Start Now

I’ve decided that every cancer survivor should get a trip. It should be a package deal: “We’re sorry to tell you that you have cancer, but there’s more! After you go through hell to get rid of it, we’re giving you an all-expenses paid trip to wherever you want!” It would not make the year or more of hell any better, but it sure would be a nice reward after all that suffering. When I was first diagnosed and dying in the hospital, I remember telling my mom that all I wanted after this nightmare was to go lie on a beach in Hawaii. I would daydream of myself on a beach, cancer-free, cocktail in hand. (Billionaires, take note: cancer survivors deserve free trips.)

I was lucky. I survived and I did get my trip (albeit not for free, and not Hawaii). My husband and I recently returned from ten glorious days in France. It was our tenth anniversary (yes, we married young) and if it weren’t for cancer, we likely would not have done something so extravagant. But since 2012 was without doubt the worst year ever, we were determined to make the bliss of 2013 outweigh it, even if that meant stretching the budget just a tad. It is hard to fully explain the strain that cancer can put on a marriage. While in the end the experience made us stronger and closer, it is an understatement to say that it did not afford us much enjoyable time together.

But we made up for that in France. We spent half the time meandering around Paris, taking copious amounts of pictures and ducking into endless cafes to escape the rain. The other half of our trip was on the French Riviera, soaking up the sun and enjoying the luxury of beach time that didn’t involve sandcastles or water fights. We ate on terraces, practiced our feeble French, and gawked at the yachts in Monaco. I swam in the sea. My husband longingly watched countless cyclists whip by on the coast, and both of us began to ache for some real exercise. Despite that, I literally ate my way through France. Pain au chocolat, cheap wine, croissants, macarons, fresh mussels, baguettes, espresso, goat cheese, crepes with Nutella…there was little I didn’t devour. And to my shock, despite the fact that I could not run, I did not gain a single pound. French women really don't get fat! Apparently paying large amounts of money for small amounts of food and walking for hours each day will do that. (Oh, and the smoking. But not in my case, obviously.)

Being able to celebrate life in this way was by far the best post-cancer gift I could have ever had. My husband and I had not had a real child-free vacation since before we had kids (our oldest is five). My parents generously flew out from Vancouver to care for our children while we were away, and having that much time without work or parenting or doctor’s appointments was so completely foreign to both of us that it took a few days to realize we didn’t have anywhere to be. No babysitter to get home to. No six o’clock morning workouts. No work deadlines. No meetings. No errands. No training logs. And best of all (for me), there were no meals to cook and no bathrooms to clean. I highly recommend it.

Now that we are back, regular life is in full swing. Young kids don’t wait for jet lag. But I feel great. I still get tired, of course, but I cannot tell if that’s still post-chemo fatigue or just the general exhaustion of raising young children while juggling writing, yoga training, a new business, and training five or six days a week (I’m guessing the latter). Compared to last year, or even compared to previous years in graduate school, I don’t even recognize my life. And that’s a great thing.

The only trouble is, I currently can’t run. Not only can I not run fast, I cannot even run across the street. I had to drop out of the half marathon taking place next week that I've been training for all summer. Devastating. About a month ago I was hit with an excruciating pain in my hip that still has not resolved (diagnosed as bursitis). After lamenting about how many injuries I’ve had this summer, my coach surmised that perhaps part of the problem was that my post-cancer body was simply not ready for the mileage and hard workouts I was putting on it. When I mentioned this to my physiotherapist, he shook his head.

“That’s not part of the problem. That’s all of the problem.”

Oh. OK then. But how do you know when your body is ready? His answer: you don't. Frustrated and generally bummed out, I took some rest time, then returned to the basics and hit the gym. Desperate for cardiovascular activity after a few weeks off, I also hit the pool for the first time in years (though admittedly, there is something a bit torturous about jumping into a cold pool at six in the morning). Then I borrowed my husband’s mountain bike and went for a spin. After a couple weeks of this and still no injury resolution, I realized I was turning into a triathlete out of necessity. Interesting.

I’ve always wanted to do a triathlon. I swam competitively in high school and I’ve run competitively for a while, so it sort of made sense (yes, I was fully ignoring the cycling aspect of the sport). And then, of course, there was my Ironman obsession that arose while I was sick. (This came after the Biggest Loser obsession – I told you I watched a lot of TV last year). I read Chrissie Wellington’s book and then started watching Ironman footage, repeatedly, on Youtube. Eventually, I was sold. It's no secret that I like crazy things - especially crazy things that involve amazing feats of human endurance. I wanted to do one. Never mind that at the time I was a waif running eight-minute kilometres, and I hadn’t hit the pool in three years, and I didn't own a bike or a helmet. I could dream.

I've also been an honoured teammate for Team in Training for the last eight months (TnT is the fundraising arm of the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society). I am supposed to be inspiring the people training for various events who are raising money for blood cancer research, but honestly I think they inspire me even more. I have had so much love and support from these people, and I've decided it is my turn to start giving back. But my bursitis dictates that I can't really train for a marathon right now. My ambition and restlessness, however, dictate that I need to be training for something.

Then I saw that Team in Training is doing a fundraising event in Kona, Hawaii in March. An Olympic-distance triathlon, in the same location as the Ironman World Championships. Interesting again.

I've learned many things from cancer. One of them is to not put off things you've always wanted to do. Don't say "maybe next year," because you might not get a next year. Don't say "we'll do it next time we come here," because you may never be back. Don't wait for ideal conditions. If it's feasible, plan it. Then actually do it. Start now. That's why we went to Paris and didn't wait until we had more money. And that's why I want to do this triathlon and not wait until the timing is better or the situation perfect. This might be my only shot. You just never know.

Of course, there is this teeny, tiny obstacle called a bike. I don’t own one. I used to have a mountain bike that I loved, but it was stolen while we lived in Vancouver. I haven’t owned a bike since and cannot afford to buy one - just a slightly small obstacle in a sport that has a significant cycling component.

But I like to think that I'm not easily defeated. I survived one of the most aggressive forms of leukemia there is. If I can do that, then there is really no good reason why I can’t solve this bike issue, and this injury issue, and do an Olympic distance triathlon for the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society five months from now. And if I can do that, then there’s no reason why I cannot do a half-Ironman eleven months from now. And if I can do that… Well, maybe we should leave it there for now. (Let's just say a lot of bargains and bribery would have to take place in my household before I could even think of training for a full Ironman. I guarantee you  my husband is shaking his head as he reads this.)

So my obstacles now are finding a road bike, learning how to change a tire, and fundraising the required amount for Team in Training. But honestly, after what I’ve been through, that’s really not much… is it?

I guess I’ll find out. And you'll find out, because I will write about the whole crazy journey.

But you all already know how much I love the crazy.

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P.S. If you are interested in sponsoring me in this event by donating to the Leukemia & Lymphoma Society, check back on this blog soon for a link to my fundraising page. Thanks!