I TRI... again.

It was one year ago this week… with great fear and trepidation… that I committed to my first-ever Triathlon.  In retrospect, signing up and paying the entry fee was the easiest part of the journey! 

My initial inspiration came from two good friends who live in different states: Kathy in Kansas and Josie in Indiana. Less than a year prior, Kathy and Josie had never met.  I credit their similar interests (biking and physical fitness), values (family first… always), and ME (their common denominator) for developing a strong sense of friendship with each other after just one fun-filled weekend here in KC!

Kathy, an avid biker, completed her first Triathlon in the summer of 2010.  She knew swimming would be her biggest challenge, which now in my "experienced" opinion, would venture to guess is a high percentage of first-timers biggest fears; it certainly was mine!  The 5k presents a higher level of difficulty for Kathy than it does most… she had a hip replaced several years ago and is not able to run it.  But boy is she a speedy walker!  The 10 mile bike course however, piece of cake… that’s usually just a warm-up for her.

Josie grew up in a physically active family, her Dad opened Indy’s beloved ‘Bike Line’ years ago and her family still runs the successful bike store today.  Josie majored in Physical Education at UIPUI and juggled raising 3 kids, teaching, and working at the family business for most of her adult life.  Faced with turning 50 years old a couple of years back… Josie did not like what she saw, and was even more alarmed at where she saw herself going.  Instead of moaning and groaning about it like most of us do, Josie got up off the couch and changed her life!  30 lbs later (and lighter), she too challenged herself to a Triathlon.  She tore that course up and had it not been for a rookie mistake which penalized her, she would have had a USAT certified finish time!  Go Josie, go Josie, go Josie…

Both Kathy and Josie began to subtly nudge me into believing I too could become a Triathlete.  When it was clear to them I would need more than a gentle nudge, full-on bribery became their strategy, coupled with good-ol’-fashioned guilt! 

Suffice it to say I cave easily when there is a party and good friends involved in the payoff.  Josie promised to come to Kansas City and join me.  Kathy, who had thought she was going to be a ‘one and done’ triathlete, committed to doing another one AND she convinced her 70 year old mother-in-law Judy, her incredibly athletic (just-didn’t-know-it-now-is-an-animal) sister-in-law Heidi as well as her rock-star sister Kim, to join me in losing our triathlon virginity.  They also promised me a rockin party afterwards; what can I say… I’m easy that way.

I won’t bore you with the details (again) of my brutal training.  Most of you were subject to a painstaking barrage of Facebook status updates for months regarding my training.  February through April was me moaning about needing to start training. In May, I finally began training, only to get derailed by gallbladder surgery on the 25^th (my 20^th wedding anniversary taboot!), leaving June wide open to have a case of the “Oh poor me’s”!  July was the month I finally got serious… think about that… I basically trained in one month.  It kicked my ass, but I did it.

And that my friends is the segue I’ve been searching for to bring this story to its point.  Completing last year’s Win for KC (all women’s) Triathlon, was hands down the most empowering thing I have ever done for myself.  I had, according to my surgeon, the 5 characteristics most common to women with gallbladder disease: I was fair, female, fat, fertile and forty (fifty in my case!) The “real” me had every reason in the world to doubt my ability to be successful.  But…

Josie believed in me.  Kathy believed in me.  And there was one more person, who unbeknownst to me until the day of the race… so strongly believed in me, that a miracle happened at the finish line.

Jilly, who most of you know as my dear, dear friend diagnosed with Stage 4 metastatic disease a year ago this month, was waiting for me as I crossed over the electronic timer.  There were so many people cheering all of us finishers on; the crowd was truly electrifying.  I was already an emotional mess, a combination of exhaustion and exhilaration, but when I spotted Jill… tears in her eyes approaching me with wide-open arms… I embraced her and kept it together until she spoke these words:

“You inspire me Chrissy, I am so proud of you.  I am going to get better.  I am going to beat this thing.  And I am going to someday complete a Triathlon.”

A truly miraculous change from the way she’d been framing her cancer up to this point.

So here it is again, a mere one week away from sign-up day.  I will always be grateful to Josie and Kathy… they clearly inspired me to believe I could do the impossible.  But it is Jill who is my hero… and the reason I choose, like Kathy, not to be a “one-and-done” triathlete.

We don’t always know who we inspire, and we’re certainly not privy to know why or how; people tend to keep their fears private in our society.  But 5 months of blood, sweat and yes… tears, is nothing to pay in exchange for the opportunity to make a difference in someone’s life.

Inspiration is truly a full-circle phenomenon; by being inspired, we become inspirational.  By being inspirational, someone else becomes inspired.

Jill is holding her own by the way.  She is beautiful, she is strong and she is determined.  And let’s not overlook… inspirational!

If this is your year to be empowered… check out Win for KC Triathlon.  It’s open to 1000 women and sold out in 2 days last year… don’t be late!

My Gentle, Gentle Friend Jilly...

I’m pacing today, getting a big fat nuthin accomplished. Here I am an able-bodied person, yet I’m crippled by angst. My friend Jill is receiving her first round of chemotherapy as I type these empty words. She will get an 8-hour drip of Taxol today, a 30-minute drip of Topotecan tomorrow followed by a 30-minute drip of Avastin on Friday. For those of you “in the know” about these things… and there are far too many of us out there… this is a serious chemo-cocktail.



Jill was diagnosed with Stage 1b cervical cancer almost 4 years ago. They did surgery to remove it and no further treatment was required, as early detection of cervical cancer is highly curable. She had her 3-month scans, then her 6-month scans and last month was the first of her yearly scans. Jill was just one year shy of that 5-year mark any of us who have been cursed with cancer live for… that’s the “all clear you can get on with your life now” sign. (In two short weeks, I reach my 10 year “all clear” sign… I am a lucky, lucky girl, yet not without guilt.) With Jill’s first cancer, the same one I had only mine was a slightly lesser stage, they gave her an 85% survival rate 5 years out. Mine was 90%... really? One stinkin year is all she had to go.


But that was then, this is now…


Jill's mom Judy, our friend Mary and I, took Jill wig shopping yesterday. Jill has always worn her hair long and last weekend she cut 12 inches off, sent them to “Locks of Love” and is now sporting a darling bob. That’s my opinion of course; Jill hates it. We tried several on yesterday, short shaggy styles… Mary’s favorite, mid-length layered styles, probably my fav only because they most look like the Jill we know and love. I’m not sure this is the time for a complete makeover when you are wishing with all your might that things could just return to normal. For funzies… and at the request of her brother Craig, Jill tried on a flame red number. “Sexy” was the response from big Bro! We managed a few giggles, but there were many more tears than we had hoped for. And believe me when I say… they weren’t all Jill’s.


As most of you know, this ain’t my first Rodeo. I lost my dear friend Dini to pancreatic cancer 4 years ago and then my sister TC to breast cancer 3 years ago this past November. I know all too well the journey we are embarking on. 


But know this too…


Stage IV Metastatic Disease: Fuck you; we’re not runnin. We are bringin out the big guns and you had better have your ass ready to retreat. You are not welcome here… get lost, scat, be gone… all the way gone this time!


Big tough-bad-ass words? Yep, they’re all I have right now as my friend Jill, sits in a chair, with her Mom by her side… drip, drip, drip, drip, drip…


Jill is the gentlest soul I know in this entire world. Please do whatever it is you do best when someone needs your help. Prayers, good Juju, pins in a Voo-doo doll, a stiff drink with a heartfelt toast. Send them all my good friends way; they all matter… this I know.

I Can See Clearly Now

The rain is gone.
I can see all obstacles in my way
Gone are the dark clouds that had me blind
It’s gonna be a bright (bright), bright (bright)Sun-Shiny day.(I Can See Clearly Now. Johnny Nash, 1972)


I’ve not been seeing too clearly lately.
In fact, I’ve barely been seeing anything at all.
I’ve been too scared to look.
Too scared to write.
And definitely too scared to let go.

I tried hard to hang on to 2006.
It felt like I was holding my breath just willing time to stand still.
I was paralyzed by the fear of what lie ahead in the New Year.

Then finally today, I exhaled.
A long, solid, soul-cleansing exhale.
I needed to catch my breath.
Time waits for no one.

I had received somewhat anticipated, yet dreadful news today.
My friend Jill was diagnosed with cancer.
She is devastated, petrified and fearing the worst.

“What am I going to do, what’s going to happen to my girls?” she asked me.

I had a sudden flashback to October 2003, when TC was first diagnosed with breast cancer.
For a split second, I thought of all the things we would do differently.
Then just as quickly, I was overwhelmed by the thought of everything she, TC, had done right.
With that, I answered Jill.

“You will fight”, I told her.
“And you will live your life with vigor.
To your young girls, you will give the gift of independence.
Your husband will be given the opportunity to rise to the occasion and be the man he was always meant to be.
Because of you, they will learn compassion.
From you, they will learn courage.
And together…you will be strong, and you will win.”

Jill is numb today.
But I can see clearly now.
TC doesn’t want me to hold my breath anymore.
By doing so, I am disrespecting the very thing she wants for me most…
To “live my life with vigor”.

I love to write in my blog.
I love it when someone sends me a note and tells me I touched them or inspired them or that I made them laugh.

I was sad when the words stopped coming.
And I am grateful that they are back.
Jill gave them to me.

The song doesn’t say that the obstacles are gone.
Instead, it acknowledges and confronts them.
Most all of us will face obstacles this year.
If given the chance, don’t be blinded by them.
Confront them, face them, fight them if you must.
But above all else…
Hang on.

Hang on and wait for the bright, sun-shiny days to return.
I’ve got to believe that someday, they will return.
TC would want me to.