Some Days are Like That, Even in Australia

When I was a little girl, one of my favorite books was Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good Very Bad Day.  It chronicles a very bad day in young Alexander's life; he wakes up with last night's gum in his hair and everything goes downhill from there.  Alexander's response to this terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day is simple, "I think I'll move to Australia." Eventually, though trials and tribulations, Alexander learns that "some days are like that, even in Australia." This book is one of my favorites because I can totally relate, there are just some days that make me want to go back to bed, or to Australia---anywhere it might be better. 

I had such a day at practice on Sunday.  It started off alright, but I knew I had to leave at a certain time so I was a little stressed out.  In the water, things also started alright; we swam north for a mile and while I wasn't at the front of the group, I felt strong and comfortable. On the way back, however, the current started flowing north fast, in the opposite direction of where I was headed. Swimming against a current like that is frustrating and exhausting. After a while it was like swimming on a treadmill, pushing and pushing, pulling and kicking, getting nowhere... and then, I freaked out. 

Maybe it was the fact that I knew I needed to leave by 11. Maybe it was the fact that I had forgotten to eat breakfast. Maybe it was just a terrible, horrible, no good very bad swim. Whatever the cause, I started to cry and then I started to panic. My coach cheered me on and I tried to keep going, but my heart was racing and I couldn't catch my breath and while I knew that this was just a panic attack, a stupid fight or flight response in over-drive, I couldn't make it stop.  Eventually, I had to be towed by the kayak about 2/10ths of a mile back to the cove where I finished my swim. I wanted him to drop me off in Australia. I was embarrassed and ashamed. 

Looking back I realized that as much as that sucked (and trust me, it was Chock Full O' Suck), I wasn't alone. I had a coach who never let me give up on myself. I had a kayaker there to bring me back to safety. I had teammates cheering me on as I came in.  The wonderful thing about the Hudson River Swim for Life Team is that we are never alone, we have one another's backs. 

And we have the backs of those fighting blood cancers.  I may have had a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad swim, but it is nothing like what those we swim for face every day. One person in the United States is diagnosed with a blood cancer approximately every four minutes. Terrible, horrible, no good very bad day, doesn't begin to cover it.  We swim to help find treatments and cures to increase the number of healthy, joyful, cancer-free days for those patients and their families. Please join me in having their backs.  If you can, please donate now to the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society.

...and remember, some days are like that, even in Australia. 

*Illustration from Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day, by Judith Viorst

Healing the Lifeblood

Everyday as I drive home from work there is this brief moment when I come over the crest of a hill, and am treated to a spectacular view of the Hudson River.  Its beauty overwhelms me and just for a moment, all of the stress and drudgery of the day washes away. Inevitably some other driver or small annoyance breaks my reverie, but I am always grateful for those few seconds of exquisite beauty. 

The river is a powerful, dynamic, gorgeous body of water, which is why I am often taken aback by people's disgusted reactions when I talk about the Swim for Life. "Eww, but the Hudson is sooo dirty!" Every time there is a news story about the health of the river, I worry. I worry that we will be kept away. I worry that it won't get better. I worry most, though, that people will do nothing.
  
The Hudson has been a dumping ground for many years, first it was the ships, then the factories, and oh, the sewage.  For too long the Hudson has been abused by the people who needed her most. Thanks to the efforts of amazing groups like Riverkeeper, Clearwater Hudson and people like Pete Seeger, Dar Williams and so many more, the Hudson is healing, but it will take all of us to make her as healthy as possible.

In many ways, the fact that the Swim for Life raises money for blood cancer is especially appropriate, because the Hudson is the lifeblood of this community and she needs our help to heal. By swimming in her waters and giving her our love and our voices, we can heal her too.
 
Last week there was a report that drug-resistant bacteria had been discovered in the river (not near our swim sites, thankfully). The bacteria is the result of waste-water treatment facilities and improper dumping, which is maddening AND completely controllable.  We have the power to fix that. Call the state, ask for more inspections of waste water plants and higher fines for those who break the rules. Join Riverkeeper. Go to the Clearwater Festival. Come swim with me(or donate to the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society)

Together, we can Cure Cancer AND Heal the Lifeblood of our community.




 

Fighting Fire with Water

There is a video you should watch, because it's amazing. It's called "Fire with Fire" and it's about doctors and researchers using the HIV virus to fight Leukemia cells in the blood of a six year old girl named Emma. It's a short film, but it inspires me every day because that research was funded in part by the Leukemia & Lymphoma Society.  That means that athletes, like myself, who trained and participated in marathons and triathlons and walks and the Hudson River Swim for Life, helped make that research possible.  The money was raised long before I joined the team; but my predecessors gave a little bit of themselves and gave that doctor the ability to turn something deadly into a tool for healing.

It's deadly hot here in New York this week. It's been over 90 for more than a week. All I want to do is swim, to use the water to refresh and cool myself.  I told a friend the other day that I just wanted to sleep in the Hudson, tied to a buoy.  This morning, I re-watched this video today and I realized that the Hudson too is a tool for healing. While Carl June is fighting fire with fire, the Hudson River Swim for Life TNT team fights fire with water.  Every time I step into the Hudson and train for the three-mile swim in September, I join with all those people who have trained and fought and begged their friends for money to help fight cancer and all those doctors and researchers who are getting us closer to doing just that.

I hope you'll join me, in the water, on the shore as a cheerleader, through a donation to the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society or by sharing this with your friends.  Together, I have no doubt can cure cancer! Please, help me fight fire with water.

xo

Three Years, Three Miles, $3,000

I've been a bad blogger; a long fall became a hectic winter, spring breezed past and now fourth of July is just a few days away. 

Of course, for me, summertime has become synonymous with "training"---waking up early on weekend mornings to take on the Hudson and training in the pool every Tuesday night.  The good news is, it's barely July and I feel ready.  After two summers of trainings and two heartbreaking, last-minute cancellations of the three mile swim from Nyack to Sleepy Hollow, I am beyond ready to make it across the mighty Hudson.  My body is mostly in agreement and cooperating so far, but the mind has made the decision and there is no turning back. 

Since this is my third and probably final year (the construction on the Tappan Zee may make this event impossible for a while) I've set a pretty high fundraising goal for myself, $3,000-a $1000 for each mile between Nyack and Sleepy Hollow.  If you can help me meet this goal with a small donation, I would be much obliged.  Secure pledges can be made online at http://pages.teamintraining.org/wch/Hudson13/emmystrange

Over the past two summers, I have had the great pleasure of getting to meet hundreds of people whose lives have been touched by blood cancers and together we've worked to raise money to find new and innovative ways to treat these horrible cancers.   I encourage you to watch the attached video to see how researchers have harnessed the HIV virus to fight blood cancer, it is, in a word Amazing http://vimeo.com/54668275

Thank you for reading, I promise to be a better blogger going forward :)

The Finish Line

The pink dot on your screen is me, coming in to the finish line of the Hudson River Swim for Life last Saturday.  I completed the swim in 32:46, which placed me in the bottom fifth, but it was my fastest mile ever, so, yay!  What's that? Only a mile? Yes, for the second year in a row, the Swim for Life was cut to one mile for safety reasons.  And I'll admit it, there were tears, big, salty, broken-hearted tears.  When I heard the news that the Coast Guard had made the call, I was devastated. After two summers of training, after three surgeries, and a trip back from the very edges of health, after gains and losses of every shape and size to get to the end and not complete the task felt like failure. However, members of my team wrapped me in hugs and surrounded me with loving supportive words and got me through the sadness and frustration.  My dear teammate, Rob, told me that I was a big part of the reason he had committed to the swim, that I promised to get him across.  It's true. I promised, so I guess we're going to have to do it again next year.

The Coast Guard was probably right. Experienced kayakers were bouncing all over the place and inexperienced kayakers stayed on dry land. The chop was incredible, the current was very strong and at the very end I was fairly sure we would be swept into the rocks. Throughout the swim, visibility was low and swimmers were running into one another.  I had hoped that during the three mile I would be able to get away from people and really get the chance to swim my own swim, but that will have to wait for next year.  At the finish line, my parents were waiting; my mother ringing her purple cowbell like a pro. 

All in all, it was a good day, even if it was not the day we had hoped for. I have a feeling many of us will be there again next year with a score to settle. It's kind of appropriate, because, just like the search for a cure and an end to blood cancer, it isn't finished. We may not have conquered the river or cured cancer, but we've done what we could and we'll keep fighting. So far the team has raised over $45,000 and we would like to make that $50,000. My donation page is still up, http://pages.teamintraining.org/wch/Hudson12/emilyg if you're so inclined.  Thank you all for your words or support, donations and prayers.  You're part of this team too and I appreciate you all!

Countdown: ONE DAY MORE!

There is one day left before the big swim, about 25 more hours and I swear, if Les Mis doesn't get out of my head I'm going to lose it!  Speaking of songs stuck in your head, last week, after practice, my teammate, Rob, mentioned the songs that had popped into his head while he was swimming, many other people began to chime in with the songs or catch phrases that lodged in their minds while swimming.  The thing about swimming, especially for long distances in brackish water, is that it becomes a little like what I imagine being in a sensory deprivation chamber might be like.  Most of the time your vision is focused on grey water, the sounds around are muted and the sounds from within are turned up to eleven. There is a fuzziness between fantasy and reality, almost like dreaming while awake.

This happened last week while I was swimming, I started to feel as though I didn't have to swim as hard because I was made of water and I needed to stop fighting and start flowing.  I realized that this river that I was in was made up of almost the same elements that I am, water, salt and minerals, that the Hudson runs through New York like the blood flows through my veins.  It was at that moment that I realized how appropriate this swim is.  We fight cancer in the river just as white blood cells fight within the body.
Several hundred people jumping into the NY's major artery to fight blood cancers, just like the medicines created from the research dollars we raise are injected into human veins and arteries for the same purpose.

Pretty cool, eh? There isn't much time left. Please donate if you can at http://pages.teamintraining.org/wch/Hudson12/emilyg.

Countdown: TWO FREAKIN' DAYS!

Two more days! I'm just a walking talking bundle of nervous energy. Tonight the team will come together for our Send Off Dinner, a few hours of camaraderie and laughter and eating before we head home to prepare for our swim.  There is something a little sad about this night.  We are a team, but this is a very individual sport.  We've trained together, pushed each other and cheered one another on, but on Saturday, we will swim alone.

I find I swim best when I can forget about everyone else in the water, focus on my own stroke, my own breath, my own body, but it can be a very lonely endeavor. On Saturday, one person will hold the key to my success and to tell you the truth, right now she's a hot mess.  However, I'm never really alone. I think of you all often as I swim, those of you who have gotten me this far with your comments, shares and words of encouragement. I ask for your thoughts and prayers over the next 36 hours or so, for myself, for my team and for those we swim for. 

If you have not yet donated, there is still time. As of this moment I have $714 dollars left to raise to meet my personal goal. 

Thank you for reading, for your donations, for your support. I am so grateful to all my family and friends for getting me this far.

Countdown: Three Days!

Three Days, Three Penguins.

Lord, I hope I have some Penguin Swag on Saturday! Just look at those guys, cool, confident, ready for anything.  Yesterday, two teammates and I were discussing the fact that while there are some speedy, athletic, graceful swimmers on our team, the three of us are definitely the B Team.  The slower ones, the ones most likely to elicit eye-rolls from our extremely patient coaches, the most likely to forget our goggles, prone to injury, real or imagined, oh yeah, that would be us.  We've decided to call ourselves Group W, which will make sense to Arlo Guthrie* fans.  We're owning our lovable loserness, our outsider cache, our "always picked last" personal narratives, because it's a testament to how far we've come.

On Saturday, it won't really matter how cool we are. What will matter is how far we've come and how well we handle those last three miles of the journey. All of us have come so far. I look around my team at people who have gained skills and speed, sure, but I also see people who have become more confident, stronger and slightly more insane. Together we have raised as a team, 33,771!!!  Personally, I am still $875 away from my goal.  Can you help?

*Link may be NSFW  

Countdown: Four Days

It's the Tuesday before the Hudson River Swim for Life.  It's also September 11. Today, in the Hudson Valley, the sun rose on a beautiful, cloudless, fall day, reminiscent of a day eleven years ago. I struggled with writing today, because today's date will always remind us of loss.  It's hard to do justice to the day. However, the purpose of this blog is to raise awareness of people from New York coming together to do something in support of people we don't know, so I will try.

 In a few days, over one hundred people will enter the waters of the Hudson River, that beautiful, life giving river that was the backdrop of so many painful pictures, and they will begin to swim. They will swim for the sick and the saints, they will swim for those who have not yet begun their fight, those who have won and those who we have lost. 

For me, the lesson of 9-11 has always been that when we were faced with danger and terror and sadness we did not fall apart or give up, we came together. When we enter the water on Saturday, I hope we will be a testament to the fact that when we come together, we can change the world.

Countdown:Five Days!!!

There are just five days left until the Hudson River Swim for Life and the seriousness of what we're doing has settled in. Tonight we had our safety meeting where we were reminded of all of the potential risks and dangers the waters might hold.  We have been training for over three months, but each of us seemed a little shaken.  Three of us at the meeting trained last year for the three mile, only to have the swim cut to a one mile swim with just 24 hours notice.  I think in some ways the three of us, Andy, Sandy and myself, were more nervous than the first timers, because we have spent almost seven months of our lives training and it all comes down to this Saturday.  We have worked so hard and given up so much sleep (and a little dignity begging for funds), if we can't reach the finish line, it will feel like failure.

But it will not be failure.  Together, along with our teammates, we have raised tens of thousands of dollars to fight blood cancer.  Last night, we learned that, a few days ago, our coach lost a former student to Leukemia.  A child who smiled and played and never wanted to be different, a child who never made it to high school, lost her fight.  Everyone on the team is swimming with someone in their minds and hearts.  If the dollars we raise can help comfort a grieving family, make therapies more affordable or support the research that will finally put an end to blood cancer, then no matter what happens on Saturday, we will have succeeded.

There is still time to help.  Donate at http://pages.teamintraining.org/wch/Hudson12/emilyg

Countdown: 8 Days

Eight more days. Ironically, it seems like both forever and not long enough. Between now and next Saturday there is so much to be done: One more river swim. A safety meeting to make sure we listen to our kayakers and don't swim into barges. A team dinner. Final pool practices. A thousand dollars more to raise to meet my personal goal of $2500. Eight more days! Did I mention I'm moving too? It's all a bit overwhelming. 

With eight days left to go, there is a temptation to just throw up my hands and give up on trying to meet the fundraising goal.  It's too much, too hard, people must be getting sick of me asking. But I'm doing this for truly sick people. One person in the United States is diagnosed with a blood cancer approximately every four minutes. That means that in the eight days that I have left, 2880 Americans will begin the fight of their lives. 2880 people will discover that their blood has turned against them. 2880 mothers, fathers, daughters, sons, will have bad news for the people who love them. 

The good news is, 2880 people will have much better odds than they would have a few decades ago, because of the work of the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society.  When LLS was founded in 1949, a blood cancer diagnosis was almost always a death sentence. Now, survival rates have doubled, tripled and even quadrupled for blood cancer patients. The research and advocacy of LLS has been a huge part of that change.

I'm swimming for those 2880 people and the hundreds of thousands of others who are living with and dying from blood cancers. Will you help me?

To donate, please visit my donation page at http://pages.teamintraining.org/wch/Hudson12/emilyg 

Countdown: 9 Days

I came across the image above while searching for the number nine, and was struck by how appropriate it is for today's blog.  No matter where you start in New York, you  have to travel Rt. 9 to get to Kingsland Point Park in Sleepy Hollow*.  For the past three months, my teammates and I have come from all directions, from Rockland, Westchester, Putnam and Dutchess Counties, to prepare for the morning when we will take the long way to Kingsland Point Park and the finish line of the Hudson River Swim for Life.  Now, that morning is only 9 days away!

The drive down Rt. 9 sometimes seems longer than the practices themselves.  The anticipation for the challenges the river might offer up builds as the miles fly pass. However, the anxiety dissipates once when we see our teammates. Waking up early on weekend mornings to swim several miles at a time in the Hudson takes a special kind of person. I am always amazed at how committed, compassionate and, let's face it, crazy, our team is.  We come from all walks of life, various ages and fitness levels. Some are gregarious, others shy. Some goof around to prepare for practice, others stretch or do yoga, but we all have one goal in mind, to conquer the river and kick cancer's butt.
In nine days this team of people, who months ago were strangers, will enter the water in Nyack together and will head toward Sleepy Hollow where friends and families will gather to cheer each of us, as we cross the finish line.  After hugs and kisses and maybe a sandwich we will head home to showers and naps along Rt. 9, knowing we will never be the same. 

You can help me make it across my personal finish line by donating at http://pages.teamintraining.org/wch/Hudson12/emilyg. 


*Unless you live in Sleepy Hollow, obv. ;)

Countdown Clock: 10 Days

The Hudson River Swim for Life is just 10 days away!  

The final days will feature a countdown on this blog ending on the day of the swim.  There is so much to be done in the next ten days to prepare, mentally, physically and spiritually.  There are also just ten days left to bring in donations for the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society. Last year alone,  LLS invested nearly $64 million in cutting-edge research. Research that has led to advancements in the treatment of blood cancers and changed the outcomes for patients.  An estimated 1,012,533 people in the United States are living with, or are in remission from, leukemia, Hodgkin lymphoma, non-Hodgkin lymphoma or myeloma. 

Approximately every four minutes, someone new is diagnosed with blood cancer. 

Approximately every 10 minutes, someone dies.

But we have 10 days left to do something!

If you haven't already donated, I hope you'll consider doing so now.  I have set my goal at $2,500 and as of this moment I am still $1,175 from that goal.  It's a big goal, but I know that together we can get there. 

DAY 10 SPECIAL!For every $10 you donate you will receive 3 entries for the raffle to win an LLS sock monkey. Visit http://pages.teamintraining.org/wch/Hudson12/emilyg to donate.

Getting Nowhere, but Making Progress

For about twenty minutes yesterday, this was my approximate view as I swam in the Hudson.  I stroked and kicked as hard and as fast and my limbs would manage, begging my lungs not to explode. I prayed, cursed my body and the current, then prayed some more. Yet every time I lifted my head, this was my view. It gave me some comfort that my friends and teammates seemed to also be stuck in their respective positions, each of us moving furiously but getting nowhere, but mostly it just made me mad. For the past few weeks I have constantly felt stuck, in my job,  my training, my fundraising, no matter how hard I work, I never seem to make any progress.  That stupid lighthouse, staying just out of reach, was on my last nerve! When the kayaker said it was time to turn back, I was frustrated, but overjoyed.  

The swim back was choppy but fun. I would swim a few strokes freestyle then, when the waves made breathing a challenge, I'd switch to breaststroke and bob and glide with the waves, no longer fighting, but being carried by the strong current that had been my nemesis only a few minutes before. It took less than 20 minutes to get back near the cove we call home, according to the kayaker beside me. I was happy to be nearly done, but still feeling kind of defeated.  Suddenly, I heard cheering. My teammate, Susan, was standing on the rocks at the beach club cheering me on and welcoming me back.  When I came out of the water, she walked over, wrapped me in a towel, kissed my forehead and cheeks and told me what a good job I had done. I almost cried in her arms. She was my angel, my cheerleader. In that moment she helped me realize that I have made progress. 

This group of strangers has become a team. Many of the people on the team have become dear friends. Six months ago I was recovering from back-to-back-to-back surgeries and now, I'm whining that I only swam two miles in the Hudson!

Before we started our coach reminded us to look to our sides as we swam, to make sure we were making progress. I think it's hard to measure progress in real time. Some days it feels like we'll never get unstuck. Sometimes a lighthouse can become an enemy. Sometimes it feels like we'll never unlock the keys to curing cancer. It's only when we take the time to look back that we see how far we've actually come.

Thanks for coming on the journey with me.  Please help me fight blood cancers by donating at my fundraising page. I swim for Susan's Uncle Pete, who just passed away, for Sandy and Deborah's husbands, for Lael's niece, for Cynthia, for people I know and people I don't. I hope you'll join me in making progress to fight blood cancer, one stroke at a time.