A Future Long Walk in the Pink

I'm going to make a crossover today between this and my other blog, Racing for a Cure. In late September, I'll be walking 60 miles in three days near Washington DC as part of the Susan G. Komen 3-Day for the Cure, to defeat breast cancer. Along the way, I hope to raise a minimum of $3,600 for this cause.

In addition to raising money for the Komen organization, I do this walk to honor my sister, Ann, who has been battling breast cancer for over four years. She has fought with amazing bravery, but the cancer has spread to her liver, bones, and lungs. I'll be walking 60 miles, a long way to go, and difficult enough. But it is not as difficult or exhausting as it would be for my beloved sister to walk 100 feet. I can't save her, but I CAN walk 60 miles to hopefully inspire people to donate money that will save the lives of others.

If you want more information about what I am doing, or would consider making a donation, you can go to my 3-Day fundraising page here. Perhaps there is a loved one of yours who has battled cancer that you would like to honor with a donation. If so, I will write his or her name on the shirt that I will wear the third and final day of the walk on September 25.

Why should you care about a cure for all breast cancers? Well, if you a woman, I don't think I need to ask you that. But what about men? Should men care? Well, a man is writing this! Besides that, do you have a mother, wife, daughter, grandmother, girlfriend, sister, female cousin, aunt, granddaughter, sister-in-law, female friend, etc? Do I make my point? If not, believe it or not, men get breast cancer, too - it is just fairly rare.

Thanks for your consideration of supporting my long walk in the pink!

Stomping Breast Cancer With Hiking Boots

My friend Chris, AKA “Hawkeye,” steps off in about a month to head north on the Appalachian Trail. He plans on hiking about half of it, ending at Harpers Ferry, West Virginia, or just over 1,000 miles. And he has decided to make the hike about something bigger than just a long walk in the woods. He is going to raise money for the Susan G. Komen For a Cure organization. Chris’s wife is a recent breast cancer survivor.

Breast cancer is a horrible disease. I was thinking today of all the people I personally know who have had to face it. My sister, Ann, who is fighting stage 4 right now. My sister-in-law Christine, who is a 22 year survivor. My friends Janice, Mary Beth, and Bev. My former co-workers Lisa and Linda (who died from it several years ago).

I hope someday we can stomp this disease into the ground, and all other cancers. That is why I race for a cure, and it is one reason Chris is doing this long hike. If you are interested in following Hawkeye’s preparation and progress, you can do so here.

And if you would like to donate to the fine Komen organization in support of Chris’s hike, you can do so here. Even a penny a mile, just a $10 donation, will add up in this desperate fight to kick breast cancer – with hiking boots, in this case - to the curb!

Five Year Tumbledown Anniversary!

Five years ago, August 24, 2003, also on a Sunday, I was standing on top of Tumbledown Mountain in western Maine. Now, we are not talking Mount Everest here, so why should this be a such big deal? People climb mountains like that all the time, and in fact on that day there were dozens of folks that we encountered during the hike. But for me, it was a very big deal - it fulfilled a pledge that I'd made to myself more than a year previously and symbolized my victory over cancer. Here is a brief story about how that all transpired, using a note that I emailed to friends after the trip.

Here I am on top of Tumbledown Mountain in Maine, August 24, 2003 - about 8.5 months after finishing chemotherapy for lymphoma:



It was a beautiful day but extremely windy on top. A year before nearly to the day of this photo, I was in the hospital feeling about as ill as I can ever remember with what turned out to be temporary lung damage from bleomycin. Climbing this mountain with Mary and some exceptional friends was a goal that I set near the start of chemotherapy, so reaching the top was a very special moment for me. To me, it symbolized victory over cancer and a return to good health, and the power of friendship.

Before I got ill we had planned on climbing this mountain, in western Maine, with some great friends during the summer of 2002. With the lymphoma, that could not happen, but in July of that year, my climbing friends sent me a beautiful framed photo of the mountain for my birthday with a note on the back that we would still climb it together. Seeing the beauty of the picture, reading the note, appreciating the thought of “bringing the mountain to me”, and realizing that I would not be climbing it that year – and perhaps never - hit me in an extremely emotional way for some reason. I looked at the photo with tears pouring down my face, the only day I cried during my entire cancer saga.

We hung the photo in our kitchen and every day I looked at it. I resolved that by the summer of 2003, I would be well and strong enough to climb Tumbledown. And that is what happened! Even months after finishing the chemotherapy in early December, I was still not back to full strength, but I gradually got strong and healthy enough to make the trip up Tumbledown Mountain with our friends, even though I was a bit pokey at times. We are only talking maybe 8 or 9 miles, but to me it symbolized victory over cancer and a return to good health. Standing at the top looking out over the forests, mountains, and lakes of Western Maine was just an incredible feeling. Many thanks to Mary, Gordeen and Tom, Chip and Amy for climbing it with me on that August day. It meant more to me than I could ever express.

So if during my cancer year, if you paid me a visit, sent me a card or email, called me to talk, helped with chores around the house, visited me in the hospital, thought good thoughts about my recovery or said a prayer for me, then you helped me get up Tumbledown. If you gave me chemo drugs or mixed them for my treatment, provided oncology or medical services, did X-rays or CT scans, nursed me in the hospital, participated in surgery, conducted lab tests or pulmonary tests, then you too were on that hike with me to the top of the mountain. So to all of you, more thanks than I can express.

To expand upon what I wrote to friends back in 2003, this is a great hike. It is near Mount Blue State Park in Weld, and is very scenic. There is a beautiful high altitude pond near the top. Here is a photo of me near the top with the pond in the background.


After seeing the pond, Amy, Chip and I continued to the top. We had to hike down to the pond, losing quite a bit of elevation, then hiking steeply back uphill. I remember being really tired, and thinking that getting to the pond was enough. It was Amy who gave me the determination to keep going. She essentially said "you set this goal, you are so close. Why not keep going another 20 minutes and see how you feel?" So we kept going, and eventually got to one of the summits (there are two or three) where the photo at the beginning of this post was taken. Amy was so right - if I had turned back, it would have really bothered me later not to get to the top of Tumbledown Mountain.

The photo that my friends gave me still hangs in my kitchen, and I look at it often, always feeling inspired when I do so, and thinking of a very special hike on that August day.

Background - Riprap Hollow Hike

The circuit hike to Riprap Hollow in Shenandoah National Park in Northwest Virginia, USA is one of my favorite hikes, for a number of reasons. First, it is a beautiful hike, and is a great workout through some decent ups and downs. Second, there is a great swimming hole in the hollow (holler as they call them in Virginia). Third, I almost always see wildlife on this hike. In past hikes on this trail, I've seen black bear twice, white tail deer, a timber rattlesnake, a box turtle, and assorted other creatures. But I have a fourth, more personal reason for loving this hike.

In 2002, I was diagnosed with Hodgkin lymphoma and did six months of chemotherapy, from June 3 into December. I have been in remission ever since, to my good fortune. But chemo is very hard on your body. I received four drugs, each of them very toxic with an amazing variety of side effects, every two weeks. One of these drugs, bleomycin, can cause lung damage, and in extreme cases, permanent pulmonary damage and death. In August, 2002, I ended up in the hospital, severely ill with what turned out to be lung damage from this drug. It was about as sick as I have ever felt in my life, and after discussions with the Pulmonary Specialist, I made a decision to discontinue this drug for my last three months of treatment. Dying of cancer did not scare me a fraction as much as the thought of sitting in a wheel chair chained to an oxygen bottle for the rest of my life. The doctor felt like my lungs would probably heal more or less 100% if I stopped getting bleomycin, and they appear to have indeed healed.

When I finished chemo in December, I was weak and in poor physical condition. I had resolved that by the next summer I would be strong and healthy enough to hike again, specifically to do a hike up Tumbledown Mountain in Maine in August. My stamina slowly returned through the winter and spring, and in July 2003, I decided to try the Riprap Hollow hike. It was my first hike of more than a mile or so since recovering from cancer. Although I had done this hike several times before being ill, it will always have special significance for me, representing overcoming cancer.

When I did that hike in 2003, I still had lingering effects from the chemo and was not in peak condition. It was a hard hike for me but I was by myself and could go at my own pace. On the long uphill slog that marks the last 2.5 miles of the hike, I felt like I was crawling and had to stop and catch my breath many times. Younger people flew by me. But I was alive! My lungs worked! (Oh, did they work coming up that trail back to the Skyline Drive). I was hiking again! I was cancer free! I was elated!

So every summer since then, I do this hike as a celebration of life, of health, and of victory over cancer and bleomycin! I know that some summer day, I will do this hike for the last time, but I am hoping that day is still decades away.

This hike is 9.6 miles long, and gains (and loses) 2,260 feet. If you hike the circuit, you are actually on three separate trails - the Appalachian Trail, Riprap Hollow Trail, and Wildcat Ridge Trail. Most of the elevation gain, about 1,500 feet, is in the last 2.5 miles of the hike coming up the Wildcat Ridge Trail. You will know that you have quads! The highlight of the Riprap Hollow hike is the beautiful stream and the swimming hole in the hollow, a refreshing and invigorating reward on a hot day! And if you see a black bear on the trail, consider it a bonus!