Light The Night Goes Purple by Jessica Reijmer

TNT Mentor Nicola with Mary, Jessie and Whitney.

Working for The Leukemia & Lymphoma Society, I get an insiders view of each of our unique campaigns that play a crucial role in our mission of finding a cure and improving the quality of life for patients and their families. As a recent addition to our Light The Night department, my role is to encourage and teach participants on how to raise funds for blood cancer research and patient services programs every day, but I have never actually fundraised for anything myself.


When I was first approached about joining the TNT Disney Princess Half Marathon Team, I thought hmm maybe, but then I asked the crucial question, “Exactly how long is a half marathon?” In my mind I was thinking 6 or 8 miles, but after hearing 13.1 miles, my mind was made up or so I thought. Not being an athlete and despising even the thought of running; my immediate answer was “NO WAY JOSE!” Even after the peer pressure from my fellow co-workers, I stood firm in my decision. It was not until a meeting with the mother of our 2010 Light The Night Honored Hero, Jordan, that I began to change my mind. I thought of Jordan and every other person I have met throughout my journey at LLS. I’ve heard so many stories since I began my career at LLS; stories of hope and inspiration, stories of tremendous faith and strength, but also stories of loss and grief. Some fight and lose, but others battle and come out victorious.

On Saturday, November 13th at approximately 2pm, I decided to sign my name on the dotted line and run for a cause. Although I was determined to finish, my mind was heavily filled with self doubt. Reaching the fundraising minimum of $2,800 seemed like a very lofty goal. So let’s face it, I was really nervous. But I felt like I needed to do this. I desperately wanted to show my support for the mission and prove to myself that I could stick to my guns and finish. That was nearly 3 months ago. Today, I can tell you that because of the support of my family, friends, coworkers, coaches, my team and a few complete strangers, I have reached my fundraising goal. Not only have I reached it, I have actually increased it twice and set a new goal, which I plan to exceed!

The TNT Disney Princess Half Marathon team

Last Saturday at our GTS, I ran 12 miles for the first time in my life! Shortly afterwards I called my Mom with both tears and an enormous sense of pride. Never in a million years would I ever have thought that I could accomplish this task, but as I struggled and huffed and puffed up the hills in the cold, I remembered why I was doing this, not just for me, but for every single person who has been affected by cancer. I didn’t let my mind get the best of me! It has definitely not been an easy road. At times I swear I might have become a hypochondriac, name an injury and I have overcome it while training. I have cried, complained and not been able to move on numerous occasions. I have persevered and now I am almost at the finish line!

I have met some of the most amazing people since beginning my journey with Team In Training. This experience has touched me inside and out and opened my eyes to life’s possibilities. I could not have done it without my team and I am so excited to run in the Disney Princess Half Marathon on February 27, 2011. While I can’t say that I have fallen in love with running, I can say that I will never forget this experience and look forward to participating in future TNT events!

Jessica Reijmer, Mary Martin and Whitney Schaffner are all LLS staff that normally work on The Light The Night Walk every year. For a few months, they have also dedicated themselves to furthering our Mission by participating with Team In Training in the 2011 Disney Princess Half Marathon. Jessie, Mary and Whitney, we are so proud of you! Good luck at Disney and Go Team!

Surviving and Thriving by Dan Gennari

Dan and his friend, Joe

It was March 16, 2010, and I was panting like a German Shepherd on a hot July day, but I was standing straight up, at the top of a snow covered mountain in Colorado. Approximately 6 months before, I was seated in a big recliner, a clear tube running from an IV bag into my chest port and wondering if I would ever enjoy skiing the way I always had after 16 doses of bleomycin and other toxic chemo drugs had been pumped into my veins. I had followed my two friends off the top of the chairlift as they unclipped their skis and began hiking to the peak at around 13,000 feet. The climb took about 20 minutes but felt like hours to me. After pausing a few minutes to catch my breath and take a few pictures of the moment, we all clipped back into our bindings and plowed into the powder of the open bowl, and then the glade of trees. It was a liberating experience for me.


That was when I knew, or thought I knew that I could overcome the evils of cancer and continue to live a thriving life. I knew that despite the things I had lost and the pain I had suffered, Hodgkins Lymphoma was only a part of my life and that I still had unlimited potential to succeed in pursuing my dreams. I also knew then, that it was time I responded to one of those numerous purple brochures and postcards hitting my mailbox and trying to recruit me for Team In Training. That day on the mountain renewed my confidence in myself and my body and I was ready to take on the world. Before I would get that chance though, I would have to take on cancer once again.

After only an eight month break, scans revealed that my mediastinal mass was growing aggressively, and my doctor recommended beginning salvage treatment in preparation of a stem cell transplant. I was devastated that I would not get to train for the century ride, because I think I wanted it for myself, as much as I wanted to help the Society. I wanted to validate the feeling of health and recovery that I felt on the mountain in March. I had already started my fundraising, and decided I would go ride with the TNT team on their first cycling ride of the summer, even though I knew it would be my only ride with them.

Although my memory of that afternoon high in the Rockies is as vivid as if it happened yesterday, the summer that followed is a fuzzy patchwork of recollected moments and feelings. I was in and out of the hospital several times, and visited the clinic almost daily from June through August. I finally completed my stem cell transplant process in mid September and checked out of the hospital for the last time.

I got through my first 100 days post transplant with several colds and a brush with pneumonia, and I am starting to feel good again. I started to ride my bike at the tail end of December and joined the TNT Georgia Chapter once again and will be training for the America's Most Beautiful Bicycle Ride in Lake Tahoe this June.

Throughout my 2 year cancer experience, I have received an incredible outpouring of goodwill from friends, colleagues, family, neighbors and even strangers. So, with the fundraising minimums of TNT looming, I am hesitant to once again ask for help from those who have already done so much for me. Instead, I have partnered with The Ski Channel, to premier their documentary, "The Story" in Alpharetta (an Atlanta suburb).

The film will be shown on February 17, at Studio Movie Grill and tickets cost $25.00 per person. The $25.00 ticket gets you admission to the movie, food and drinks, and benefits The Leukemia & Lymphoma Society. If you or someone you know are interested in supporting my fundraising for the Society, please link to the ticket sales portal through my blog site, http://www.dangennari.com/. If you cannot attend the film, it is also possible to make a direct TNT donation through that website link.

Dan Gennari is riding with TNT for the 2011 America's Most Beautiful Bike Ride at Lake Tahoe, NV this coming June. Dan, you inspire us and thank you for sharing your story! TNT'ers, please support "The Story" movie screening on February 17th.

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.