Swimming Like A Shark

Beating cancer is a life-long quest. It's not just about successfully enduring the treatments that eradicate the cancer that initially made its home in your body, but warding off any new iterations of the disease. Preventing a recurrence requires far more than wishful thinking. In my opinion, it requires proactive, daily effort. 

Fitness -- serious, athlete-level fitness -- is one of the cornerstones of my cancer-beating plan. I plan to vary my workouts, integrating weightlifting with other forms of exercise that I love, like basketball. But weights and hoops are not enough for me, so I'm in the process of seeking new ways to reach my fitness goals. Last night, I found a new love: swimming. 

After hitting the weights at Educogym (I can tell I'm getting stronger, by the way - sweet!), I headed over to my other gym, L.A. Athletic Club (or LAAC if you're one of the cool kids). Before I continue with my story, let me get something out of the way. Yes, I belong to two gyms. 

So I got to LAAC at around 8ish, which is evidently the perfect time to take a swim. Almost all the lanes in the gorgeous 25 meter pool were open. After throwing on my super-sporty new one piece (I'll save the scar-baring two piece for the beach), I was in the water and loving it. I swam 250 meters -- five laps up and back -- and quickly realized that swimming would become a part of my regular fitness regimen. It was awesome, and I know it's an excellent way to get -- and stay -- in shape. 

I find swimming to be both energizing and exhausting. I'm winded while I'm doing it, working practically every muscle in my body, but totally amped afterwards. My body just feels more alive while I'm kicking in the water, and afterwards, while I'm showering all the chlorine off me. I can almost feel my blood flowing happily and more efficiently throughout my body.

I'm also finding swimming to be extremely peaceful, too. While I was cutting through the water last night, I didn't have a thought or care in the world. It was just me, the water, my body, and my breathing. There were no worries, no constraints, no anxiety. And definitely no cancer.

Bless Me, Body, For I Have Sinned

The other day, I curled up on my couch and watched Morgan Spurlock's famous McDonald's documentary, Supersize Me. Given my predilection for the Golden Arches, I'd been avoiding it for years and years, essentially doing the equivalent of sticking my fingers in my ears and yelling "blah blah blah I can't hear you."  I simply didn't want to know the effects of eating McDonald's at each meal for 30 days straight, which is exactly what Spurlock did. I didn't want to know that one of my favorite indulgences was really, really bad for me.

Now that I'm into clean living, though, I decided I'd give it a shot. And as the final credits rolled, I realized that my pre-diagnosis diet had been bad news for years. I realized that my behavior -- especially my diet -- had probably played a pretty significant role in my getting the gift nobody wants to get: "the cancer." 

Before last year, when I joined Educogym and dropped 30 pounds, I had struggled with my weight for years. I gained that "Freshman 15" while I was at Duke, and then I lost it, and then I gained 20 pounds, and lost it, and gained another 15, then lost it, and so on. The school year was for working my butt off in classes, not making time for regular and intense exercise, and eating and drinking whatever made me feel good. This college diet of mine included a pretty consistent amount of McDonald's, Chick Fil-A, hot wings, hush puppies, Toll House cookies, grilled cheese sandwiches, pizza, beer, wine, Jack Daniels, Everclear (ok, only freshman year at a few frat parties), Diet Coke, Zima (ok, only once), and sweet tea. It consisted of no vegetables to speak of, water only when I was dripping sweat after a pick-up basketball game, and only a few healthy meals a week.

My law school diet improved a bit, and my adult life diet was better than that, but still. Up until the moment I got sick last September, I had some pretty poor eating habits. I loved sugar. I still hit up McDonald's once every couple of weeks. I guzzled Diet Coke like it was going out of style. I improved my liquor selection to Johnny Walker Black and high-end wines but drank more than moderately at times. And I still hated veggies and scoffed at salad. In addition to my less than stellar eating habits, my law school and lawyer life were uber-stressful, jam-packed with obligations and deadlines and anxiety over proving myself in my classes and to my colleagues. I started to sleep less and worry more. In very busy times, exercise became totally non-existent. 

You get the picture. It wasn't pretty.

After watching Supersize Me, I realized that I'd been abusing my poor, tough body for years. I failed in treating my body like the temple that it is. I was so ignorant of the fact that, yes, the things I do every day will have an effect on my overall health, wellness, and lifespan. 

I tell people all the time that I'm glad that this whole cancer adventure happened to me at this time in my life. And it's so true. I'm young enough and strong enough to endure the chemo and the surgeries pretty well, to fight like hell, to keep up that youthful optimism, and to ultimately emerge victoriously from this hand-to-hand combat with this deadly disease. But I'm also grateful that I got my body's biggest, most dramatic wake-up call now because I would've continued being a jerk to myself into my 30s and 40s and 50s. I was wrong to harm my body, but those days are over...and not a moment too soon.

So forgive me, body. Continue to heal. Continue to thrive. From now on, I'm going to be the best owner ever. 

The Worst Day of My Life

No, it wasn't the day I learned of my diagnosis. I wouldn't even consider that day a "bad" day, if I'm being perfectly honest about it.

I'm talking about September 11, 2001.

I remember the day as if it was yesterday. I was a sophomore at Duke. My roommate, Rose, and I were slowly waking up and getting ready for our day. Not surprisingly, Rose was up and moving before I was and sat at her computer, checking her friends' AIM away messages. She gasped in horror when she read one of them and said, "What?! A plane flew into the World Trade Center?" 

We turned on the TV and, moments later, we watched as the second plane flew into the WTC. My heart sank. I couldn't believe what was happening, and I immediately felt sick knowing that many, many people were dead or dying. Minutes later, Will walked into our room with a stunned look on his face. He had learned of the news while in class, and rushed over to our dorm room afterwards. Our friends Katie and Adam came in moments later. Adam was in tears. I think we all were. 

We all knew, as did our nation, that life would never be the same. Our collective innocence was shattered that day, and our collective hearts were broken. And, truly, nothing has ever been the same.

Last night, President Obama delivered historic news: our military, while in pursuit of him, had killed the mastermind of 9/11, Osama bin Laden. 

All of those memories of 9/11 rushed back to my mind, and while I breathed a sigh of relief at the fact that we had stopped bin Laden, I prayed for the victims of that terrible tragedy. I prayed that this death would provide some closure and some peace -- a richer and less tortured life -- for those who suffered so much on that nightmarish day. The nightmare will never really be over, but it's my hope that 9/11 will feel like something that happened long ago: an old, scarred over wound instead of a fresh, bloody one. It's a lofty hope, but I'm still going to wish for it. 

And in marking this death, I hope that we all will remember how precious and powerful each of our lives is.

A Fresh, New Week

I consider Fridays to be the end of a chemo week. It's the last day I have ever experienced any side effects, and it's usually quite an easy one to get through. Yesterday's "Chemo Friday" was better than any other I've experienced in all ten rounds. I felt great, ate like a champ, and knew that by the weekend, I'd be back at full blast.  

Saturdays after chemo are as beautiful as a sunrise on a crisp, clear day. Any lingering headache or "chemo haze" has completely lifted, and in its wake is a full week filled with nothing but energy, plans for fun times, and awesomeness. I always feel, on these Saturdays, that I've made another huge step forward. I've conquered cancer yet again, and my body is officially ready to celebrate.

This weekend has plenty of celebration in store, though nothing radically out of the ordinary: going to a few open houses (I've got the fever for a house, though it may not happen for another year...but it may happen sooner than that!), taking Winston to the dog park, stocking up on groceries at Whole Foods, watching TV, working out, going dress shopping for an event next weekend, and going to the Dodger game with Will and my OMM  buds Tim and Michelle. It's a fun weekend, no doubt, but when you've been through what I've been through, it's practically divine. Soaking up the sun, singing along to the music on the radio, spending time with loved ones -- these are the best, most joyful parts of life. These are the daily celebrations that we all have an opportunity to be a part of. And truly, this is the gift of life.

 I've got a week jam-packed with fun and games -- a fresh, new week that promises to enrich my mind, spirit, and body. I bet you've got one of those coming up, too. You just have to find it.

A Winning Streak

Another great day with no discernible chemo side effects. Bowels remained in tip top shape, headache and/or queasy feeling was nowhere in sight, appetite was at full strength, and if you think I had any fatigue, you wouldn't have known it during my basketball game tonight.

Today marked one of my proudest moments during this cancer-killing adventure. On this fourth day since chemo, a day usually reserved for taking it slow and nursing a headache, I played a full game of full court basketball.

I ran up and down the court, only taking a 3 minute break during the whole game. I felt more comfortable on the court today and played much more aggressively, on defense and offense. I only made one shot today (a long two pointer that would've been a three had my toe not been on the line), but all the others I took were right on line, so I know I'm just a couple of games away from a breakout performance. Our game went down to the wire, and after a gritty two minutes of overtime, we won by two points. It felt awesome to contribute to that win and to walk out of the gym, sweaty and rejuvenated. I had a feeling that hoops would help me get through this last bit of chemo, and my beloved sport truly has.

Before my season started, I promised my three nurses that I'd inform practically everyone in the gym about the port in my chest so that everyone would ease up on me and be careful when guarding me. But before my first game and before tonight's, I just couldn't bring myself to do it. I don't want to show the other team or the refs that I'm different, weaker, or more fragile than anyone else. I don't want special treatment. I want to be just like every other athlete out on the court. Tonight, I was just that. Nobody in the gym could have guessed that I had the port, the huge incision scar, or chemotherapy treatment earlier this week. And that's just the way I like it.