Showing posts with label
Leukemia and Lymphoma Society.
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Showing posts with label
Leukemia and Lymphoma Society.
Show all posts
When the doctor tells you you have cancer, it does not seem real. I was shocked and in disbelief, not knowing what to think or how to feel. You look in the mirror. You force yourself to say the words, as if repetition makes it tangible, “...I have cancer.” …None of it makes any sense.
I am a cancer survivor. Well, I think... Hmm. I am a cancer... mitigator? Delayer of cancer? I am a cancer ...temporary reprieve-er.
I was diagnosed in April of 2010. Marginal zone, stage three, Non Hodgkins Lymphoma. Cancer. Too wide spread throughout my body to be cut out. After three and a half years of chemotherapy, my oncologist told me I am now in remission. Though mine is one that will come back. I will always worry about blood counts. I will always worry about other people being sick around me. So am I really "cured?" I do not have a good answer to that.
I do not like to dwell on my cancer. Not publicly anyway. Cancer is a downer. There is the nagging fear that I become a symbol of death and decay in people's eyes. I try to make people laugh. I like to help people feel empowered. To others it may seem I pretend my cancer does not exist. Good. I try. Maybe I do because others might think their problems are more manageable if they see me doing well. Maybe it's just because I do not like to acknowledge my mortality. I don't know why.
Shortly after I finished my first round of treatment I found the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society. With my wife and family by my side, the LLS became my support group. They helped me through it all. It is not an easy thing to do, either. Just the emotional side of any diagnosis is brutal. The physical effects left me lying on the floor, unable to summon the energy to move, unable to even care. Sometimes even sobbing at the unknown and uncontrollable. That is EXACTLY what I want to spare others from. I hope that someday, this never happens. That cancer is forgotten. That modern medicine renders cancer not only completely treatable, but preventable. Cancer should be forgotten, a shadow of our past.
I have said before that if I could do any one thing in this life, I would like to hold people's hands to lift them when they have fallen. Encourage them. Remind them of the things in this world worth living for. That is the essence of what the LLS is for me. It champions taking action to end cancer. More than just cancer though, it is about helping others as it has helped me.
The Light The Night event is a night when literally thousands of people get together to do that. To rally together in support of all those ever touched by cancer. It is a night that helps us see that we are part of something great. A rising tide of human accomplishment fighting to end cancer. One of my personal heroes, Gordon Hinckley said, “I believe in the principle that I can make a difference in this world. It may be ever so small, but it will count for the greater good.”
I ask you to join with me. Help me fight cancer. Please make a donation to help fund the fight against cancer. Your support helps to fund groundbreaking research, patient support programs, education and awareness programs and more. Please give whatever you can to fight cancer. Use the tool on the right to make a donation. Or, because that donation tool does not show up on a mobilized version of this blog, you can go to my Light The Night page as well.
I thank you with all my heart.
"How do you deal with the horrible guilt of knowing you are going to make it and someone else isn't?" was a question posed to me in the last few months. To be honest, there are very few people with whom I have been close that have gone through chemo. Well not that I know of. The closest of those I do know is my mother, who began her chemotherapy as I was ending mine. Only my Team In Training (TNT) teammate Lisa did not make it. As I thought about my answer, I thought of Lisa. I advised the person asking to find a common interest shared between the two and do that for the friend that will not make it. For Lisa, my teammate, I ran. In frustration I ran because that is what we shared. Both participants and fundraisers for the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society (LLS) while going through treatment, we connected through running and our TNT friends.
Now, six months after Lisa passed, I reconsider my response. April 21st 2014, I got my port removed. It was a very emotional day. At times I was elated. So happy that I could be done with that part of my life. Worried that it was all a delusion. That I would wake up still six months from being told I was in remission, and still not knowing if that day would ever come. Time seems to become an irregularity rather than a constant while going through chemo. Some days are blurry and you are not sure they really happen. Some days are fine.
The reality of time has set in and my port is out. I keep feeling my collarbone where I used to be able to feel the tube running from the port to the vein. A slight and squishable bump under the skin but on top of my left collarbone. My chest is still too tender for me to poke and prod though the place where the prongs from my port used to stick up is now only a yellowing bruise around the healing incision line. I kind of feel that part of me is missing like a soldiers amputated limb. Obviously different as I do not want it back; I do not miss it. Still, a part of me seems missing.
Monday, while very emotional, was a very happy day. The next day, April 22nd, my mother started another round of chemo. This one should not be as hard for her as her last round. Even though it is going to be more manageable this time, I still feel for her. And I wondered about that guilt. Worse, that same day my wife and I found out another friend of ours who has been struggling with her own fight, had gotten much worse. She just found out that her cancer had spread to her brain, liver, and a number of other organs. The following day, the 23rd, she passed. Once the cancer spreads, especially to major organs, there is little chance to make it.
I have been racked with guilt since. That I am better, even if my oncologist told me it will come back, and she did not make it. What right do I have to be better? She was married and had children too. She leaves behind a tormented spouse. She was a wonderful person.
How is that fair?
...Knowing full well what it would feel like, I would gladly take a few more years of treatment and suffering if it could let her live.
And I know it wouldn't work. But if- if.
So what can I do, because I cannot allow myself to do nothing. I run. I raise money to fund the research to end cancer. I want to go one step further than curing the disease. I want to prevent it. Team In Training and all the other programs that are a part of the LLS are trying to do the same. But I found solace in TNT. My teammates lift me and inspire me when I am weak or when I want to give up. My shoes are worn out. It hurts to run. I cannot afford to buy new ones right now but I still put on my shoes and run.
I think it is the only way I feel I am paying penance for getting better. I am trying to help pay for my making it when others have not.
I would dearly love for you to help as well. Please take a minute and donate to the LLS to help end cancer. I try to make it as easy as possible for you to do so. There is a donation tool on the side of my page. Just click and donate.
Thank you.
Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your ears;
I come to bury Cancer, not to praise it.
The evil that men do lives after them;
The good is oft interred with their bones;
So let it be with Cancer...
It is time to take up arms against cancer once more. I am not asking for crazy amounts of donations, though I won't turn them away ;), I am only asking that all that read this donate a minimal $10 to the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society's Team In Training. All you need to do is click on the donation thingy on the right, and donate $10.
It's that simple!!
If you donate only $10, I will surpass my goal for this season in raising money for the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society (LLS). Money raised by the LLS funds research on groundbreaking new treatments for ALL cancers, it supports patients that need help paying bills, it funds outreach programs... It fights cancer! Please take a moment, donate $10, and feel GREAT because you are helping to fight cancer!
That what Team In Training is all about. Fighting cancer! Well, fighting cancer and being awesome! Those are the two things TNT is all about. Okay, fighting cancer, being awesome, and sweating like crazy as we run and run and run. Those are the three thing TNT is all about. ...but nothing else.
Thank you for all your support.
I want to tell a little story about Cheryl, one of the Pac Crest Tri teammates this season (Summer 2014) with Team In Training. In my last season with TNT, I was still going through chemo, and trying to run as best as I could. Some days were great and some days you just can't make yourself do it very well.
As a team, we were running around University of Portland and I was beat. I do not remember how far we had to run that day, maybe 9 miles or something, but I was giving up. I was walking along the route as Cheryl caught up to me. I turned to try cheering her on when without saying anything she grabbed me hand and held on as she kept running. She literally started dragging me along with her. I groaned. I laughed a half laugh half cry, and started running again. I finished the miles that day, thanks to Cheryl. I would have let myself give in, walking back to the aid station then stopping. Because my teammates kept me going, I found the strength and determination to continue.
You may not know it, but there is such strength in you. Both individually and as a team, Team In Training or not. Do not ever doubt your efforts' efficacy. By your presence alone, you give such strength to others. You lift those that are fallen, you strengthen each other, and you drag us along to victory. I cannot thank you enough for all that you do.
Go Team!
Alright party people, and that means you, it’s time to FIGHT CANCER!!
“How?” you might ask. Easy enough. As I begin training to run another half marathon (13.1 miles), I am putting in the sweat and aches and pains and miles… All I ask of you is your sponsorship.
Tomorrow starts what I am calling “$10 Tuesdays!!” For the remaining Tuesdays in February, I ask that all my Facebook friends donate a measly $10 to the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society through my fundraising page
http://pages.teamintraining.org/oswim/anchor14/wryanhatch.
IT’S THAT SIMPLE!! If all of my friends will do this, I will pass my goal for this season. But I promise not to stop there. I have other fundraising ideas and projects because I have been in the chemo chair and I have seen those in the chairs around me. I feel more than lucky to have come out the other side and have made a life goal to help others do the same.
The money raised goes toward finding more cures, more effective medicine, and letting loved ones live another day with their family and friend.
If your heart is so full and you have the means, please feel free to donate more than the $10 I am asking for at this time. If everyone donated just $20, I would double my goal. If your heart is full and you do not have the means, please do what you can even if that is just passing this invite and my fundraising page or my blog along.
With all my heart, I thank you for your support.
-Ryan
My mom posted this yesterday on Facebook. It was very nice of her. And not to be overlooked, she has fought her own fight against cancer. It has not been an easy road for her and she is doing well. It always astounds me how many of us have been affected by cancer, even if that is by relation. Please take a moment, use the widget on the right for Team In Training (TNT) and make a donation to the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society to help fight cancer. Or you can go to my actual TNT donation page and donate there. Your donation goes to help fund research and patient support. Thank you.
Today is 'National Cancer Survivor' day. I want to give a tribute to our son Ryan, who is in remission after battling lymphoma for 3 1/2 years. During that time, he took up running to raise money and run in marathons for the Portland chapter of the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society (LLS). Even when he had pneumonia and was going through chemo, he ran the 1/2 marathons as part of the group 'Team in Training'. He has become a motivational speaker for LLS. His philosophy is that no one goes through cancer alone, and he is there to lift them up and give them a hand when they need it. He is such an example to everyone who faces severe challenges in life. He truly is an amazing 'Cancer Survivor'!
When the doctor tells you you have cancer, it does not seem real. I was shocked and in disbelief, not knowing what to think or how to feel. You look in the mirror. You force yourself to say the words, as if repetition makes it tangible, “...I have cancer.” …None of it makes any sense.
My name is Ryan. I am a cancer survivor! I run for Team In Training.
I was diagnosed in April of 2010. Marginal zone, stage three, Non Hodgkins Lymphoma. Cancer. What I have come to understand is that my cancer was too widespread throughout my body to cut out, and with treatment I could one day hope to reach remission. But I will not be cured. Cancer is something I will have to live with forever. Mine is one that will come back. I will always worry about blood counts. I will always worry about other people being sick around me.
I do not like to dwell on my cancer. Not publicly anyway. Not socially. Cancer is a downer. I try to make people laugh. I like to help people feel empowered. To others it may seem I pretend my cancer does not exist. Good. I try. Maybe I do because others might think their problems are more manageable if they see me doing well. Maybe it's just because I do not like to acknowledge my mortality. ...I don't know why.
If I could do any one thing in this life, I would like to hold people's hands, lift them when they have fallen, encourage them, remind them of the things in this world worth living for. That is the essence of what Team In Training is. For me it is anyway. It champions taking action to end cancer. Team In Training raises money to fund research for cures and supports patients in treatment. More than just cancer though, it is about helping others as it has helped me. Team In Training helped me get through three and a half years of chemo. For that alone, I am forever grateful to TNT. Team In Training became my support group while going through chemo.
As of Sept 26th, my oncologist said I am cancer free! I can get my port taken out! After three and a half years, that is an awesome and humbling thing to hear. During that time, I ran a number of half marathons to raise money for TNT and I am going to run another for all those that need help to fight cancer. And everyone needs help.
I am asking that you please do all you can to support and help the fight against cancer. Any amount is great, every dollar counts.
I thank you with all my heart,
-Ryan
Hello, my name is Ryan. I have cancer. No it’s okay. Really.
But yes I have cancer.
My name is Ryan. I have cancer.
The last time I was an honored patient I did not prepare anything specific for this because I thought, “I have no problem with public speaking. I’ll be fine!” When I got up here I don’t think I could get anything out except tears, and thank yous, and a weak Go Team. That may have been one of the most emotionally draining speeches I have ever given. And it could have been over in less than 60 seconds. Maybe this is less impactful, but I am more prepared.
As you might expect, when a doctor tells you you have a potentially life ending disease, it is all consuming. Your mind is a tornado of emotion with the only consistent thread being the emotional rollercoaster you experience every day. At first, I was numb. Then I was sad, then angry, then confused, then broken, angry, sad, disbelieving, doubtful, angry, scared --and then blank. Because I think when you hit scared, you no longer know what to do or how to feel. You don’t. You look in the mirror. You force yourself to say the words, as if repetition makes it tangible, “...I have cancer. ..I have cancer.” None of it makes any sense.
I tried to keep it secret for a long time. I didn’t want to let anyone know because I felt like people would treat me like a social disease. Like I was contagious. Like I had done something wrong and I deserved this. That’s how I felt about myself. I was ashamed of my cancer. I do not pretend to make excuses for that. That’s just the way it happened. I do not believe I am alone in that.
After my first round of chemo was over, and close to starting the next series, I attended a recruiting meeting for Team In Training. I had a hard time keeping the tears in, or keeping the fear and doubt from showing. After the meeting I called my wife and with desperation in my voice choked out, "I have to do this." Without hesitation, she said ok. I think I needed to prove to myself that I could still be me, that I could still live. I signed up. Having never liked distance running, having never even run a 5K, not knowing if my doctors would let me run. My wife has supported me ever since, running her own TNT races, participating in other LLS events, championing the cause, and holding my hand when I am unsure or scared.
Of course I told my coaches and the LLS staff. I figured they were need-to-know. At my first Kickoff I had to walk out into the hall a couple times because I could not keep from sobbing. When I came back in I grabbed a purple pom-pom from my table and put it on like a wig to cover my face. Eventually my teammates found out. There were days I could not run. Days I felt too sick. Too horrible. Too weak. There were a couple days when I tried to run in spite of getting chemo the day before. Those runs did not go so well. Even when I couldn’t run I went to cheer my teammates on. Being there helped me feel better. It helped me feel like I could make it through treatment. It was empowering when I just wanted to quit. Only in this last year did one of those teammates tell me they could see it on my face in spite of the facade I thought I had well affixed. I didn’t like to talk about it, but I stopped lying about having cancer.
Event weekend for that season, the Seattle Rock and Roll, during the inspiration dinner with my wife by my side, when the speaker asked those having gone through or going through cancer, to please stand, I reluctantly did. I made the mistake of making eye contact with one of my teammates. Our eyes locked for a second then we both quickly looked away as we almost burst into tears. The next day we all lined up in the early hours of the morning. Coach Mike and I traded ringtones, mostly old school Mario Bros sound bites. In spite of the festivities, I was scared. Not just pre race jitters. But scared. Exactly one week before, I was hospitalized with a fever and pneumonia. When I started the season I thought I could do a full marathon, no problem. At the start of that race, I just wanted to cross the finish line -on my own two feet -without being carried. I told one other teammate about the pneumonia. She then refused to leave my side the whole race. When I had to walk, she walked. Then she would tell me to start running again when my needed rest was turning into being lazy. Somewhere around mile 8, I happen to see the back of her shirt. There, in the space where we write the names for whom we run, I saw my name. Surely that must have been someone else. So I asked. "Is that, is that MY name?" Yes. Yes it was. I wanted to cross the finish line on my own feet, but she carried me the rest of the way. She lifted my hand as I crossed the finish line. I got my first medal.
One of my favorite movie quotes of all time is from The Shawshank Redemption. Morgan Freeman's character said, "Get busy livin', or get busy dyin'." The principle is that while we cannot choose what happens to us, we can certainly choose how we react. With a diagnosis of cancer in any stage, the world gives you permission stop living. And you can if you choose. Or you can pick yourself up, shake it off, and move on. That is not to say you will not fall down again. We all fall down. When that inevitably happens, if you look, you will see those around you that clamor to offer the hand to pick you back up.
During my last season, so many miles later and still in chemo, some of my teammates literally pulled me along, grabbing my hand as they passed, forcing me to start running when I was walking. I ran the BMO Vancouver BC Half Marathon with TEAM. At mile four, I realized I was running a little slower than I wanted. By half way, I calculated if I kept on pace I would finish only about 5 or 6 minutes behind what I wanted. That would have been great. Around mile 11, I just about collapsed. I believe I would have, had Coach Kevin not been running with me. I grabbed his shoulder to steady myself, my legs faltered, I was (according to Coach Kevin) very pale, but I carried on. My cancer had gotten the better of me again. Several times over the next two miles I grabbed his arm to keep from falling. I would not have finished that race without him to lean on. That is the spirit of Team In Training.
We lift each other, knowing we will either need that lift someday, or we have already needed that. Through chemo, through fatigue, emotional anguish, and just being a sissy, TNT still lifts me up when I want to quit. TEAM is not about the running or biking. It is realizing we can do something about the situation(s) in which we find ourselves. It would be easy to turn our face to the wall and give up. It would be easy to stay down when knocked over. TNT strives to help people overcome those times when we fall down. And we all fall down. Sometimes we need help. Sometimes it may be as simple as Alfred's reminder to Bruce Wayne. Get up. Yes you can.
I have had the unique opportunity through TNT to reach out to the newly diagnosed or those already in treatment. I have had friends pass, losing their battles with cancer. I have tried to give words of encouragement and thoughts of praise and strength to those in need. One friend was struggling with her own fatigue while in treatment and trying to run a TNT race. She passed shortly after completing her race, with one of her daughters by her side. While you may not be enduring the struggles of treatment, the advice I gave her is just as applicable.
“Accept that races will be hard. Accept that your training runs may be better than your race run. Accept your race is not about a finishing time. It is about crossing the finish line. It is still difficult but I know it is doable. Learn to enjoy each run for it's own unique day. Your race is about celebrating all that you have accomplished over your season.”
For any who run while in treatment, you have both my deepest sympathies and highest praise. You are superheroes. For those of you running in support of another, you have my most sincere gratitude. You may be inclined to think your race unrelated to those struggling with cancer. Do not. Your race tests the limits of both the body and mind just like treatment. More importantly, your race gives hope to those of us that have cancer or have fallen. Just as my wife has done countless times for me, your effort lifts those of us who cannot see the hope of doing it ourselves.
The last [almost] four years have changed me. I try to repay all that you have done for me. I try to lift you up and encourage you. More often the opportunity comes with being able to address groups and talk about my cancer. I have grown to be okay with that. To that fallen TEAMmate, as she fought through her own battles I imparted the wisdom of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. Regardless of the struggles we find ourselves in, remember his words.
“If you can't fly then run, if you can't run then walk, if you can't walk then crawl, but whatever you do you have to keep moving forward.”
It is my hope and prayer that we do that. Let us continue to move forward. Let us help others to do the same. Let us move ever closer toward the finish line of our races. You want to know why I run with Team In Training? Why do I fundraise and sweat and chafe in purple? I do it to try and pay back all who have given so much to me. I do it because I hope that someday modern medicine makes cancer not only completely treatable, but preventable. Cancer should become a shadow of our past. Not our present and every day. Let us cross the finish line of curing cancer. On September 26th, 2013, three years and five months to the day when I was diagnosed, my oncologist told me I was in remission.
I thank you with all my heart for the support and encouragement you did not know you gave and still give to those around you. Now because I feel gangster, my fellow Americans, it is with the utmost pride and sincerity that I present this recording, allow me to reintroduce myself.
My name is Ryan.
I do not have cancer.
Tuesday evening, I found out a friend of mine died. It was rather unexpected. It was very upsetting.
It’s not like we were very close. I had really only known her for a short while. Lisa is a part of my Team In Training (TNT) friends and teammates. She died Tuesday morning, October 29, 2013, and it is assumed it was her cancer that killed her. We all knew she had cancer. That was how she and I became friends. We emailed support, motivation, and questions about running while going through chemo. I promise you, it is one of the most physically difficult things I have ever done. The fatigue is too often literally overwhelming, making you trail off the instant you sit down.
Some days, standing in the living room and feeling the weight of fatigue coming on, knowing there is nothing I can do to fight it, I just gave in. I would lie down right there on the floor and be out for an hour before I could pull myself back to reality. I could have walked upstairs to my bed. I could have walked over to the couch. I didn't care. That kind of exhaustion makes it really difficult to go run. Difficult to feel like you are alive instead of in a half reality, stuck between worlds. Between the living and the dead. Neither completely taking you, neither giving in to the other. Maybe the exhaustion is what finally got Lisa. I don’t know or need to know the actual cause of death. I don’t care. It was cancer.
In the last two weeks of her life, amidst her normal motherly obligations and life, Lisa continued to fight cancer. In her own battle she had visits to the doctor or hospital. In a more public facing effort, she continued with Team In Training. She had been raising money for the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society by preparing to run the San Francisco Nike Women [Half] Marathon with at least one of her daughters.
As she flew to California for the race weekend fun, she doubted herself. Not sure if she could perform well. I reminded her that a finish time was not important. The amount of time she spent in training, the efforts she made to raise money to fight cancer, that she can cross the finish line, these were the victories. She only had 13.1 miles to run or walk until someone gave her a medal to celebrate her accomplishments over such insurmountable obstacles. I told her of all the many people I knew there, some have become my favorite people, I was cheering her on more than any of them. I told her I was thinking about her. I cheered her on because I know what it is like to finish a race while going through chemo. And she did it. She is a hero. That is not diminished by her passing.
How many people can say with their last two weeks of mortality, emotionally wiped and struggling through incredulous physical pain, they ran a half marathon and raised money to fight cancer? To fight the very thing killing her? When I ran the Vancouver BC BMO Marathon earlier this year, in a room or 300+ people, there were four of us that stood when they asked for those currently fighting cancer to stand. Four that were enduring chemo and still going to run the next day. Lisa was that kind of person.
With her sudden passing, many of us were and are grief struck. She seemed to be doing well. She smiled her fantastic, enveloping smile and those around could not help but do the same. As TNT folks, the thing we know best in dealing with frustration and confusion towards cancer is running together. It is, after all, how we all came together to begin with. We gather unshowered in the early morning, share an emotional message, I try to make people laugh because I think that's the best way, we get in real close to each other, put one hand in for a team cheer of "goooOOO TEAM!!" and we run.
Tuesday night, after the kids were down and I was lost in emotion, I put on my purple TEAM shirts. I kept choking back tears as I put on my shoes. I kissed my wife. And I ran. It's the only thing I think we know to do. It's the only tribute that means anything to us.
The purple shirts are our race shirts. On which we write or screen or pin the names of those for whom we run. Some in honor of, some in memory of. They are the uniform of our efforts, motivation, drive, and loved ones.
Lisa, before you ran the Nike Women's, I shared with you a most appropriate quote. “A hero is an ordinary individual who finds the strength to persevere and endure in spite of overwhelming obstacles.” (Christopher Reeves). I echo that again with the sorrow of your passing. Maybe unintentionally, you have held your light high for all to see and follow. You have endured so much, with pain, with agony, and to those of us that knew your struggles, you did so with such admirable strength. You are and always will be a hero.
Tuesday night, I put on my purple shirt. I cried while running. I ran for Lisa.
Well I certainly HOPE so. Brooks has a number of charity organizations with who they have worked in the past, donating either a percentage of sales or products and things. I have reached out to them in an effort to strike up a similar partnership for the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society.
The real nitty gritty of the proposal is that they make a limited edition purple shoe of one of their lines of shoes, and donate a portion of the sales to Team In Training. What would be the coolest ever is if they did one whole month of purple products, shoes, shirts, hats and jacket, and donate from that month's sales. That way customers could buy whatever model shoe they run in (the Ghost for me), or a jacket or something if they prefer a different shoe for running. Everyone can show their TEAM spirit that way.
Well the idea has been officially proposed and I should hear back by mid January. I will post an update about it then.
...Fingers crossed!
A letter to a TNT teammate, Lisa. She asked me how to keep energy up to run after chemo and radiation. I responded:
Lisa,
I am actually glad you asked me about this, though I think it is a difficult thing to compare. I am struggling to respond. Sometimes I think we all understand another's unfortunate plight. Other times I think my struggles were unique to me and I am grateful I did not have to endure all that I have seen another go through without really knowing what it would have been like. Maybe it is easier for you to relate to me, than me to you, as I did not have radiation. But maybe there is just a lot of made up pretense, imagined in my mind. Hmm… Sorry, this is how my brain works. Sometimes over analytic and without reason or justification.
As you are aware, I am sure, I began training for my first half while in treatment. I continued the trend for my second half. And for this last season I was still on "maintenance chemo." I still am. I go in again on Thursday for another dose. With this, I do not get nausea like before but I still feel some fatigue. It is not as strong or lasting, but it is still there. And I still get chemo brain from it.
I do not think there is any "good" advice to give on how to keep up energy levels. Time, effort and patience are the only real answers though they are not what you want to hear. At least not what I want to hear. I had to learn that the first four miles are the hardest. They are for everyone, not just cancer patients. It takes me a couple miles to start feeling warmed up and after four is usually when I feel like I can actually do the distance. As I run, I have found myself chanting a number of different things along the way. Often in the beginning of a longer run I say, "The first four are the hardest. The first four are the hardest. The first four…" On longer sections or up hills, I have said "I am stronger than cancer. I am stronger than cancer." Sometimes I change that to say stronger than chemo.
People ask me how I keep going through it all. Family (I have four kids), work, school, chemo, and still get a run in a few times a week. Borrowing a line from the Grateful Dead, I often say I live on "Vitamin C and Cocaine." Though I have never done drugs, sometimes I feel like a crack junky for caffeine. My dependency on it drives me crazy. It used to be a lot worse. I could not get through a day without multiple energy drinks like Rockstar or Red Bull. If I sat down, I would pass out within minutes. The problem was I knew that even if I let myself take a nap, I would not wake feeling any more rested or with any more energy. I was just awake. In limbo. Like a zombie. Neither dead nor living, incapable of understanding which I was supposed to be.
I do not recommend that path. The Rockstar path is not good for you. But I figure if God saw fit to saddle me with cancer, he must put up with my figuring out how to make it through the day. Rockstars became my crutch. There are multiple problems with that and running, though I don't want to get off on a biology/physiology tangent.
Perhaps the best advice I can give is mental. Push a little longer. Run when you can, walk when you have to, and keep putting one foot forward when you think you can't.
As a very competitive person, and having a trace of my former rugby player ego, I hated seeing my performance as failure. It took me a long time to learn and accept that the race is not about time. It is about crossing the finish line. It is still difficult but I know it is doable.
Accept that races will be hard. That they will be slower than you want. Accept that your training runs may be better than your race run. Learn to enjoy each run for it's own unique day. During this last season, a month before event weekend for me, I had a trial run. I did my 13+ miles starting from OMSI out to Sellwood and back. I averaged about a 9:47 mile. That is the fastest I have ever been. I LOVED it! My race weekend was very different. Were it not for Coach Kevin walking with me for a couple miles, I would not have likely finished. I had to grab onto him to keep from falling. I was not good and I have not recovered. We will see what oncology says in a couple days.
While I am bummed about my race performance, I am okay with it. I accept each run is it's own beast. Post chemo and worse, post radiation, our bodies may ever more piss us off never finding consistency. Never finding predictability except the unpredictability. It's frustrating, but it's better than not running. And I think that becomes the metaphor for life. Run when you can, walk when you have to. Put one foot forward. Push just a little longer.
…And maybe have a little caffeine to help you get started. ;)
-Ryan
Whew! I am back. Well I am physically back in Portland anyway. My brain has yet to accept that. Let me say, every time I go on a Team In Training event weekend, I am blown away at the enduring spirit that is in us all. This race was both a visually beautiful run as we ran through much of downtown Vancouver B.C., winding around and through Stanley Park, and an emotionally beautiful race. I doubt I can remember it all or eloquently describe all that I do remember, but I shall do my best.
During my first TNT race ever, I ran a long while on the course around a couple of girls tethered together. I have mentioned this before. One girl was (is) blind, the other was her guide. The same happened this weekend. And older gentleman, maybe mid 60's, was tethered to a much younger man who was the guide. It the perfect summary of the enduring spirit of compassion in us. It does not matter what our obstacles are, it does not matter if we fail. What matters is that we give everything we can to surmount those obstacles.
My race did not go well. I ran a half marathon which is 13.1 miles (or 21 kilometers, since I was in Canada). In training for this race, I ran that distance or more a few times. The last time, just over a month before race weekend, I started from downtown Portland on the waterfront. I ran my 13 miles with an average pace of 9 minutes and 47 seconds per mile. That is a total of less than 2 hours and 10 minutes for the half marathon. It will not win any races, but it is starting to be a respectable race time. I was so happy with that performance and just wanted to keep about the same for this race. Sadly, I could not deliver this weekend.
At around 4 miles, as we were running through China Town, I realized I was running slow. It took me a bit to be okay with that but I was not far off from my desired target pace. As long as I kept the pace I was at, I would still finish with a time with which I would be happy. At 8 miles, I was still okay. By 10 miles, I tanked. I knew I could not keep it going and questioned if I could run much at all. Maybe around mile 11, another of my coaches saw me.
Let me stop the narrative here. As TNT protocol, coaches are on the course running back and forth to give course support to the TNT participants. When there are enough chapters from all over, it works out really well. Almost every mile, I saw a coach. They all check on us, ask if there is anything we need like a Gu shot or salt or bandaids, etc.. They run with us to cheer us on. They go back to find another and do the same. Most coaches run well over a full marathon in a day doing this. It is amazing.
…And now, back to our story. Coach Kevin saw me at mile 11-ish. He told me later that I scared the sh-- out of him when he saw me because I was completely white. Yes, I am caucasian, but he meant colorless in my face. He walked with me all the way to the "chute" which is the gated area approaching the finishing line. A number of times in that last two miles, I had to grab onto Kevin's arm or should to keep from falling over. My legs would buckle a little. Sometimes I could not feel them at all, and just trusted the natural rhythm of walking to keep them going under me. When he left my side at the chute, and he did not want to but coaches are not allowed to continue beyond there, he waited and watched me to make sure I was still going more straight than weaving side to side.
I made it across the finish line, someone put the finisher's medal over my head, I went straight to my bag which had water and pbjs, then sat down right there on the sidewalk. I recovered well enough to stand then go check in/out at the TNT tent. I had made it. I finished a torturous half marathon.
After I recovered a little, I began walking back along the course. Many of my teammates that had finished were planning on going back to cheers others on, run with them if they could, and hang out. I would find a place along the way to stand and cheer, knowing I could not run with anyone. I stood near the mouth of the chute and cheered runners on, cheering extra for other TNT runners regardless of if I knew them or not. That's just the way TNT works. One woman came close and was arm in arm with a non TNT runner. I was just about to cheer when I realized the TNT runner was carrying the other woman. I left my post, grabbed the unoccupied arm and lifted. Both woman said "Oh thank you!" The woman in the middle, Harriet, called us her two guardian angels. We carried her the rest of the way.
As we got closer, the crowd cheered her on. They were probably cheering us as well. A lot of photographers took our picture. I had recovered quickly and well enough that I had no problems in helping. The mirrored glass buildings towering over us, the crowd cheering, drawing ever closer to the finish line, it was beautiful. The medics met us with a wheel chair just on the other side of the finish line. We got her in the chair, I hugged her, then I walked back to my stuff I left on the ground when I jumped in to help.
From numerous experiences along my journey through the last few years, I can see where others have lifted me when I fall. In turn, one of the few things I wish I could do with my life is to hold people's hands when they fall. To lift them up when they are weak or they fail themselves. I wish to encourage all, and instill in them the magnitude of their self worth. Coach Kevin did that again for me this race. I look forward to never needing the physical hand up again. But I may never stop needing the emotional help up. This time, with this half marathon, I was able to help another so shortly after being helped.
My performance in this race was severely impaired. Stupid cancer. But my performance in this race was everything I really want. I finished the race, and I helped others do the same. So many of my teammates had a hard run for them, not running as well as they would have liked. To each of them, I cannot express my gratitude enough for all they did accomplish out there. As a team, we cheered each other on, we ran with each other, we encouraged others not a part of Team In Training, we lifted those who had fallen.
I believe we are meant to be great. To them, to my teammates, I say you are. You are truly "awesome" people. Thank you for all you have done and continue to do.
Go Team!
Early in the race, we could now see the Vancouver skyline.
Yes, a man in a chicken suit as we cross the finish line.
Team In Training cheering people on. Here Becky (back), Julie (middle) and Christine (front) from the Oregon SW Washington Idaho Montana (OSWIM) chapter.
Front Row: Coach Kevin, Coach Mike, me (Ryan), Julie, Amy,
Second Row: Becky, Matt, Christine, Kayla, Jen, Skye, Erin (LLS Staff), Megan, Coach Michelle,
Third Row: The Photo Bombers doing an Egyptian pose, Krysty, Captain Mike,
And Joe rising above us all.
I wrote a more serious and emotional summary of this weekend's trip to Vancouver which you can read, but I think a Coach Karl style summary is more needed right now. At least for me it is. So I shall do my best to live up to such a lofty goal.
Friday morning, it's still dark when the alarm goes off. Ah crap, what did I agree to? Oh well. Grab my stuff, get in the car, pick up Christine, get to PDX on time. Hey there's Erin! Cool.
Self check in, boarding pass in hand we begin the wait to get through security. Why is there only one lane open? Poorly managed? Okay, time to strip down and go the the metal detector with my bagels that Matt tried to get me to worry about. "They won't let you through with those…" Thanks, Matt.
Through security, clothes back on, bags ready and… wait for Julie to finish her full body cavity search. It's cool, she tipped the TSA for "services rendered." Oh hey, there's Coach Mike! He wasn't at the Starbucks like he promised. It's okay, he's still awesome.
Wander down to the gate. A few others are there too. Time for breakfast. Michelle took pictures. Cap'n Mike is too good for us and does not sit with us until pressured into it. Then he had a big bean breakfast burrito. Glad the Mike's have their own room tonight. "Alaska Airlines Flight 28somethingsomething paging passengers Hatch, Wall, 'Wee-dick' Broshar to the counter for passport verification." Hey where are Skye and Joe anyway? What about Becky and Kevin? Oh Kevin had to work. He might not make it. Whaaaaaaat?! What about Kayla? Oh she is working too but will drive up tonight.
Hey there's Becky. She has shirts. Cool! They stink but man they're pretty. Thank you Becky for getting that together, Michelle for the shirts, Renee for the rush print job and whoever the designer was for some kick ass design work.
"Alaska Airlines Flight 28somethingsomething still paging passengers 'Wee-dick' to the counter for passport verification." Ha, ha! Coach Mike isn't the only one to screw up their name in a sophmorish way. Awesome.
Oh hey, Skye and Joe are here. So is Andy, the Flex Coach. He turned out alright.
"Alaska Airlines Flight 28somethingsomething, now boarding for Vancouver BC."
Wow, this is a small plane. Oh no, Amy has to sit next to me. Poor, poor Amy. Huh, look at that. Erin is all the way in the front of the plane, just about as far away from Coach Mike and I as she could get. Me thinks that was planned. Fasten your seat belts people, we'll make this a bumpy ride. Okay I meant the whole trip but the pilot thought I meant he should make for a bumpy landing. That's alright, we made it. Michelle took pictures. Breathe that fresh Canadian air.
Shuffle, shuffle, bags, shuffle, shuffle, limo. What? You mean you didn't take a limo to your hotel? I just thought that was parr for the course. Sorry Eugene. All loaded up. Who let Skye control the radio? Joe was not happy with her choice of Canadian pop star radio, which none of us knew. Matt loved his limo driver. The guy was super chatty and full of useless info.
Oh nice! The Sheraton! Wow it's pretty. Michelle took pictures. And the weather is cool and clear. So pretty. …Sorry Eugene. Check in, aaaand I got upgraded to a sweet suite. 27th floor. Leather couch. Separate bedroom. Multiple tv's. Fruit plate. Special thank you note from LLS for being a top fundraiser. Freaking amazing view! …Sorry Eugene.
Everyone checks in excluding those arriving later. And Coach Kevin will fly up in the morning. Good! We all really want him there with us.
Group walk to Italian food, my pizza margherita was so good. Hey Matt, how was that $10+ Guinness? He was not the only to get started for the weekend. Pretty sure Michelle took pictures. Okay, now on to the expo. Walking down through Vancouver. It really is a pretty town.
Japadog. Many celebrity in Japadog.
The expo was at the "Canada Place," on Coal Harbor. Michelle took pictures. Sign the medical waiver provided by the country of Canada and some Joe Schmoe Doctor. Bib's, bags, shirts, souvenir shirts/hats/jackets to prove we were there. Normal expo stuff.
Whew. Done with that. Waiting outside for everyone. Apparently, they were waiting inside for us. Regrouped and walk back to the hotel. Stop along the way at the IGA for copious amounts of coconut water and whatever else people needed. Loaf of bread and PBJ for me, thanks.
Back to the hotel, to my 27th floor suite. Got everything put away and fell asleep on the couch until Matt called and offered my a massage. It was time to meet up for dinner anyway. Regrouped in the lobby waited for Michelle who forgot something in her room, then made off with our tour guide Coach Mike. He was pretty awesome about setting up reservations at Yaletown. It was good food. Hockey game. More drinking for people, and Michelle took pictures. From there we went to a gelateria. Hockey game in every window along the way.
Matt found a free newspaper for Mike, either one, Michelle did NOT take pictures. Coach Mike gave it to Becky to give to Kevin. But then he left it for the kiddies in the ice cream shop. Silly Mike. Walking back, hey look! $0.25 peep shows! One of the mannequins just about poked Erin's eye out. Sheesh!
Some may have gone back out after the group got home. They must have because somehow Mike and Mike ended up sharing a bed. All I know is there was snoring, then punching, then no snoring and Kayla was there. Oh hey! Kayla and entourage are here! So is Kevin! Nice. Now time for breakfast. Wait, is Michelle here yet? Okay, here she comes. Tour Guide Mike? If you would please. Thank you.
The Elbow Room. What the-! "Big Ass Pancake" may have actually fallen short in describing what was served. I ate half and wish I had stopped earlier. Behold, the new sport of "Extreme Carb Loading." Michelle took pictures. Time to break up the band. Coaches and Staff have their meeting so we plan on meeting in the lobby about 5:15. I did a little shopping on Robison, then slept for 2 hours.
Time for the Inspiration Dinner. Put on the OSWIM BMO shirts. We look gooood!! Enter the building and follow the noise. Kayla didn't know that was for us. Oh yes. Yes it is. And it will be awesome. Down the escalator to reveal Coach Mike holding, oh wait, ooooooohh nnoooooo. Erin was right. I should never have sent her that picture of me when I was bald with Photoshoped pig tails. It was creepy. I will get you Erin. I don't know how or when, but I will. And it will be awe- wait for it -some!
Dinner was good. According to Matt, worlds better than the TEAM dinner in Paris. …That freaking picture of me just will not go away. It's a big group of TNTers, and now speakers. Presentation of the top fundraisers. They gave us these little glass statues of Inuksuk, the logo used for the Olympic games there. Matt too pictures of me as a keynote speaker. Now to the real speaker. Man, no matter how many times I have done this, I still get teary.
Dinner is done. Inspirational words from coaches and mentors. You have to expect that Michelle is taking pictures. And 20 cameras and phones later, we head outside …for MORE photos. This time in front of the fountain dyed purplish for us. Sure it was. Uh-huh. Photobombers went all Egyption on us. Then I paid it forward on the Coaches photo op. :)
Okay, everyone go back to your room and go straight to bed to be well rested for tomorrow. That or head to an Irish pub down the street. A different kind of carb loading ensued. And I had more Diet Coke. But don't worry, Michelle took pictures. Because it was awesome.
Now for real, go home and go to sleep. Someone went a little Buddy the Elf on the elevator buttons. Not sayin' who, but I had to apologize to the two guys that were not with our group. Make sure everything is ready for tomorrow then crawl in bed. JUMP out of bed when the alarm went off. Gather in the lobby. Now in race attire, photo op. Wait, is Michelle down yet? More photo's. On to the train. off the train and walk like a pilgrim across the plains to the start area. Holy freaking bathroom lines Batman!
Sing Oh Canada, then run. Downhill, more downhill, Erin! OW! Her staff friend cut me! There's Michelle! She took pictures! Cross a bridge, run around, enter Chinatown, see a strung out hooker on the sideline, leave Chinatown, running kind of slow but still ok, there's Kevin! Run past Yaletown, start to hit the coastline, hey there's Coach Mike! Half way (for the half), into Stanley Park, over the river and through the woods, Captain Mike caught me, we didn't talk much, Captain Mike left me, it's cool, sea wall in Coal Harbor, holy sh-- I don't think I can run anymore, hey there's Kevin! He's looking at me funny. I don't feel very good. He walked with me to the final chute. I couldn't feel my legs, I grabbed onto Kevin more than once, I made it across the finish line! Bag check, sit down and recover.
Christine and a few others checked on me then headed back out for course support.
...recover ...more.
...
...okay, I think I can stand now. Check out at the TNT tent, start walking back. Hey there's Michelle! We walk a bit then see Christine running with Kayla. Hooray for Kayla! She rocked it. Christine and Michelle switch, Michelle with Kayla and Christine with me. We go back to the 20k/41k marker. Cheer on everyone, especially all TNT peeps and the Japanese because they were awesome! There's Skye! YEAH!! She looked awesome! Matt had been running with people. He stayed to cheer. Superman passed us, really not looking very super. Barney the dinosaur passed us. We stayed for Megan. Our last OSWIM teammate. She was awesome! We all walked up with her into the chute. She ran the last bit. It was truly amazing to see her surrounded by so many coaches and teammates in support approaching the finish. A beautiful reminder of just how tight and supportive this team was. I loved it.
Coaches went back to do the same for the last of the other TNT peeps. …Because they are awesome.
Clean up fast and head out to Doolin's to celebrate. It did not take long. Kevin was so glad to see me. He told me I scared the sh-- out of him on the course. There was more hockey, a kick ass burger (for me), dancing girls -not that kind Cap'n Mike. Sheesh. Jill got pressured into Nike Women's, she gave the high five of committal, Coach Mike told me he did not want me on the team, he said I am just too much awesome to have another season this year with me. Maybe he fears his head exploding. More drinks, more Diet Coke for me. Michelle took pictures. Sara and Alfredo made for good company, even though he is not really an attorney. Cap'n Mike tells us the ins and outs of cross state border high speed chases. And exit in search of margaritas since it was Cinco de Mayo.
There was promise of ice cream. Bait and switch I say. Waffles and ice cream, just an easy 5k walk away. Only to be denied. …awesome. I crashed. 9 hours of solid sleep. Beautiful. Shower real fast then meet up for breakfast of crepes. Wait for Michelle to grab whatever she forgot in her room. We applauded upon her arrival. Back to Robison to Cafe Crepe. Thank you for indulging me. Go our separate ways before check out.
Check out and our limo driver drove like he could not get us out of the car fast enough. But yeah, it was still a limo. Sorry Eug--
With a couple hours to kill at the airport, time for lunch and last minute duty free shopping that cost an arm. They said our legs were useless and refused them as payment. Check in, board sit down and sleep. It's a short flight. The landing was far better. Holy crap it is hot in Portland! Kevin met us at PDX. We said our goodbyes. Many of this team is doing Nike so they will see each other in a couple weeks anyway. Kind of wish I was going to do that too.
But I'm not worried. Michelle will take pictures.
It will be …awesome.
Alright everyone, this is my LAST PUSH to raise money for the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society this season. Right now through Friday, you can fight cancer. If you wanted to donate earlier but forgot, or if you just feel you need to donate again, NOW IS THE TIME! Every dollar counts and is greatly appreciated.
I leave Friday morning to run the race for which I have been training and raising money. The LLS raises money for all types of cancer research and treatment, because no one should ever have to go through heart ache of losing a loved on to cancer. And even closer to my heart, no one should ever have to go through the torment of treatment. I promise you, it is horrible.
I look forward to finally being done with chemo this fall, but mine is a cancer that will come back. I hope, through your generous support and donations, that doctors find a cure for me before that time comes.
If you can, even $5 makes a huge difference. Please, I am begging, please go to my donation page www.ryanfightscancer.com, or click on the donation widget on this page and donate what you can. Ask your friends (real or online friends) to do the same. Just because they may not know me does not mean they have not been affected by cancer.
With all my heart, I thank you for your support.
-Ryan
Three years ago today, I was told I have cancer. It was a difficult day to say the least. But I am still kicking, and forever grateful for the friends I have made. Thank you Mandy. Thank you Mom and Dad. Thank you all. Thank you TEAM.
And because Johnny said it well, "Ain't no grave can hold my body down,"
Unknown to me, Mandy had hit up just about all my closer friends and family that she knew to ask them to say something to me. It made for a rather emotional day. I was very touched and grateful for all the messages. I have the best wife. :)
Maegan Stoddard: "You are so awesome! Happy you're here! Love you guys!"
Pam Lyman: "To our dear friend Ryan who is a survivor, artist, thinker, make me laugh at inappropriate times during church, great dad, and married to one of the best women I know-Mandy Marie, we love you!"
Mom: "Well you are absolutley classified as one of my heroes in life, not just my kid! Thanks for the great excample, advice, support, and showing all of us just how to get on with life amidst great trials. You are truly amazing. Love you beyond words."
Heather Dallmann: "I didn't have the honor of knowing the man you were three years ago but I am blessed to know the man you are today. Goofy as ever and I love it! Seriously you are one of the coolest guys I know and I dig your family too :)"
Kristi Slaton: "I just wanted to let you know how much we love you. I am so glad that my sister chose such a STUD to be her eternal companion. I am even more glad that your studliness & perseverance helped you kick cancer's butt. You are my hero! Have the best day! Can't wait to see you in June!"
Chuck Jones: "Ry, Just wanted to say how happy we are that you are winning your fight. I know it hasn't been easy, but I can't tell you how glad I am that you are still around. You're and amazing guy with an amazing family. Wish we were closer so we could hang out more. And now this: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=M912EcPDrKM" [... which I will not link because it is Bette Midler]
Briggette: "Hey Ryan! Just thinking about ya today. I'm glad you are HERE! I'll never forget three years ago when my mom told me you had cancer. I had the biggest pit in my stomach. I'm so grateful you never gave up. You are an inspiration Ryan!! Hope you have an AMAZING day LIVING. ♥"
Jeremy Sherwood: "I hear 3 years ago you got hit with cancer.. I'm glad you are here. (In case you were wondering you have a great wife.)"
Shannon Valdivia: "Mom and I want you to know that we are so proud of you and how you are fighting NHL...Your optimism keeps us pluggin! We love ya guy!"
Laura Robinson (TNT): "SO lucky to have you in my life. Love you, Ryan!"
Sarah Waddell (TNT): "You are so inspiring to me! Thank you!"
Madelyn Tobin-Shubin (TNT): "Hey, did I ever mention how awesome you are? Because you are! Keep up the good fight!"
Josh Anderson: "Hey Ryan - Can't believe that 3 years ago you were diagnosed with cancer. Just want to you to know what an inspiration you are. I don't ever remember once hearing you complain about something so life changing and debilitating. Being in pharmacy school and understanding better what chemo drugs actually do to your body, you have EVERY reason to complain but never heard it once from you....or your wife for that matter. I am a better person for knowing you and your family. You are a WARRIOR in every sense of the word and I know you will continue to battle for years to come. We miss you guys and hopefully can reunite in the future."
Crystal: "Whoohoo! 3 years! Your an inspiration Ryan. Here's to many many more 3 years!! Take a hike cancer!"
Dad: "Wow, Three years ago today. You have been a champion in so many ways since. I am impressed with the strength and determination you have shown. You have literally been "Forged in the furnace of affliction". I am proud of you, of the man you have become and of all you do to help others with the same cancer problems."
Heather Vance Allen: "You're a fighter!! So happy you're here to live to tell. Hope we can run a race together sometime. I think you're pretty awesome. ~ heath"
Stephanie: "Hey, Kid. Congrats on toughing out the cancer and beating it back for three years! Thanks for living through it, since I love having you around. You are wonderful. And almost as amazing as Mandy. ♥"
Sara:
I will never forget this day 3 years ago that I found out you had cancer. You have come so far and have fought so hard. I am so proud of all your achievements with LLS and running to save lives, including your own. You truly are amazing!! I love you and am so grateful you are here today.
Sandra Allen: "So I know you prefer the cartoon super hero types but I just wanted you to know that you are on my list of real life super heroes. You have been battling the "attack of the evil C" for three years with courage, unfailing optimism, crazy humor, unyielding strength and unlimited faith. Your trusty sidekick and partner always has your back through thick and thin (plus she's the cutest sidekick EVER). I want you to know I'm so proud of my "favorite" son-in-law. My life's so much better since you entered it. Keep up the good fight. XOXOXO"
But perhaps my favorite of all these was from Brittani Stevens: "suck it cancer"
As I continue to be a part of the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society's Team In Training program, or TNT, some of my teammates this season trained for the Paris marathon. Just before they left, as a way to cheer them on, I put this together. The images were all found online. I Photoshoped them (color, size, blur, paint, etc.) together to make it work.
My dear Parisians,
I would like to take a moment and thank you for all you do. For all you have done. And for all we have yet to do together. Many of you were around a couple years ago when I signed up with Team In Training for my first event. I don't think I can adequately describe how important you have been in my life. Nor can I thank you enough for all that you have done for me.
When I attended my first recruitment meeting, I just about to start another series of chemo treatments, and I was a mess. I did not know what was going to happen to me. I did not know what to do. That feeling of living on an emotional precipice was torture. I had a hard time holding back the tears at that meeting. At the end of that, I knew if nothing else, I needed to sign up and do everything I could to make it across the finish line. Somehow, that was the figurative manifestation of being able to make it through the trial of my treatment and recovery. It was Cap'n Lindsey Niemeyer that handed me my paperwork. When she saw I put myself down as the connection to cancer, she asked me if I was a Survivor. I said, “Well, not yet.” At the Kickoff, I did not fair so well. I had to excuse myself and walked out into the hall. I could not keep from breaking down sobbing.
My first training day, we were moving in a circle and introducing ourselves. “Hello. My name is _____. I am doing TNT because _____.” I hated that. Actually, I never got comfortable with that. I was ashamed of my cancer. I felt like others would treat me different if they knew. Like I was undeserving of their casual acquaintance. Or treat me as if I were a social disease. When people asked me how I was connected to cancer, or why I was doing TNT, I wanted to fight them. I hope that did not come out. At the end of that season, race weekend, my life was changed.
I ran the Seattle RnR half. One month before the race, I finished that round of chemo. One week before, I was in the ER with pneumonia. When I started that race, I just wanted to cross the finish line on my own feet. No one carrying me. No dieing. About mile eight, I happened to see the back on my TNT teammate's shirt. My name was there. Surely that must have been another Ryan. I asked. Is that my name? Yes.
I was carried the next five miles. She lifted my hand as I crossed the finish line. Many of my Seattle teammates had put my name on their shirt's. I had no idea. You guys have lifted me ever since.
Through chemo, fatigue, emotional anguish, and just being a sissy, you guys still lift me up when I want to quit. Even this season, so many miles later, some of you have literally pulled me along, not letting go of my hand as you pass me and forcing me to start running again.
I would love to go to Paris and cheer you all on. There is nothing better than seeing you guys when I am out running. When you are there and running and tired, think of me and push a little longer. When you want to walk, think of me and keep going. When you hit that mental wall and want to fight with or scream at someone, well then you should think of Coach Mike. :)
I have told some of you that one of the few things I wish I could do with my life is to hold people's hands when they fall. To lift them up when they are weak or they fail themselves. I wish to encourage all, and instill in them the magnitude of their self worth. I believe we are meant to be great. And you my friends and teammates, have done that countless times for me. It has been my great honor and privilege to know you, run with you and call you friends.
You are all amazing! Thank you for all you have done and for all you have yet to do.
Good luck in Paris. Go Team.
-Ryan
First let me say thank you to everyone that participated in the art auction, both purchasing or donating. I would like to address that more fully, but something else is on my mind right now.
A friend of mine just posted that a friend of hers just died of cancer today. I have been doing this for just about three years now. Any time I hear or read something like this, I am at a loss for what to say. And I can say a lot. But sometimes words just fail me.
I want to do something. Anything. Rally the troops... I just want to give people a hug.
Working with a local company for a charity fundraiser in the last few weeks, I was asked to write up a short introduction about who I am and my experience with Team In Training. This is what I sent them.
When the doctor tells you you have cancer, it does not seem real. I was shocked and in disbelief, not knowing what to think or how to feel. You look in the mirror. You force yourself to say the words, as if repetition makes it tangible, “...I have cancer.” …None of it makes any sense.
Hello. My name is Ryan. I am a cancer survivor. Well, I think... Hm. I am a cancer... mitigator? Delayer of cancer? I am a cancer ...temporary reprieve-er.
I was diagnosed in April of 2010. Marginal zone, stage three, Non Hodgkins Lymphoma. Cancer. Too wide spread throughout my body to be cut out. In November of that same year, and just as I was starting another round of chemo, I attended my first Team In Training meeting. Team In Training, or TEAM or TNT, is the fundraising arm of the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society (LLS). They do endurance events like marathons, half marathons, triathlons, etc. all to raise money for cancer research and treatment. The meeting was an informational recruiting meeting. It was in a pub and there was a good amount of people there. They spoke a little about the nuts and bolts of TNT and LLS. They had a participant and cancer survivor talk as well. I had a hard time keeping the tears from falling, and the fear and doubt from showing. After the meeting I called my wife and choked out, "I have to do this." Without hesitation, she said ok. I think I needed to prove to myself that I could still be me, that I could still live. I signed up having never liked distance running, having never even run a 5K, and not knowing if my doctors would let me.
My oncologist conditionally gave approval for my running a half marathon (13.1 miles) only if I was willing to walk when needed. He would not approve a full marathon. I promised. During training for my first half marathon, I was going through rounds of treatment. I had my long day on Thursdays (5+ hours), then a short day on Friday, then we had our group run on Saturdays. The Saturday group runs became my support group. Being there helped me feel better. It helped me feel like I could make it through treatment. It was empowering when I just wanted to quit.
When I began the season, I thought with my former rugby player ego, "Shoot! I can run a full marathon. Cancer won't stop me." I had finished another round of chemo by about a month, and literally one week before the race I was hospitalized with pneumonia. By the time I got to the starting line of the Seattle Rock and Roll Marathon (2011), I just wanted to cross the finish line on my own feet, without dying.
That weekend changed my life.
One of my teammates ran with me the whole way. I don't remember exactly where, but about mile 7 or 8, I happened to look down at the back of her race shirt. There is a place on the back of all TEAM shirts to write in the names of those for whom you run, those that keep you going, those you remember. I saw my name there. My name on her shirt. Surely that must have been someone else. So I asked. "Is that, is that MY name?" Yes. I still get choked up over that. That I could have such an impact on another in a positive way. It is a powerful thing. I found out later several of my teammates that weekend had done the same. I had no idea.
I went through two years of chemo therapy. While going through treatment, I got sick. I lost my hair. I lost liters of blood. I had trips to the ER. Emotionally and physically, I was worn out. I was a wreck. I am now considered to be in remission. My tests results "show no sign of the disease." What does that mean? I still have to go in for treatment. It's a very light dose once every two months. It's still no “treat.” This process has proved to significantly delay the eventual return of cancer. Yes, eventual. It will return. So am I a survivor?
I am a survivor of multiple half marathons while going through rounds and rounds of chemo. I am member of Team In Training. I do it because I hope that someday cancer is forgotten. That modern medicine renders cancer not only completely treatable, but preventable. Cancer should become a shadow of our past.
Team In Training and the LLS are not just about running to me. They are about realizing we can do something about the situation(s) in which we find ourselves. It would be easy to turn our face to the wall and give up. It would be easy to stay down when knocked over. But the LLS strives to help people overcome those times. "Why do we fall sir? So we might learn to pick ourselves up." Sometimes we need help. Sometimes it may be as simple as Alfred's reminder to Bruce. Get up. Yes you can.
You can learn about the advances that the LLS has funded. Drugs that have been developed using the money the LLS raises. Cancers that are treated because of those efforts. Maybe more important than that, to me anyway, is the lesson the LLS gives us all. It is about getting up when we fall down. It is about helping others to do the same. It is about how we can overcome the emotional tides that affects us all.
Cancer is something I will have to live with forever. Mine is one that will come back. I will always worry about blood counts. I will always worry about other people being sick around me. But if I could do any one thing in this life, I would like to hold people's hands, lift them when they have fallen, encourage them, remind them of the things in this world worth living for, remind them of the brilliant person they are.
My teammates got me through it all. They still do. I know I can never repay them for what they have done to keep me going. I just hope I can pay it forward. Cancer has changed me. I am a part of Team In Training. I am a part of the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society. I will be forever.
I thank you with all my heart.
GO TEAM!!
-Ryan
Shortly after I started running with Team In Training, I was thinking about ideas for fundraising and thought I wanted to do an art sale in some form. But I did not know how to go about it, worrying about the logistics. The idea was tabled in hopes of figuring it out later. Well now is later. Three years later.
The idea had been ever present in my mind. One of those that always sits on the back burner and never lets you forget about it. Finally I gave in. I thought about how I could make it work. This is my result.
In a few short weeks, maybe less, I will get an eBay page set up for an art auction. I contacted a number of artists, mostly I knew from art school. Some were just wild shot's in the dark. No way these guys would even respond. I am quite pleased to say that some of the big time artists responded and are participating too. How cool is that?!
The eBay site will sell prints of original works by each artist. There will be only two prints available of each piece, and 8x10 and 11x14 inch print. The auction functions like normal, you may bid higher and higher to be the highest bidder before the closing date/time for the auction. Following the conclusion of the auction, I will ship the print(s) to the highest bidders with a charity donation receipt and a thank you. Your donation/purchase will be of course applied to the Team In Training account I am using this season to raise money for the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society.
Artists have already started sending in work for this and I am blown away by their response. If this works out as well as I think it is going to, this will become an anual event. Hopefully getting bigger every year.
Some of the big artists that have already committed and/or sent prints include Peter deSeve, Lee White, and Josh Cochran.
This image is one of mine and is from a children's book I am working on. Therefore, it will NOT be auctioned off at this time. But I wanted to give an idea of what might be in the auction. There is no theme, pieces are whatever the artist wishes to submit. When I get a full or final list of participating artists this year, I will post that as well.
For now, I would love for everyone to pass this along and help generate as much hype as possible.
Thank you very much,
-Ryan
