Keep Focused by Marie Ferrell

TNT coaches Ed and Marie Ferrell

Keep focused. You will hear it often but what does it mean? For me it use to be all about getting to the finish line, but lately it has changed. I have gotten much more confident in my running. There is no question that I will finish a race so now I can focus on bettering my time. After all, I have had a string of good (for me) half marathons including one where I fell down at mile four, got back up and finished just short of my best time.

So as I prepared for the Donna Half Marathon I had nothing to worry about, right? Wrong!! I was feeling a little sick on race morning, but I always get a little nervous so this was normal. I started out okay but as the miles progressed I felt more and more sick and weak. Was this just my head getting to me? Everyone must face the fact that at some time prior to or during a race your head is going to tell you that you can't do this. It lies! Maybe this was my only problem. Nope, my head was still telling me I could set a new pr. However, my body was telling me that if I ran one more step I was going to be sick. So I started walking. This was not at "Marie, the walk coach" pace but rather at "that lady you can't get around at the mall" pace. It is at this time focus becomes critical. You concentrate on getting past the next group of spectators, to get to the next water stop or maybe even to get up to that cute puppy so you can stop and pet it. In my case I began to think about Rutger Beke. Who is Rutger Beke you ask? He is an Ironman. For those of you who don't know about the Ironman Triathalon it is a 2.4 mile swim, a 112 mile bike ride and a full marathon. I think anyone who tries this is amazing and Beke is one of the best. He came into the 2007 Ironman World Championship confident. After all, he was wearing the number 4, denoting what place he had finished in the previous year's event. Race day proved to be very rough for many of the leaders. Several had to drop out, some throwing temper tantrums as they did so. Beke did well in both the swim and the bike and was in contention for a top finish. Then came the marathon and as he said his legs "just wouldn't fire". So he started walking. He was passed over and over again by "age group" runners and he accepted their encouragement graciously with a smile and a wave. One older lady passed him and encouraged him to run with her but he had to say "you are just to fast for me".

He kept his focus on the finish line and when he finished hours later than expected and in 188th place, the smile on his face looked much like it did in 2008 when he came in 3rd at the same event. My smile could have matched his on that Sunday. It would have been so easy to quit. I hadn't raised money to get to the race, no one was counting on me and at mile ten I passed my hotel. I finished, 43 minutes later than I planned, but I finished. Much like the people we run for, I didn't quit and compared to what they go through on a daily basis, this was easy. So focus on the finish line and much more importantly focus on why you are doing this. Remember one of my favorite phrases, "Run, Walk or Crawl. Just Finish!!!"

Marie Ferrell is a TNT alumna and coach. She first joined TNT in 2007 for the Country Music Marathon in honor of her sister Julie. TNT is a family affair for Marie. Her husband Ed is also a coach and she is currently coaching her nephew Dustin (Julie's son) for the 2011 Publix Georgia Marathon.

New Year Brings New Language by Dani

Dani and her daughter at the 2010 Light The Night Walk

Last year’s language was the jargon of doctors and hospitals. Even the joy of discovering we were once again pregnant was overshadowed by the fear of whether or not my body would be capable of handling the stress. Last year’s language was that of a soldier in the trenches; attempting to lighten the situation by looking up and saying “well at least the sun is out.” My words of last year were my saving grace that created a language that brought me catharsis and human connection.

I am grateful that we have the opportunity to change our voice and create new words, new language, and new life. I look towards this year so differently than I did the last. Last year I was scared of what stood before me. Our future was uncertain. This year I have no more answers than I did last year; nor guarantees of anything. What we have is hope, faith and a little good news to set us on our path.

As the New Year rolled in I was overwhelmed by emotion. I looked to my future and I saw my husband and I growing old together, two little children playing with one another, family dinners, date nights where Mike and I try not to talk about some cute thing the kids did but just cannot seem to refrain, scrapped knees, first bikes, broken bones, broken hearts, family pets, bedtime stories, family vacations, “five more minutes,” road trips, kindergarten, grade school, high school, college visits, caps and gowns, weddings and more babies. I looked to my future and I saw my loving husband by my side, my beautiful children, my family, my friends. I saw hope and joy. I did not see cancer. Over the last year and a half, I often wondered if there would ever be a time when cancer was not a thread that wove its way through my every thought. The moment finally came.

I am sure that in the months and years to come, as PET scans and blood tests are due, there will be a breath of fear that grazes my cheek like a soft breeze. However, in this moment I was not only cancer free but free of cancer. They say it takes the body a year to recover from chemotherapy. They do not pontificate on the time it takes one’s brain or soul to recover from the experience of cancer. This hope for the future was my first real indication the healing has truly begun. The fortuitous thoughts coupled with prenatal hormones were too much for one healing soul to bear and I laughed as the warm tears streamed down my cheeks. Entering the New Year with tears of joy; I can think of no better language.

Happy New Year to you all and I hope your 2011 is filled with the language of love, peace and laughter, thank you for your continued support and love.

Dani, a non-Hodgkin's Lymphoma survivor, was the 2010 Summer triathlon team Honored Hero. Thank you for sharing with us Dani. You are our inspiration!

What A Difference A Year Makes by Karen Cole

Karen Cole leaping for joy at the 2010 Nike Women's Marathon in San Francisco.

Like many of you, I had received those aspirational Team in Training brochures in the mail – the ones with pictures of triumphant athletes, proudly wearing their race numbers affixed to their purple Team jerseys. I remember thumbing through them thinking: these people just ran and biked a very large number of miles, yet they still look glowing and fabulous. Could I bottle this in a face cream, I wondered? I always just stacked those brochures in a “I’ll-get-to-that-one-day” pile.


Then that “one day” came suddenly last year in September, and I went digging through my pile. This time I was driven by a promise I wanted to make to my oldest and dearest friend. Evie was diagnosed with Hodgkin’s Lymphoma just a few short weeks before her wedding last October. Talk about the highest of highs, and the lowest of lows. For Evie’s bridal shower, the plan was to not give her gifts that we purchased, but instead give meaningful expressions or tokens of friendship and love. Driven by fear and a sense of helplessness for what to do, I decided that my gift to Evie was doing a race in her honor and raising money for LLS.

As I sit here writing, it dawns on me that this week marks my one year involvement with TNT. I saved my “Welcome to Team In Training” email and I recently opened it and a smile came across my face. The person who opened that email exactly a year ago was, lets just say, a little frightened wondering how the heck she was going to fundraise and run more than…well, to her mailbox. I remember driving home from the information meeting thinking, what have I done?! But the email I received the next day confirmed I had indeed signed myself up for my first race, the ING half marathon on March 21, 2010. It was official and in bold letters, so it was true.

Opening that same email today, I feel a huge sense of accomplishment and pride. Little did I know, I would actually run WAY past my mailbox and exceed my fundraising goals. My Team in Training journey this year includes completing three half marathons, one marathon and mentoring a team of new participants. Whew! Evie has been my inspiration through it all, propelling me farther than I thought was even possible. She’s still battling lymphoma, so I keep going for her putting good TNT vibes into the universe.

As the winter TNT season is winding down, and the participants I’m helping to mentor are achieving their goals, it’s hard to believe I was in their exact running shoes just a year ago. I was with my mentees at the ZOOMA half marathon at Chateau Elan a few weekends ago, and it was so awesome to see the excitement of race day through their eyes and all the hard work pay off. While I know to a lot of veteran TNTers, one year maybe isn’t a lot, but it feels like I’ve been wearing purple forever!

Well, a year later I am still sort of wondering about that miracle face cream – but on second thought…nah, I don’t need it. I’m wearing my own post-race glow.

Karen Cole has been busy with Team In Training in 2010 having finished the Nike Women's Marathon with the TEAM back in October and even more recently having acted as mentor for the ZOOMA Atlanta Half Marathon TEAM. As she puts it, it's almost as if she's been wearing purple forever. Follow her blog at http://www.teampurpletrain.blogspot.com/. Thanks Karen for sharing and for being a part of Team In Training!

I Can't Believe I Can Call Myself a Marathoner by Jenny Li

Jenny Li (left) and Sherrie Dougherty celebrate after crossing the finish line during the Nike Women's Marathon in San Francisco, Calif., on Sunday, October 17, 2010.
Photo: Laura Morton / Special to The Chronicle

As my breaths puff in and out of my tortured lungs, I think, "My legs are hurting; my shoulders are sore and this rain will not stop." But the people are cheering me on and I know, deep down that I will not give up. Because when I think back on the days I have trained for this moment—this fleeting, evanescent moment—I know that this was what I was meant to do, to finish this race strong.

To this day, I can’t believe I can call myself a marathoner—a title of less than one percent of the world's population can claim. Running the 26.2 miles of the Nike Women’s Marathon in San Francisco, California transformed me inside and out in four hours and thirty-nine minutes.

During the summer when I first began training, I was skeptical about my chances of finishing the race. When I was younger, my parents had insisted that I take tennis and karate lessons. This experience seemed to dilute my natural passion for sports. However, as I undertook the marathon training, I found that passion being created and my drive to succeed being restored. Now, I understand the difference between having to do something you are supposed to do and simply doing something that you love. No matter how hard, how painful, and how incredibly impossible that sport is, you will always want to keep going when you love it—when your heart is there. In all, it took six hard months of training, incredible guts, strict endurance, and swollen feet for me to reach the starting line.

Still, despite all I had done to prepare, I found it difficult to outrun my own vicious doubts. By the 13th mile, my lungs burning and my feet as heavy as ingots of lead, I began to question myself. Can I really do this? Will I be able to run another 13 miles? Suddenly, an image appeared in my head. It was of my close friend, Doris. She was a girl I had met in China who had suffered from Acute Promyelocytic Leukemia in 2009. She was the key reason I had signed up for the race. When I found out about Doris’ illness, I had felt so helpless. This terrible disease was slowly killing my friend in China while I was in Georgia unable to even see her. So as I struggled to confront my doubts, I realized that my race, my pain, and even my fears were not about me. They were about a friend I love and millions of other cancer victims. It was about the lives that were saved with the money that was donated by generous hearts. And with that, my feet and legs began to feel better—muscles pumping, heart throbbing with emotion. Ironically at that moment, my friend had saved me.

They say that a marathon is divided in halves: the first twenty miles and the last 6.2. Thoughts of Doris had revived my flagging spirits, but in the final 6.2 miles my flagging body became an issue all on its own. All I could do was keep moving. These miles were a blur. There were people who were cheering but I could not hear them. The volunteers handed out water but I could not even drink. The scene was moving fast and I did not know where I was going. My leaden head tilted up and the finish line was 50 feet away... 25 feet away... 10 feet away. Swoosh. All of sudden, I could hear cheering, but my eyes were still a blur. I touched my cheek to wipe off the sweat, only to realize there were tears streaming down my face.

The first thing I felt was pain. When you stop running, your muscles immediately condense and the lactic acid fills the muscles. I felt the pain in my legs first when I started walking. But then, it became worse. I felt the pain in my shoulders and in my feet and in my arms and in my back. For the first time, I felt the cold. And I felt the rain.

But even then, this whole experience from beginning to end was worth every ache in my entire body, every tear that was shed, and every bead of sweat that coursed down my face. In this unique and solitary moment I felt truly alive, filled with a universal energy. I knew that these moments of unimaginable bliss was what I wanted to experience again, and that I could infuse each moment of my life with this depth and power.

There is a saying that goes something like “Life is not measured by the number of breaths we take but by the moments that take our breaths away.” At that split second when I crossed that finish line, I genuinely and wholeheartedly experienced what that quote truly means. In those seconds, I knew I could do anything. I knew I could take on the world. And I knew that I would succeed.

Jenny Li joined thousands of other Team In Training participants from around the country at the 2010 Nike Women's Marathon to complete her first marathon. A High School Senior, Jenny wrote and submitted the essay above with her college applications. Great job Jenny and good luck!

The photo above appeared on www.sfgate.com on October 18, 2010 and is credited to Laura Morton.

Ironman 70.3 Augusta: Deke & Brittany Share Their TNT Experience

Deke Copenhaver is the mayor of Augusta and is set to do his first Team In Training event at the 2010 Ironman 70.3 Augusta. Deke draws his inspiration for TNT from two local boys in Augusta who are both dealing with leukemia.


Brittany Banker, a TNT alumnus since running her first event in 2008, is a cancer survivor and single mom. Now also an assistant coach with the TEAM, Brittany shares her recent Ironman Louisville finish experience.

It's Time to Ride by Julian Cowart

Coach Julian with his wife, Catherine,
and son, Lawrence.

“Daddy, it’s not wake up time. The sun is still asleep”, said my three year old, momentarily befuddling his intensely drowsy father. He was right, and sitting on the side of a strange bed in Peachtree City, I was overwhelmed by the urge to heed his advice. But a glance at the desk brought my jersey into focus, the Team In Training jersey soon to be on the backs of so many remarkable friends. It was time to ride.

I have had the good fortune to wake up next to my beautiful wife most mornings for the past six years as well. More mornings than I care to recall, however, the rail of hospital bed separated us as she fought through her latest treatment for Hodgkin’s lymphoma. But on the morning of August 29th we rose together, along with our son, to be a part of the Team In Training that has meant so much to us, that has raised, nationally, over $1,000,000,000 for blood cancer research.

After overwhelming the stunned breakfast steward at our hotel, the green and purple swarm rolled south, to East Coweta Middle School. Local and regional rides generally abound with warmth and energy, and the Wilson 100 proved an excellent example from the moment we were shepherded though our arrival by the multitude of volunteers. The team coalesced on our blue minivan, a mix of multi event veterans, century virgins, supporters, and one tricycling three year old. Our venerable coach called the team to order, and following the reading of “Close the Door When You Leave”, our traditional inspirational poem, we were off. As the team turned right and headed out for mile one, my son implored his mother to push him along with us on his tricycle. His mother later informed me of his immense disappointment when he could not keep up.

Our ride followed some roads southwest of Atlanta, roads we had seen in our training. As the miles passed by we settled into the pace groups forged over the season and passed the miles singing badly and telling bawdy jokes.

When hunger or thirst arose, we soon found ourselves under the care of locals wielding water and peanut butter sandwiches. After chattering along the chip seal from Greenville to Warm Springs, team members glared at the Warm Spring Wall that had proven such a formidable training foe, enjoyed the support of the Team In Training SAG stop, and turned for home. Enduring a torrential downpour at mile 65, a flat tire soon after (the changing of which was truly a team event), an uncooperative rear derailleur, and an unplanned extra hill climb, we powered through the closing miles of the ride. As made our last turn towards the finish, our first time participants moved alongside each other at the front of the pack, and we followed these newly minted century riders across the finish.

Barbeque, beverages, hugs and pictures closed our Wilson 100. Following my group’s arrival, our teammates rolled in to rousing cheers until our final participant, struggling through injury but unbowed, turned left into Coweta Middle School. She too was feted with hugs and pictures, testament to the enduring power of fellowship and support.

Close the Door When You Leave


I never asked you to visit ... at least I don't believe I did
Maybe...I don't know
It's so confusing


At any rate, you're a rude guest
You take my energy, rob my sleep, and with a stick
You swirl and distort my dreams


All right, you are here --- for now
But understand
There are two places that are forever off limits


You may not tread on my spirit
You may not occupy my soul


I have heard of your visits to others
I know the damage you leave in your path
The wanton disregard for innocence, value, and what some would call fairness


Also, I hear that laughter confuses you; that good foods make you feel bad, and
That nothing causes you more distress than an autumn sunset, the forever blue of a summer sky,
Or the unconditional radiance of a child's smile

Listen and understand
You might pilfer my closets, empty all the drawers, and trash my house
But there are two places forever off limits


You may not tread on my spirit
You may not occupy my soul


Do not mistake my nausea, weakness, and pain as signs of your victory
They are simply small dents in the armor I wear to fight you
Instead, look deeply into my eyes


They will once again remind you that there are two places forever off limits


You must not...


May not...


Will not tread on my spirit


You must not...


May not...


Will not occupy my soul

Copyright © 2000 by Michael Hayes Samuelson
Author of "Voices from the Edge: Life Lessons from the Cancer Community"
Longstreet Press, www.TheNationalCenter.com



Julian Cowart first joined Team In Training in 2005 and has completed almost a dozen events with the Team. Now a coach for the cycling program, Julian is leading the Team at the 2010 Six Gap Century Ride.

The People You Meet on the Way to the Finish Line by Bruce Scruggs

A few weeks ago, I had the privilege of being able to address the Atlanta TEAM at this season's All Sport GTS. One of the messages I hoped to convey was the all too often unrealized, sheer awesomeness of the group of people we train with every week. I've had the opportunity to be part of several TEAMs over the past two years, and I continue to be amazed by the people I have met, so, since public speaking isn't my forte', and some of you may not have been at the All Sport, I wanted to share this story with you again.

Bruce & cancer survivor, fellow
teammate, Mallory Chandler

It is difficult to tell much about someone when you first arrive at a Saturday morning run. You may be wearing the same TEAM jersey that many of them are also wearing, so it's hard to tell who's who. It may be a little intimidating waiting for the coach to address everyone; some of the people seem to know everyone and talk about upcoming races, while others are nervously anticipating the start of the run. But if you take a little time once the group gets started, and talk to one person, you will quickly realize you are in the presence of some of the most incredible people you will ever meet in your life!! Trust me, it happens to me several times every season, and it is not because they are all gifted runners (although you may meet some that have run over 100 marathons). They are incredible just because they are there, as are you, and you will help each other throughout the season (often without even knowing you're helping).

You won't know at first that they are lawyers, vice presidents of corporations, doctors and even celebrities. They won't tell you they have been participating and supporting The Leukemia & Lymphoma Society for over ten years, or they've been acknowledged nationally for their contributions, they're far too humble to boast. If you take the time however, you may find out one of them is an alumni in your college fraternity or sorority, or they just took a week off their job to travel across the country supporting a TEAM on the Race Across America. You may have an opportunity to hear they are participating because they lost a loved one at some point, or they participate because they can't cure the disease but they can run, so that's what they'll do. You might not even meet the person who inspires you "in person" at first, you may become friends with them because you saw their story on the TNT Georgia Facebook page, and became friends with them via the internet until you have an opportunity to meet them at an event.

I know this because every one of these has happened for me in the short time I have been on the TEAM, and each person I have met along the way to my finish line now have a special place in my life forever. So I urge you, take time to get to know someone each week at your GTS and you will be rewarded with relationships that will last a lifetime. By the way, if you are reading this blog, I now consider you my friend, and I hope to get a chance to talk to you sometime soon at a GTS or event to hear your story. Until then, Train, Endure, Achieve, Matter, and GO TEAM!!

Bruce Scruggs first joined Team In Training in 2009 and has quickly racked up several TNT events under his belt. Next up for Bruce, the 2010 Chicago Marathon.