too.

I really do believe in the value of keeping track of your workouts. I guess this falls into the category of "do as I say, not as I do".

Julie

Now, to run....

Fun (and Exercise) in a New York Winter

2011-01-26T16:07:00.000-05:00

In the spirit of fun, here's what I've been doing for fun & exercise with all our snow (that's Ron):

I also tried to get some action shots. Hat-cam did not work. I also tried belt-cam and bra-cam. Both have their limitations.

Belt-cam:

Bra-cam:

This is just some silliness on my part. But it leads into something of more substance. As we're being blanketed by snow here in the Northeast once again, a new study has been released that finds spending more time indoors in more heated and air-conditioned buildings may be contributing to increasing obesity. You can check out this new study (published in Obesity Reviews) on the Life-Cise News page. But basically, the researchers believe that the narrower range of temperatures we're exposed to limits both the heat that our bodies produce (thereby burning more calories) and our body's ability to generate heat.

Also, health experts from the University of Missouri found that the tendency to stay indoors and eat comfort food when the weather is bad leads to people feeling less content. They believe that cuddling up indoors with a big bowl of popcorn or ice cream (or whatever counts as comfort food) adds to the winter-time blues experienced by so many.

So, no matter the weather, try to get out and do something. Find something fun: build a snowman, have a snowball fight, go sledding. Or just take a walk around the block. It will be good for your body, your mind, and maybe your weight.

And I'll close with this fabulous quote from one of the researchers at the University of Missouri.

"Regarding exercise and physical activity in the winter, some is better than none, more is better than some and too much is difficult to get," said Steve Ball, state fitness specialist and associate professor in the College of Human Environmental Sciences.

Julie

Hop, Skip, & A Jump

2011-01-24T13:40:00.002-05:00

I posted this video this morning on the Life-Cise Facebook page. I love the idea of using FUN to encourage people to do what's good for them.

We all know that we need to get more exercise. We all know that simple steps can make a difference in our health. We know that it would be better for us if we walked up the stairs instead of riding the escalator. As we run through our day, though, how many of us actually make that choice?

Knowing it and doing it are two different things!

Fun. That's one element that too often is lost in talk of health and fitness. We get bogged down in theory and numbers - how many calories, how many METS, oxygen uptake.... What we need is simply to move more.

Of course, if you're training for a specific sport or recovering from injury or surgery, you will need some very specific advice. But if you're just trying to make some changes for better health, try focusing on fun activities that will get you moving more. You are much more likely to stick with it if you enjoy yourself. If exercise feels like nothing but a chore, you're probably going to quickly look for ways to avoid it.

If you hate walking on the treadmill, don't do it. Do something you like. Make it fun. If you get a kick out of putting on some dance music & dancing around your house when no one is looking, then make a point to do that. I had a Life-Cise client once who sheepishly admitted that what she thought was really fun was skipping. It reminded her of being a kid. I told her to go out in the park and skip. I mean, it was New York City - you can see all sorts of people doing all sorts of weird things in the park; who's going to care if she's skipping? We did add in some weight training a couple days a week as well, but made sure that fun was a key element in everything.

If you're starting out, if you're struggling to maintain your workouts, if you've gotten bored with your exercise routine, change it. It's your body, it's not rocket science (no offense meant to other trainers, but sometimes we in the fitness profession make it way too serious). Make up silly little challenges for yourself. Do something that makes you laugh. I often come up with completely absurd challenges for myself at the gym that leave me laughing out loud. OK, I may look like I'm a crazy person, but I'm having fun and I'm getting a good workout. So, who cares what I look like?

Remember when we were kids? Most of us ran around constantly, playing games - moving. We were exhausted by the end of the day. Instead of just walking to the bus stop, we'd hop over cracks in the sidewalk, leap over bushes, run backwards or sideways.

Why not instill just a hint of that sense of adventure and fun into your ideas of exercise? (Let me know if you need some help in coming up with fun ideas) If you're having fun, you're more likely to continue. You're more likely to actually look forward to exercise. You'll feel re-energized.

You'll have fun!

Julie

But What If My Neck Gets Tired From Keeping My Chin Up?

2011-01-22T20:16:00.000-05:00

I'd like to explore an idea from my last post a little further. After I wrote the post, I continued to think about the idea of positive attitude and negativity in our lives as cancer survivors. My thoughts echoed some conversations I've had with newly diagnosed friends.

There's definitely pressure to "think positive", to keep our chins up. It hits us on several fronts. The pressure comes from our family and friends, who - in all fairness to them - just hate to see us suffer. They know they can't really take away our pain and fear, but they want to offer something comforting to us. They are frightened as well, and hope that there is a connection between what we think and what our bodies do. So they exhort us to keep up a good attitude, wishing a smile on our face can cure all our ills.

It comes from the popular media. There are countless books, some from very well-known authors, telling us that we control our bodies. All we need is a strong enough will to live. (this common attitude always bothered me because I'm quite sure that all the people I've known who died from some disease wanted to live every bit as much as I did.) It's a pervasive, feel-good story: against all odds, she believed so strongly, wanted to live so badly, that she stepped back from death's doorstep. It makes for a lot of bad TV movies.

Pressure also comes from some in the cancer community. Sometimes, in an effort to empower survivors, some advocacy/support organizations leave no room for anything other than charging up that hill (and looking good while you do it).

And the pressure comes from ourselves. We want to survive! We want to do anything that might give us an edge against our disease. If we believe at all (and I do) in a connection between the mind and body, it's hard not to imagine our thoughts might affect our survival. If there's even the chance that our thoughts might influence our bodies, we're willing to try to banish all negative thoughts.

The problem is that cancer is pretty negative. It's impossible to face a cancer diagnosis and not feel frightened, confused, angry, or depressed - at least some of the time. People die from our disease - how is it possible to not have some pretty negative thoughts when faced with the facts? (my opinion: people who don't admit to these feelings are lying.)

With all this pressure, it's easy to fall into feeling guilty about our perfectly normal feelings. It is normal to feel scared. It's normal to feel angry. It's normal to feel anything.

And interestingly, the guilt seems to be unfounded, at least when it comes to our survival. For all the talk and accepted popular wisdom, a positive attitude doesn't actually have any affect on disease outcome. An Australian study, led by Penelope Schofield, found that high levels of optimism had no affect on survival in lung cancer survivors. In addition, the study found that encouraging a positive attitude may only add to the burden for the cancer patient (Cancer, 2004, March 15). And a review of psychology literature and medical studies found no evidence of positive attitude changing the outcome for cancer survivors, contrary to popular claims (Annuls of Behavioral Medicine, 2010, February).

I think this is good. Thinking about the possibility that my disease could kill me, as it has so many others, will not kill me. Feeling desperately afraid that my cancer could come back will not cause it to come back. To me, this is good; it's liberating.

That's not to say I believe that attitude makes no difference. It may not make a difference of whether I live or die, but it can make a difference in how I feel or what I choose to do. If I choose to find something positive in my situation, I may be more likely to stay engaged with my life. I may be more likely to find enjoyment. And I may be more likely to continue to want to take care of myself. I may be more likely to eat better, exercise, and continue to maintain friendships.

And some of these things might just make a difference.

Julie

It's Not All Pretty Ribbons

2011-01-20T18:41:00.000-05:00

Today I found out that Daria, of Daria-LivingwithCancer, is in the hospital and no longer able to post to her blog. This latest news was posted by her husband, Don. Daria has metastatic breast cancer. The trial she's been in has affected her liver. She was taken to the hospital last night by her husband.

I wish all peace and strength to both Daria and Don.

Daria is one of those people who I've never met, but whose bad news breaks my heart. Once again, I find myself with tears streaming down my face as I write about someone I only know through the internet. I read Daria's blog regularly. I appreciate that she dedicated herself to writing every day about what life is like with metastatic cancer.

So often, metastatic survivors are forgotten in all the survivor hype. In order to give hope to the many with cancer, sometimes those for whom cancer is not just a temporary setback feel ignored. They are not the cancer success stories; they are what we all fear. For any of you who missed it, there is a great article in the New York Times this week about life with mets, "A Pink Ribbon Race, Years Long."

There have been great improvements in detection, treatment, but especially in quality of life for survivors of all types of cancer. Through advocacy and awareness campaigns, many more people feel more capable of fighting their disease.

But the sad fact is that sometimes cancer comes back. All the feel good programs and empowerment don't change the fact that cancer, any type of cancer, is a terrible disease. The races and ribbons don't change that.

Yes, those of us who survive may find ourselves stronger. We may find new meaning in our lives. We may just be happy to not be dead. We are grateful for our health when it is good, and suffer when we hear of another in our community who is not so lucky. But we all lose something along the way.

I fear that some may find this all very negative. There is sometimes pressure to keep a positive attitude about cancer. The pressure comes from our loved ones as well as from some in the cancer community.

I do believe in focusing on what is positive and hopeful, but do not deny reality in the process. And the reality is that cancer is a terrible disease. It destroys lives. Cancer - all forms - still needs so much more advocacy, awareness, and, above all, research.

Cancer is not just a pretty ribbon; it's lives.

Julie

The Health Of Our Care - "Of all the forms of inequality, injustice in healthcare is the most shocking and inhumane"

2011-01-17T13:42:00.001-05:00

Martin Luther King, jr. spoke before the 1966 National Convention of the Medical Committee for Human Rights held in Chicago. In that speech he said, "Of all the forms of inequality, injustice in healthcare is the most shocking and inhumane."

In 1966, the difference in life expectancy for blacks was about 7 years shorter than for whites. The difference between black men and white women was 14 years. (from the 2006 report to Congress on Life Expectancy) Those are national averages. I have read that life expectancy for blacks in the South in 1966 was 17 years less than whites living in the South. (I have not been able to check that statistic, however, I have checked all the other statistics by that writer, and they have all been correct. I assume, therefore, that this figure is also accurate.)

According to the Census Bureau's statistics, for people born in 2007, blacks in the U.S. will live 5 years less than whites, on average. (from the Census Bureau's Statistical Abstract of the United States, 2011)

So, I guess we've made some progress. But I would have hoped that in 45 years we would have made more progress than just gaining 2 years of health equality.

There are a myriad of causes: income disparity, social and cultural influences, genetics. But there can be no doubt that disparity in healthcare still plays a huge role.

In 2004, the Department of Health and Human Resources reported that the vast majority (48%) of uninsured in the U.S. were whites. However, although blacks make up about 12% of the population, they represent 15% of the uninsured. Hispanics are even more disproportionally represented among the uninsured. In 2004, Hispanics made up 14% of the population, but were 30% of the uninsured. By 2006, those numbers had risen to 20% uninsured for blacks, and 34% for people of Hispanic origin.

Unfortunately, lack of insurance is just part of the problem. Racial discrepancies also exist in the care that is given. Numerous studies have found differences in care even when insurance status and income is accounted for. In the January issue of Obesity, researchers report that blacks are far less likely to receive weight reduction and exercise counseling from their doctors than white patients. Researchers from MD Anderson found that while 74% of white women diagnosed with breast cancer received radiation after a lumpectomy, just 65% of black women were treated with radiation. (presented at the 2008 ASCO Breast Cancer Symposium) A study at Columbia University found racial disparities for patients with hepatocellular carcinoma. Blacks were much less likely to receive liver transplants than white patients. (from the journal Cancer) And in another study published in Cancer, researchers from Dana Farber found that for women diagnosed with breast cancer, black women were 9% less likely than white women to have a mastectomy or lumpectomy, 10% less likely to receive hormonal treatments, and 13% less likely to be given chemotherapy. Hispanic women were less likely to receive hormonal treatments. These disparities in treatment persisted even after accounting for differences in insurance and socio-economic levels.

These are just a few of the studies documenting the ongoing racial disparity in healthcare in this country. Social and economic differences affect insurance and access to good care. There are obviously deeply ingrained perceptions and misperceptions among some doctors and other healthcare workers. And there are social and cultural differences at work among both doctors and patients.

Yes, there have been improvements since the 1960s. Blacks no longer have to enter the hospital through the back door and, if they are treated at all, be treated by a doctor who cannot have privileges at that hospital because he is not white.

But we can - we must - do better.

We must make policy choices that are fair to all, regardless of race. We must do more to insure that doctors treat patients based on their illness or symptoms, rather than on preconceived ideas about what a white person or a black person should be told.

And we, as the people who utilize the healthcare system, must do better for ourselves. We must make more effort to overcome our discomfort - whether cultural, familial, or simply personal - over talking about our health and sensitive issues. It is our responsibility to seek care when we need it. It is also our responsibility to make healthier choices for ourselves. And it is our responsibility to demand from our leaders equal access to equal healthcare.

We can - we must - do better. "Of all the forms of inequality, injustice in healthcare is the most shocking and inhumane."

Julie

Where Should The Emphasis Be: Calories In or Calories Out?

2011-01-15T10:47:00.000-05:00

Did you make any resolutions for New Years? Like so many others, did you resolve to lose a certain number of pounds?

My paper delivery guy made a mistake a couple days ago. Instead of the New York Times, I got the local paper instead. Of course, I can still get all the news that's fit to print online, but it's not the same as feeling the pages in my hands, turning page after page, folding it just so.

So I took the opportunity to catch up on local events. In the local paper was an article, taken from USA Today, about losing weight. It said a recent poll found that two-thirds of people can't estimate how many calories they need. This part was fine; people need to be more aware of all aspects of their health. And knowing how much you should be eating is as important to making good choices as what you should be eating.

My problem with the article is that the entire emphasis on losing weight was about calories. The examples given for how many calories are needed for weight loss were for sedentary women and sedentary men. Exercise was only mentioned once, toward the end of the article, and only in passing.

Why not compare the calories needed for a sedentary man to lose a pound to how many calories he could burn if he walked a half hour a day? Why not give some ideas about building some extra exercise into the day in addition to how many calories are in a large order of McDonald's french fries? Why does the popular media so often focus only on the calories we're eating?

Weight loss is not just about eating less. It is about moving more. Weight is all about calories taken in and calories burned. If you burn more calories than you eat, you will lose weight.

Successful weight loss and maintenance does not come from dieting alone, or exercise alone. Successful, long-term weight maintenance is about balancing your calories in with your calories out. Eat sensibly, and move more.

Julie