Rejoice in the beautiful game

World Cup fever has struck around our house for the past 10 days. I have watched as many games as possible, sometimes altering schedules so we can be home to watch, while trying to maintain some semblance of normal life. I just love watching it all. The excitement of the fans, the amazing skill level, the national pride. I can do without the intentional dives and the flagrant fouls, but I guess that is part of the game, too, although I am glad FIFA is trying to eliminate some of the garbage out there. I found myself home alone screaming the other day when the U.S. scored the second goal to tie the game against Slovenia. We have been trying to get the kids excited about it, too. It can be a hard game to follow on TV, but when played well, it really is a beautiful sport. It's been exciting so far, and we are gearing up for the US-Algeria showdown tomorrow morning. Good thing today is the last day of school. Breakfast at World Cup for our house tomorrow!

I grew up playing soccer. We played year round, indoor and outdoor, school and recreation. All of my siblings played and it was our family game. There were a few years on Thanksgiving that we'd gather our visiting family members and neighbors and friends and "play" while the turkey was cooking. The rules may have been a little different in those games and may have involved full body tackling, but the idea was the same. It was something that brought us all together. A bond that we all shared. We played in the yard, on the beach, in the house. Wherever there was a ball.

Way back in 4th grade, I remember my parents telling me they had signed me up to play soccer when we moved to Signal Mountain, TN from New York. I didn't want to do it. I didn't know if I would be good enough, and I didn't know anyone else. I was a kid (and am an adult, too) that doesn't like the unexpected. Despite enjoying kicking around a soccer ball at home, I was absolutely positive that playing organized soccer was not for me. My parents, who were all the wiser at the time, made me do it because they knew it would be a good way to meet people and to help make the transition easier. And they were right. Some of my strongest and most meaningful friendships were formed on the soccer field. As my early teammates and I grew older and went off to different high schools, we often played against each other, but the camaraderie of having once been teammates always remained. And in the off season from school, we often found ourselves again dressed in the same uniform playing together again. Always teammates.

So, I've been thinking, as I sometimes do when I am trying to make some order of chaos, about these teams and teammates, and the World Cup, and how it relates to our lives today. And I have zeroed in on the idea of the team, and how we all form our own team to help get through our lives. We build a team of players just as a world class soccer team is built, everyone with their own talents to offer, their own roles and jobs, that when all put together, help to bring about success. Every team has a philosophy, a way to manage their play. Some people push hard on offense, others rely more on defense. Each time has a different lineup, and plays the field in their own unique way. Plans can vary depending on the day or situation or the team you are facing. Each team is built with players that fit the ideals of the entire team. You want your team to be made up of selfless players, those who realize the end goal is the team's goal. You admire the variety of skill and level of play each player brings to the field. You try to eliminate the actors, those who throw themselves around for the drama and attention. You find that some players come, play a game or two and move on in an effort to find their best team or a team that is a better fit for their style of play. A core group always remains. Those you trust, those you believe in, those who will drop back and cover.

And as I get older, I have found that the playing field is sometimes quality and other times a little muddy and rocky. The play of game, as with life, is influenced by so many extraneous factors, but you have to keep right on playing. In fact, one of most favorite times to play soccer was in the pouring rain, in piles of mud. Yucking it up with your teammates, covered from head to toe in mud and loving every minute of it. No matter what the circumstances, the team, your team, that you have built over the years, is always standing by ready to play.

My sister, Mary, is supposed to undergo surgery on Thursday where they hope to remove a tumor in her abdomen. They aren't sure they'll be able to do it, and the outcome of the surgery will affect her progress in a clinical trial at the National Cancer Institute at NIH. Please keep Mary in your thoughts and prayers this week. She deserves a break in the right direction.

Be good. Be strong. Go USA!

P.S. The picture is from my junior year of high school when our team won the TN State Championship. Go Irish!

Float!

Back in February, we took the kids out to California for school vacation with another family, We rented a house about 45 minutes north of San Diego and flew out there with little planned, only to get to the San Diego Zoo and Legoland. We would plan our days when we got there based on the weather, mood, and level of exhaustion each morning.

For many, many reasons, it was a great trip. We had great travel partners, no expectations to be anywhere or do anything, kids that enjoyed being with each other, lots of laughs, good food, tasty margaritas, plentiful sunshine, and an escape from the New England winter, among other things. It was exactly what we needed.

And why I am thinking about that today, four months later. Actually, I think about the trip a lot, and one particular exchange between the moms the day before we were leaving. We went down the Scripps Aquarium at UCSD in La Jolla, and the two of us found ourselves transfixed by the tank with hundreds of tiny moon jellies. The jellyfish were fluid, tranquil, effortless in that tank. It was almost hypnotic to watch them floating weightlessly around the tank. She looked at me and said that she was going to remind herself of the peacefulness and ease at which the jellyfish were moving through the water the next day when we had to get up at 3:30 a.m. and drive to LA to catch our flight home (where it was snowing). And we did as as we waited line to get through security with six kids, six backpacks, two suitcases, a stroller, accidentally hidden bottles of contraband water, shoes that needed to be taken off and retied, and complaints of thirst and hunger, Remember the jelly fish. And I have many days since then. Like when I heard the new treatment plan for my sister. More simply, when in the checkout line at Market Basket or sitting in traffic with someone behind you that won't stop honking his horn. When trying to deal rationally with irrational people, or to make sense of difficult situations. Become one with the jellies and float!

Warning: I've found in the past couple of weeks that too much "jelly fish living" makes for piles of papers and junk all over the kitchen counters and a list of things to do that is never ending, and "floating through the days without purpose" mentality should be somewhat limited to times of stress and not all day long. It's a relaxation strategy that works best during the times when patience and tolerance seems to be slipping away! Make like a jellyfish and float. Relax. Just let it go.

Living Proof

With the marathon having come and gone, I've sat down to write on a few occasions, but for various reasons, I haven't been able to finish a new posting. I used to do a lot of thinking while on my long runs, and I haven't done any big runs so my "thinking" has been a bit absent. Or lacking focus. The weather has been pretty good so I haven't been able to complain about that, either. It's a crazy time of year with sports and school, too, so finding the right time to sit down and concentrate has been absent, too. This past weekend, however, has given me reason to write.

We gathered this past weekend to ride in the Brain Tumor Ride for Research for the 6th year. My brother, John, started our team in 2005 when 6 of us gathered to ride. We've come back every year since, and to date, have raised over $115,000 to the National Brain Tumor Society to fund research and patient programs. This year, the ride was a bittersweet occasion in that May 16 marked the one year "anniversary" of John's death. While John was on our minds and in our hearts, riding for he and Molly felt like the right thing to be doing on that day. In some way, at least for me, it made that "anniversary" a little easier to be participating in a cause that John and Molly felt to be important.

The other important lesson I took from the weekend was from my sister, Mary, who hopped on a bike and finished the ride when she had every good reason to kick back and take it easy. After 2 years of ongoing treatment which includes a total hip replacement, Mary did not shrink from participating in the ride this year. She had been training for this weekend for the past couple of months, even while feeling terrible from her treatment. She did not hesitate get up here and participate on Sunday morning, and she banged out the miles without a problem and without a complaint.

Mary was last here in April when she was kind enough and thoughtful enough to make a quick trip to support me during the marathon, and then head right out of town to get to Nashville for her appointments. She had follow-up scans in Nashville to see how her current treatment was going. Unfortunately, she heard the dreaded "progression of disease" talk from them and was taken off the treatment. With some guidance and a lot of independent research, Mary set out to explore the various options out there. The long and short of it is that she recently found out that she is eligible for a treatment at the National Cancer Institute, which is part of the National Institutes of Health in Bethesda, MD. She had to have blood work and scans to see if she met the criteria to participate, and she is. The waiting game, 4 weeks later, continues as she waits to hear when she can get up there and get rolling.

And so, seeing Mary, without hesitation, get back up to Boston and finish the ride again this year is humbling. Mary did this because she believes in the research, she believes in the cause, she believes in our family, and she believes in herself. Mary was one of those people that I wrote about after the marathon....the "Living Proof" team members who are cancer survivors or current patients that are out there walking the walk. She raised over $6000 independently, too, and was the top fundraiser on our team by a long shot. And she does all of this research and training and healing all while keeping up with a full-time job, and devoting a lot of energy to being an amazing friend, sister, and daughter on top of it all. Without complaint. Her attitude and behavior is the epitome of inspiring. It reminds us to do what we can to make positive changes, and to get up each day, no matter what the circumstances, and keep moving forward.

Mary, this weekend and every day, reminds me of what it means to Be good. Be strong.

The finish line

Well, the 114th running of the Boston Marathon is in the books. I finished in 4 hours and 10 minutes, and was running when I crossed the finish line. It wasn't my best running day ever, but it was definitely one of my best days ever. Even though I didn't feel great, every mile was worth it.

It turned out to be a beautiful day. We had a really ugly weekend filled with rain, some sleet, and really cold temperatures. If the marathon had been held on Saturday, it would not have been pretty. But, it cleared out for the start, and the temperature, in the 50s, was just right for running.

I took a bus sponsored by a local running club from a nearby parking lot right to the Athlete's Village in Hopkinton. It took about 2 hours to get out there from here with traffic and road closures. I sat with a woman who I recently met who was running Boston as her first marathon ever. She started running about a year ago. She has 4 kids under the age of 8, too, which makes this feat even that much more admirable. What an impressive goal, one that she accomplished, too!! It was nice to have a friendly face to chat with to make the time pass quickly.

Upon arriving in Hopkinton, I bolted for the Dana-Farber Marathon Challenge pre-race haven in Hopkinton. A local church hall is set up as a refuge for pre-race with food, sunscreen, vaseline, water/gatorade, and many friendly faces. There are between 500-550 DFMC runners, and it is a sight to be seen in and around that church on Marathon Monday. We gather for a team photo before the start. After the team picture, they asked the "Living Proof" teammates to come up front for a photo. This year, there were 26 runners who are either cancer survivors or current cancer patients. They got a huge round of well-deserved applause from their teammates. What an impressive and emotional sight.

We milled around a little bit more, and then it was time to head down to be corralled for the start. They were set up for 27000 runners, and you gather in groups of 1000. Right before the start, they drop the ropes that divide the groups, and you all merge into a pack as you move towards the start. It took us about 8 minutes from where we were to get across the starting line. And we were off. Tens of thousands of people pounding the pavement towards Boston.

I knew early on that my time goal was out the window. I think deep down I knew that before I started, but had some hope that I would feel terrific after 3 weeks of rest and would be able to bounce happily towards the finish line on fresh legs. No such luck. By ten miles in, my legs were heavy and tired and I was just hoping to make it to the end. I saw some wonderful friends around the halfway point, and a quick hug and lots of smiles and cheers gave me the push I need to move on down the road. My husband, kids, sisters, aunt, cousin and neighbors were there to tell me that I was doing great and to just keep going. It was what I need to hear. By the time I saw them at around 15 miles, my legs felt like they should when I have only two or three miles left. Unfortunately, I had 11 to go. I handed over my watch to them so I would stop worrying about my pace, and just run based on how I felt. They were going to meet me about 6 or 7 miles down the road, and I needed that incentive to keep on moving.

By the time I got to mile 17, I was breaking the course down into smaller segments. Get to the next water stop. Look for the our friends at the Woodland T stop. Just get to the next hill. Another water stop ahead. Run past the Boston College crowd so they don't harass you. Run until you see the Citgo sign. Find your family again with the 23 mile marker within sight. Get a hug and some inspiration. Only 3 to go. The Dana-Farber group has a cheering crowd at the 25 mile point, and that became my next goal. The patient partners (pediatric patients who are matched up with runners) and their families are all there. I ran along next to them, giving them high fives and some cheers for being out there. I missed this last year. I didn't know exactly where they were and I was on the wrong side of the street at the time. I really wanted to feel their energy and support this year, and I am so glad I did. Only 1.2 miles left. Under Mass. Ave, right on Hereford, left on Boylston and you can see the end. .2 miles to the finish line. Right foot, left foot, right foot, left foot. And then I was finished.

The crowds were terrific and huge and loud and encouraging and inspiring. Too many Dana-Farber Marathon Challenge signs to count. So many cheers of "Go Dana-Farber" and "Thank you Dana-Farber" along the entire route, in every town and throughout every mile. The thousands of other runners keep you going, too. There was a man that pushes himself backward with one leg in a wheelchair. I saw him last year, and knew he was back to do it again. Team Hoyt was there again, too. They are well known up here, but for those of you who don't know them, Dick Hoyt pushes his son, Rick, in a special wheelchair. Rick has cerebral palsy, and this was the 28th year that they have run Boston and they completed over 1000 races including Ironman triathlons together. Google "Team Hoyt" and read their story. There were blind runners with guides. There was Elvis, the Cat in The Hat, Mickey and Minnie Mouse, Bananas, and Mario out there running, too. There are many other charities represented, each runner with their own purpose and inspiration. There were signs reading "Happy Thoughts" and "Where's Valerie?" and "Tampa Bay 6, Red Sox 0" and "Run, Mommy, Run." And everyday runners from all over the world. It's an experience that makes you have one of your best days ever, even if you don't feel your best.

Did I feel good yesterday? Not so much. Did I love it? You bet. My aunt said to me this morning that she wasn't going to even ask me if I was going to do it again until I could walk normally again. But, I already know the answer. If I am able, I will. What I realized is that this effort, this marathon, this cause....it isn't about me or my personal goals. They are good to have but should probably be saved for a different race at a different time when that is my focus. I discovered yesterday that what makes me run in Boston isn't trying to achieve a personal best. My focus for running Boston is my family, and your family, and friends. And funding research to find a cure for cancer. That's what got me to the finish line.

Be good. Be strong.

Providing a spark

"At times our own light goes out and is rekindled by a spark from another person. Each of us has cause to think with deep gratitude of those who have lighted the flame within us." ~Albert Schweitzer

I've been trying to say "thank-you" to as many of you as I can for your support of this endeavor this year. While the financial support of this cause has been extraordinary and out of the realm of anything I could have imagined, I've been truly touched by the everyday support and kindness in a way I will not forget. I've heard from cousins, elementary school friends, high school teammates, high school classmates of my parents, relatives of family friends, teachers, my dear college girlies, friends of my siblings, coworkers of my husband, parents of the friends of my kids, friends of friends of friends, and even from many people I've never met. The breadth of support has come from far and wide, and I am inspired and motivated by all of you. Thank you for hearing our story and understanding the importance of this cause. Thank you for offering a kind word when we've crossed paths. Thanks for the emails and cards with your meaningful messages of support. Thank you for planning the 80's party, and for coming out in support of this cause. Thanks for running with me, and for pushing me to continue on. Thanks for your advice and coaching. Thank you to all of you who have stood by our family, and who have really understood and listened. Thank you for teaching me about kindness and compassion through your example. Thank for being a part of this experience, and for making it so incredibly meaningful. Thanks for providing a spark. I am truly grateful.

Thanks to all of you who have been able to make a contribution to Dana-Farber this year in honor of the marathon. As of this moment, we've been able to contribute $19,296, which will help the entire DFMC team on the way to fulfilling the $4.4 million goal. If you would still like to make a donation, contributions can be accepted for a while longer, and can be made by visiting www.runDFMC.org/2010/jennies.

I think my work for tomorrow is just about complete. Gear is all packed. We picked up my number and DFMC stuff yesterday in Boston. I've been getting some extra carbs and water on board. Dinner is planned for tonight. Spectator plans are final. All that is left to do is run, and to keep saying thank-you along the way.

If you are in the Boston area, come out and cheer for the runners tomorrow. It looks to be a really nice day. There are 26 miles of roads so finding a clear spot is not too hard! My family will be in Wellesley and hopefully Brookline before meeting me at the Finish. Let me know if you want to join them, and I'll fill you in on their top-notch viewing location. I'll be wearing #22881, my orange Dana-Farber shirt, and hopefully a smile!

Be good. Be strong.

Prep work

Marathon weekend is here. I am feeling the excitement, and am waiting with anticipation for Monday morning to roll around so we can get this show on the road! This week has been long, filled with emotions and stress and doubt, but also many well wishes and kind words. I got a run in for the first time in almost 3 weeks yesterday. No pain but lots of difficulty breathing and tired legs. But the important part of that is that I had no pain in my leg!! I hope the weeks of rest will pay off on Monday, but I am just thankful that I will be in Hopkinton on Monday ready to start. Hopefully I'll find myself in Boston a few hours later having arrived by running on my own legs!!

I finished my shirt (see picture) that I will wear on Monday, and will proudly carry the names of 135 people who have been diagnosed with cancer. Thank you for sharing their stories with me. If you are out on the course, please give a shout out to the 500 Dana-Farber runners out there. We'll all be cruising down the road in these orange shirts, so you won't miss us!

We'll head into Boston tomorrow to pick up my number and check out the expo. I'll check in with the Dana-Farber crew while we are in there to make sure I am all set for Monday. We may try to scope out a second viewing spot closer to the city. We have usually set up shop in Wellesley around mile 16, but my family may try to sneak a second location this year in Newton or Brookline. If anyone has any secrets about parking or getting to the course without a lot of walking, please feel free to share them.

And we'll spend some time relaxing. I am happy to have my sisters here, and it is supposed to be a rainy couple of days, so it is a good reason to stay inside and put our feet up. It's too cold for these Southerners in April, too! We'll eat some good carbs, and drink a lot of fluid in preparation. And by this time on Monday, I should be (hope to be!) finished with the 2010 running of the Boston Marathon, and will be relishing and rethinking the day from start to finish. I will probably be rehashing the experience while maybe having some ice cream or cake, maybe a margarita or beer, followed by some pizza or a burger. All depends on how I am feeling! Eating may be followed by a nap, and then maybe some more eating. I hope that I will be walking on my own without any extraneous bandages or ice packs attached as a result from the run, too. Without having any idea how I will feel on Monday or what kind of run it will be, I know that despite all the extraneous circumstances that affect the day, it will be good. And I will be glad it is over, and all the while, I'll be wishing to do it all again.

Be good. Be strong.

The old ball and chain

As the number of days until the marathon dwindles, I am finding my level of anxiety increasing just a little bit. The cut back on training as a race gets closer is always hard, but this year I have found it to be a little worse than normal. I don't remember feeling this way last year, but I was not trying to let an injury heal and had other things of higher priority as my focus at the time. As I've said before, running is a good activity for me because it keeps me busy, gets me moving, and occupies my mind. In the absence of this obsession, I have been restless and without much focus, and therefore, a total bother to my husband and kids!

My husband, Andrew, really isn't the old ball and chain as I named this post. He's actually quite the opposite, and a big part of the reason why I am able to run as much as I like to. He is deserving of a great deal of gratitude for making this commitment so easy for me. Having a spouse (or girlfriend, boyfriend, partner, ball and chain, etc.) training for a marathon is not easy. It's a big time commitment, especially on the weekends, and it can be a physically and emotionally draining time for both the runner and their family. I am lucky to have a husband who is not phased by this, and does what he can to be supportive. Andrew understands why I run, and how it makes me feel (which is usually much calmer and at ease). He understands how I feel when I haven't run, too (which can be edgy and impatient at best). Last week, he kindly nudged me to go "do something that will make you feel like you had gone running" so I would find a happy place again. He's been known to kick me out the door to go for a run because, more often than not, I am a happier person when I get home. He also recognizes this fine line that exists between feeling great and feeling like junk after a long run, and on those "junk" days, he so graciously suggests I take a nap. I imagine the alternative to me sleeping is for me to be cranky and annoying, so why not let me rest, right? And he knows why running for Dana-Farber is important to me. He just gets it.

The thing is that he has always "gotten it." Not just about running, but about life and family and providing support. Never has this been more evident than in the past two years. The craziness that comes with any long-term illness, like cancer, can really bring to light the core of who someone is inside. My brother, John, lived with our family off and on for five years, including the final year of his life. He came to live with us originally for about a year so he could begin receiving treatment in Boston, and over the next few years, while his health was good, he lived on his own. In 2008, John came back to live with us after the tumor had recurred so he could again begin treatment. Throughout these stays, Andrew's support was unwavering, not just of me but of John. He welcomed him in our home whenever he needed or wanted to be here. He just felt like that is what you do to help family. He believes that our extended families are one and the same. Not his family and my family, but our family. And he's always been willing to take with that whatever was coming down the road, and for a while, there hasn't been a whole lot of happy rolling down the street. When John's health started to worsen, my parents and sisters and aunts were here for weeks at a time. Andrew was happy to have them around. John's friends made trips to visit him and there were people coming and going at all times. Andrew was happy to see their faces. When visiting nurses or hospice people were here, he was always happy to help. He never complained, or at least only in jest to bring some laughs to the crazy aunties. He always shared a laugh or a joke when the mood called for it, and sometimes when the mood didn't but that is what you get with Andrew! He always tries to make better a difficult situation. He does this not because he has to, but because he wants to. Because that is just what you do.

I met Andrew in college, and frighteningly enough, have now known him half of my life. Way back when at the time we met, I could not have imagined that his easy-going, humor-filled, lighthearted, generous manner would be so important during a tumultuous few years. He balances my seriousness with laughter. He tries to make things fun even when it is hard to see that opportunity is there. He brings light in when I am sometimes inclined to block it out. He just does what it takes, whatever that might be.

We are coming off a media circus with Tiger Wood's ridiculously named "historic comeback" at the Master's. I was so happy to see Mickelson come out with the win. He played a great round of golf yesterday when it mattered, but that isn't necessarily the story. He, too, has had a personally trying year that wasn't the result of some really poor and selfish choices, and Mickelson deserved a lot of the attention that was, in my opinion, misdirected elsewhere. Rick Reilly of ESPN wrote a great story about Mickelson and his family, and what they've gone through. Take a minute if you read it. Rick Reilly: A Win Beyond Golf. He tells of his support for his wife and his mother and his children. And a little bit about winning his third green jacket. He writes that it was a win for women, which may be true, but it is also a win for the guys who work hard at just being decent guys every day.

I am happy to say one of those guys is my husband, who may be horrified that I wrote this, but he is deserving of some thanks. I'm sure he'll learn to live with the resulting fame! So, thank you, Andrew. I know I can't say it enough.

Be good. Be strong.