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 :)

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: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 

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.