Catchin' Up...again

My apologies for being MIA again for the past several days. You see, I took a little weekend trip to Georgia to go see my man and when I go out there I seem to forget what a computer is. Spending time with him becomes my top priority. Anyway, this weekend his base was hosting an air show, so I got to see lots of fast plans in action; twas very fun if you ask me!The Thunderbirds in action!

If only I had a video camera! This guy was doing flips, twists and flying upside down!

:) Good times. I'm surprised I'm smiling despite the yucky humidity!

This is where my airman works. Notice just how gigantic those computers are! I think someone needs to let the Air Force know that computers come in much smaller packages these days!

And this is the plane he flies on, called the JStar!

I have about 50 more pictures from my trip - all from the air show - so I'll hopefully get them on my photo blog very soon (as in later tonight, maybe).

Since I was gone on Friday I missed out on the Friday Poll, so let me just recap that and get a new poll up now.
It looks like we have a few die-hard tweeters, but the majority of you are "just saying no" to Twitter. I wish I could've done that, but unfortunately I do have an account; I just don't update it all that often. Personally I like Facebook more...

Moving on to other business of the morning. For this week's short poll I thought I'd take a cue from the recent Swine Flu scare and see if you're letting the H1N1 Flu get in the way of your life:

Swine Flu thoughts:
* I'm freaking out, man!
* This too shall pass
*Whatever
*Other

Whew! Okay, apology (check), air show (check), poll (check), mention the swine flu (check). Ah. I know what I'm forgetting....


As many of you know, to my family Cinco de Mayo is more than just a day to enjoy margaritas. It's the day my dad was diagnosed with cancer (click link for that post).

I hope, if you haven't already, you'll check out the little button to the right that says "Help Me Fight Cancer." And I hope even more that you'll donate something...anything. It's because of donations and research (and prayers) that my dad is still alive today. Some of the medicines he was taking during his treatment were outragiously priced, but thanks to the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society (and from people who donated money), they gave him a sort of scholarship, so we didn't have to pay $3,000 per dose - I kid you not.

So while everyone is out drinking Coronas and eating yummy fajitas and guacamole, I'll definitely be thinking about receiving that phone call from my mom four years ago today. I hope you all have a fantastic Cinco de Mayo, and I also hope that maybe when you dip your chip into that salsa you'll remember what today means to me and my family and maybe, just maybe (!), you'll come back to this post, click the link, and donate some money so other people can enjoy their families on holidays.

In The Clear

Fear can keep us up all night long, but faith makes one fine pillow. ~Philip Gulley

I'm sure most of you know the story of my dad's diagnosis with Non-Hodgkin's Lymphoma. He was diagnosed May 5, 2005, and that anniversary is coming up pretty fast. After you're diagnosed cancer, patients continue seeing an oncologist on a routine basis. First it's every couple weeks, then every month, then every three months, six months, and so on. Two days ago my dad went in for a six-month check up.

Before every visit he's a nervous wreck, which is understandable, and this visit was no different. Luckily the doc told him and my mom that he's still in remission - no sign of cancer or anything they need to be worried about. It's such a huge sigh of relief for all of us.

My thoughts and prayers go out to families who aren't receiving such great news, and I hope they have a fantastic support system in place for them.

My Story

If you're visiting from my TNT site, thank you and welcome! I want to share my reasons for running again with Team in Training:

It was a dark and rainy night (as it so often was in Britain) and I was well into my sixth month of studying abroad in Bournemouth, England, when my mom called from back home. Her tone of voice told me she wasn't calling to chit- chat about the weather.

Instead, she told me they found a large mass near my Papa's liver. The silence, emptiness and loneliness that hit me after that sentence was almost unbearable; it felt like my air was sucked out of lungs and someone punched me in the stomach. The rest of the conversation was a blur.

After hanging up with my mom I felt alone and isolated, and as the days and weeks flew by so did results from countless number of tests, which all came back inconclusive. My parents canceled their first trip overseas in order for my dad to take more tests to see if the tumor was cancerous.

On May 5, 2005, a month before my plane departed from London, my mom called me. My Papa was diagnosed with Non-Hodgkin�"s lymphoma, and would start chemotherapy immediately.

Chemotherapy and cancer. I tried my best to wrap my head around what was going on, and through hot tears streaming down my face I tried to give my mom the support I knew she needed from over the phone. The reality of what was going on made me realize it was time for my adventures and traveling to end. There were more important things to worry about back at home.

Emotions overtook my senses as I stepped onto American soil for the first time. I was anxious to see my friends who promised to meet me at the airport, and of course, to see my family. As I walked out of the security section I scanned the sea of heads for familiar faces. Instead of seeing any of my friends I spotted my dad walking towards me with open arms.

I stopped in the middle of the airport as he was walking towards me. Just from looking at him I could tell his first chemo treatment had already started taking a toll on him: he had lost a lot of weight, was using a walking stick, and his thick black hair was gone, replaced with a smooth bald surface. A few weeks later his eyebrows and eyelashes disappeared. The chemotherapy treatments took a toll on him both physically and emotionally, and changed me forever.

Now, four years later, my Papa is in remission and my hope is that families should ever have to go through this, but if it should ever happen, I hope they know there are organizations out there like LLS that will help them every step of the way. That is why I am doing this...to help pay it forward and get rid of cancer for good.

My Mission to Help Find a Cure

As I was typing the subject for this post I got a text message from a really good friend saying her step dad's cancer has spread to his stomach and liver. When I read that my stomach became twisted in knots, I could feel my eyes tear up, and the memories of when my dad was diagnosed

Living with cancer, whether you're a survivor, family member or friend is a sobering experience. The tribulations of day-to-day life just don't seem as important. It's something I don't wish upon anyone, and the fact that there are still people out there being diagnosed and losing their battle is just not okay with me.

I'm not a doctor or a scientist; I get queasy at the very thought of donating blood, and I don't think I could ever be as strong as those who are fighting that evil six letter word.

The only thing I can do is what my gut tells me to do. I may not be the fastest runner, but every time I put on those running shoes and trained for my previous half marathon I envisioned the pain and lack of strength my dad had while he was going through chemo. I imagined what it must have been like for my grandma to have a mastectomy to get rid of her breast cancer for the second time. I sympathize with every patient and empathize with family members and friends going through this hard time. If they were able to get up and out of bed day after day, then I can certainly run in their honor.

Cancer victims have it so much harder than anything going on in my life right now, which is why I'm committing myself to raise money again for the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society. It may seem like a daunting challenge to raise close to $4,000, especially in this economy, but it literally breaks my heart when I hear that someone close to me is going through this trial. Running the marathon (I'm doing a full marathon - 26.2 miles this time) is an after thought. If people are surviving every single day from this terrible disease then I can certainly bust my behind, get out there and make some money for them.

I actually didn't intend for this post to go in this direction today, but my heart is heavy right now and this is the only way I can express my thoughts. We pray every night that my dad's cancer will remain in remission and by asking for money I feel I'm at least doing a little something to help keep it gone forever.

I'm Running for a Cure and would love it if you could join me. came flooding back into my mind. People shouldn't hear news like that.