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 :)

well, hello there

Hey there, my lovelies. It's the WINTER. Usually this is the time of year that I like to hibernate, to hide under the covers and pretend that it isn't cold and gross outside.  I usually don't write when I'm not actively in the process of training for something or asking for money for some cause or another, because I think people already have so many distracting things to read on their lunch hours.  This year, however, I've been feeling a strong desire to write, to let my thoughts out so they don't get stuck under the covers with me. 

I hope you'll read my posts, I hope even more that you comment, contribute and share.  I miss you, dear friends and readers, and Sackal is tired of me telling him every little thought that is in my head*.

So, how is the winter treating you so far?

Any exciting New Year's resolutions, or better yet, New Year's revelations?

What do you want to read about? Ask me anything and I'll wax poetic.

<3 E

*yes, I know Sackal is not real, silly!

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.