Fake Boobs, Lipstick, and Stretching Myself

I'm about to work on the next video and realized I haven't shared with you this last one. Inching toward present time.... More of my videos here.

Things are happening!

Gifts for my Spark*Letter subscribers.
More on this (coming soon)
at LifeCraft (my art/design blog).

Between the books I'm writing, graphic design work for clients, the garden, the dog, and my over-the-top need to spend long hours on a bicycle (Jim and I rode 114 miles together yesterday—7.5 hours in the saddle—plus I went out for another 35 this morning) I'm busy, to say the least. I also started my Spark*Letter newsletter, the first issue of which was far more enthusiastically received than I dared imagine, which makes me eager to write the next one. Which is awesome. I'm inspired to inspire. What could be better?

Perhaps the biggest news is that I have a new job in the fall, teaching graphic design at a nearby university. I'm sure my feelings will change once I get into preparing my syllabus (I plan to start this week) but at the moment, I'll admit it—I'm scared! What if my students hate me? What if I'm dreadfully boring and can't get them to engage? What if I say something mean by mistake? It's not that I haven't taught before and done just fine. But in the past, I wasn't scared like this. Then again, I want to connect with and inspire and serve my students in a way I haven't before. It's going to be a stretch.

I'm convinced this is a good kind of scared, jumping off the high-dive kind of scared, expanding the parameters of who I am kind of scared.

I'm also planning to wear my prosthetic when I teach.

This was a difficult decision, still subject to change.

It's coming up on four years since my mastectomy. I didn't even consider reconstructive surgery (though the surgeon who did my mastectomy worried I'd regret the decision and made me promise to at least talk to the plastic surgeon—I never got around to it). In all this time, I haven't felt the slightest regret. I've worn my prosthetic breast in public for exactly one hour.

I like being my authentic self in the world. I've never been the can't-leave-the-house-without-lipstick kind of girl. In fact, I've never been able to leave the house with lipstick. I feel increasingly ridiculous in makeup, haven't worn any in years. I rarely shave. I feel so privileged to see how, to the people who know and care about me, my hairy legs and lopsided chest matter not in the least. And I'm constantly surprised and touched by strangers who are not repelled by my body. I wish all women had the opportunity to see that their true selves are just fine. We're all so tortured by the beautification industry exploiting and aggravating our insecurities to the point that we're convinced we're intolerably unattractive.

If we're ashamed of our bodies, no wonder we struggle to show our minds!

Don't get me wrong. I'm not immune to this conditioning. I notice people's reactions to my asymmetry. I'm vigilant around strangers. I hate when I'm caught off-guard, talking to someone who is unable to pay attention to my words, they're so busy frowning in confusion as they stare at my chest, trying to comprehend the enigma of my torso. (Come to think of it, this feels less bad than when I'd catch someone staring at my chest back in the day when I had two breasts. It's just that this new kind of staring happens more often.)

I don't want to deal with that while I'm standing in front of a classroom. I don't want to distract my students from the work at hand. I don't want to distract myself wondering if my body is a distraction. It's probably no big deal either way, but I'm ready to try a change of pace.

Just don't expect me to put on lipstick.

Big Decisions

#142, My latest on Youtube:
Poodle Knows Best

There's an energy in this week's work that reminds me of spring cleaning. Except the only thing I'm cleaning up is the clutter in my mind, on my To Do list, and on my desk. I've posted a new video diary, a new Salad Diary, and now a new post here. I just wrapped up a website update project for a client, a logo design for another. I'm doing my taxes. I'm paying my bills. I'm working through my inboxes, both paper and email.

My goal is to pull myself up out of the deluge of rote tasks to a point where I can press pause with confidence, knowing there is nothing crucial hanging out in the wind. And then I'm going to take a day for myself. I'll go for a swim. I'll go for a long walk in the woods. Millie will come along for that, romping through patches of wet snow, sniffing clumps of rotting leaves, tugging at my pant leg and nosing at my coat pocket for treats and tennis balls. Eventually she'll run off after a sound or a scent, and I will be free to breathe, to think, to notice that I am alive and not inextricably tied to a keyboard and a screen.

And then I'll take myself out to lunch, some place comfortable, some place with excellent herbal tea, where I'll sit for a long while with a journal and a pen.

And then I'm going to make some big decisions about what comes next.

I'll keep you posted.

Escape to NYC

Enjoy!

More of my videos here.

Shifting

The bright side. More of my videos here.

I haven't been much of a blogger lately. I haven't been writing. I haven't been posting news of my latest videos, at least not promptly. And lately, I'm not even making as many videos.

So what's going on?

Simply put, my energy is shifting.

I plan to fill you in, but in the meantime, I plan to catch you up. We'll start with this video - hope you enjoy.

Cheater

Dear readers, I have a confession to make. I've been cheating on you with another blog. I don't mean Life Craft, my long-time art blog. I've been open about that relationship, and to be honest, I've been neglecting it. Not my video-blog on Youtube, which I have been sharing here as well. (Have you seen the Ironman 70.3 video yet, by the way? There's a suprise ending.)

From the Salad Diaries: Barbequed Tempeh Salad

The truth is I have a brand new blog. I'm not sure why I haven't mentioned it, but today I'm coming clean.

Once a week for a month now I've been sneaking over to SaladDiaries.com and posting recipes and healthy tips and a big bowl of something crunchy and colorful and fresh - mostly vegan but not strictly so, and gluten-free.

It's my readers here who encouraged me to take my food passion and knowledge more seriously. So I'm sharing as I go along, working one dish at a time toward an actual in-your-hands cookbook. Let me know what you think!

Want to give someone you love a healthy, memorable treat?
This might be just the ticket! Only $3.50. Available here.

While I'm at it, I should also confess that I'm revamping my home-base website to better share my artwork and all that I'm doing online and otherwise. There's a gift shop there, and if you're really amped up about salads (like I am) you can get one of my designer gift certificates to give a friend, good for one "huge salad with your favorite dressing."

Okay. I feel better now.

To Be or Not To Be

Ironman drama! For the latest on my cancer scare drama, see the previous post. More of my videos here.

To the Perimeter

During those long training hours leading up to my Ironman 70.3, my mind wandered far and wide, cycling through the To Do list, my plans for the evening and weeks to come, the status of my relationships, all the way out to the perimeters of wildest dream and deepest fears. I had moments of confidence that breast cancer was firmly in the past and I will live a long healthy life. And I had moments of dark foreboding in which I worried that as soon as I had the triathlon behind me and faced the upcoming round of cancer-related checkups, I would be thrown back into fighting for my life.

Right now I don't know what I'm up against, but I do know the coast is not clear. The first red flag came in the form of slightly out of whack blood test result. I got a call from the oncology nurse following my every-three-month check-up saying "Nothing to worry about" but I should re-test in six (now four) weeks.

The second red flag came yesterday.

Because I take Tamoxifen, I see a gynecologist every six months for an ultrasound of my uterus. This drug makes a bigger difference to my survival chances after breast cancer than chemo and radiation combined. Unfortunately, it can also cause endometrial cancer. (FYI: The endometrium is the lining to the uterus.) Mine, as it turns out, is quite a bit thicker than it was six months ago. "Probably polyps," says the doctor, which will require surgery, but nothing compared to the hysterectomy I'd be facing if it turns out to be cancer.

On Monday I'll undergo a sonohysterogram, which is like a souped up ultrasound in which they squirt saline solution up into the uterus through the cervix. I've had one before, back in the miscarriage days. It's a crampy, uncomfortable affair, and like all such through-the-cervix things, reminiscent of an abortion procedure, a traumatic association for me.

But I will be glad to have more information.

At least I hope I will be glad.

Behind the Scenes

I'm a little shy about this video because I'm sharing some very rough musical composition of my own, as well as a taste of the drama leading up to my half-ironman race. But I must say, I'm having more and more fun making these videos, and putting more and more of myself into them. I hope you're enjoying the results! More of my videos here.

The Joys and Perils of Love and Lobster

Had a lot of fun making this video. Check out the romantic drama. More of my videos here.

Into the Sunrise

The morning of the race, we (Jim and I, my mother, and a lot of nervous and excited people in wetsuits) walked down the beach to the starting line just as the sun was rising. Couldn't have asked for a more beautiful beginning. Thanks Mom, for the photos!

In the past week I've had three major milestones: (1) a reception for my solo art show, (2) my first half-ironman 70.3-mile triathlon, and (3) a once-over by my faithful oncologist, scouting as she does every few months, hoping not to find signs of the return of my arch-nemesis, breast cancer.

Briefly, a report on each:

(1) The art show reception went by in a happy but painful blur, which is to say, I was proud of the work, glad about the turnout and the enthusiastic response, and, especially toward the end of the evening, distracted by terrible lower back pain. Finally I excused myself and headed for home, worrying all the way, as I had over the last few weeks, that my back was going to make impossible the half-ironman I'd been working toward so hard and for so long.

Before the race began there were repeated announcements encouraging racers who were uncomfortable in big waves to skip the swim. I feel so lucky that I had plenty of opportunities growing up to play in the ocean. I was not worried about the surf.

(2) Two mornings later, Jim and I were up at four in our motel room, and I was excited. My back wasn't perfect, but since my only goal was to complete the event in under seven hours and have fun doing it, I was optimistic that I'd make it through. And though I did have pain on the bike, overall, the experience was a very pleasant surprise. I was actually having fun, and I felt strong throughout. And I finished under SIX hours with a time which, I later learned, was good enough to earn me third place in my age group, and was just five minutes shy of qualifying to compete at Nationals! Though sore and still recovering five days later, I am nothing but pleased with the experience, and already thinking I may want to do this event again next year.

At the finish. My time: 5:50.08.

(3) Speaking of next year, there's nothing like a cancer check-up to put a damper on any long term planning, nothing more humbling than an every-few-month reminder that not a single day is guaranteed in this life. But luckily there were no suspicious lumps or bumps this time around. Blood test results aren't in yet, but barring any red flags prompting a call back to the cancer center, I am planning to savor every minute of the days ahead of me that I don't have to fight for, however many I am allotted. And if the time comes that I have to fight, I will do my best to savor that battle as well.

On the podium with my medal and certificate. I was very surprised to find myself there!

Happy Birthday Millie!

COUNTDOWN
In four days: art show reception.
In six days: 70-mile triathlon.

Millie is feeling blue - in this video, I figure out why.
Also, guest musician Alex Beroza is AWESOME. I had fun making kaleidoscopic special effects to go accompany the track:
"Art Now" by Alex (feat. Snowflake)
http://ccmixter.org/files/AlexBeroza/30344
is licensed under a Creative Commons license:
http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0/

Today was Millie's third birthday. Time flies when you love your pooch.

Taper Madness

More of my videos here.

I'm assuming my current condition is common in the world of first-time long-distance racers of all stripes, especially those, like me, who suddenly have an injury and can't get on the bike at all let alone ride the shortened distances prescribed during the final "taper" phase of training. As I count down the last remaining days before my Ironman 70.3-mile race, I am struggling with an excess of pent-up energy and a newly strained back that makes it difficult for me to sit upright for more than a few minutes at a stretch. I can stand and walk comfortably, I can run, I can swim, and I can get myself to and from the chiropractor and the massage therapist, but in between these activities I am anxious and jumpy and missing the bike, and hoping most fervently that my darn back feels better in time!

Of course, as usual, I will keep you posted.

In the meantime, check out the latest installment of the vlog above, incuding Jim's vegan gluten-free birthday dinner as well as some bike racing and cute dog action.

Small Things are Big

I'm not talking about small complaints, though they tend to be the tips of icebergs and perhaps worth excavating. When I say small things are big, I'm talking about small pleasures, small blessings, small triumphs. One doesn't need an award ceremony and a plaque to commemorate the good things in life. (ps. speaking of small things, scroll below the video for my low-tech energy snack.)

My latest video diary in which it dawns on me - I will know I survived cancer when my dog licks me to death. More of my videos here.

Grapes and walnuts - my low-tech (and fresh) energy bar snack.

Platinum Day, Revisited

A few weeks ago I wrote Platinum Day, a post about my first Olympic distance triathlon (about half the distance I will do at September's Ironman 70.3 and twice what I'd done in the past.) Now you can watch all the action.

More of my videos here.

Crunch Time

Sorry for the lack of blogging lately, between training for the half-ironman coming up oh so very soon on September 9th and my solo show at Silver Circle Gallery, I am swamped. BUT somehow I'm managing to keep up with the video diaries! Enjoy these latest two...

Among other things: Me having a moment, Millie having a hilarious meltdown, and my exciting new toy.

A graduation, a reunion, great goal setting advice, and a decadent dessert to remember. More of my videos here.

Triathlons are Funny

If you ever wondered what it takes to do a triathlon, this video gives you the hilarious behind-the-scenes low-down. More of my videos here.

Millie Rocks

The Great Wetsuit Fail - Check out Millie's first single! More of my videos here.

Milestones

The invention of a new word (flabbergaseous), cancer treatment milestones, and Millie the recording artist. More of my videos here.

Platinum Day

Today I raced my first ever Olympic distance triathlon. Some good advice (thank you D) led me to approach the event with a handful of goals rather than one make-it-or-break-it definition of success. My Gold-medal goal was to finish in under 3 hours 15 minutes; Silver, to complete the whole thing feeling strong throughout, no matter what the time; and Bronze, to finish in under 3 hours 30 minutes, even if I crossed the line delirious and staggering. Book-ending these goals were two outliers: first, my secret Platinum goal - to finish in under 3 hours. And on the other end of the spectrum, the simple hope that I didn't crash my bike, get a flat tire, or cramp up on the run.

In order to finish in under three hours I believed I would need to complete the mile-long swim in under 30 minutes (it took me 32) and the hilly 26-mile bike course with an average speed close to 20 miles per hour (I didn't quite make 18.) By the end of the bike leg, I was tired and discouraged, afraid I wouldn't have enough energy for the run. I consoled myself with the fact that I'd survived without a flat, without a crash. As I shucked my helmet and bike shoes and slipped into my running shoes, I noted that Jim was right there cheering me on regardless, happy and exuberant no matter what the clock had to say about it. Which reminded me that I am enough, that when it comes right down to it, achievement isn't the point, that it is amazing that I am doing this at all, that I am one of the lucky ones with a body, at age 42, able to do this at all. Who cares what my time is?

For the first time all morning, I was racing with a smile on my face.

The six-mile run was comprised of two out-and-back repeats, descending and then climbing the same long hill. Since even when fresh I generally don't run more than 11-minute miles on my own, I figured it would take me an hour and fifteen minutes to complete the run.

But I was wrong.

Cheering on friends as we passed each other along the way, I somehow managed the run in less than an hour, finishing the race – to my shock and delight – with a time of 2:57.16.

Icing on the cake. It absolutely made my day.

On top of that, I discovered soon after, I had registered as an "Athena." Since I weigh a bit more than 160 pounds I qualify for this special class of athlete, (the male equivalent is "Clydesdale" with a weight minimum of 200). Of all the Athenas, I came in second-fastest. So in addition to my personal Platinum, I also got my name announced, a round of applause, and an actual hunk of metal to call my own!

And then, best of all, I met Karen Newman, a breast cancer survivor and world-class triathlete whom I had just learned about last week. Just a few days ago I was watching her interviewed on national television for her triathlon success during chemotherapy. She is the first woman I've ever met in the flesh who, like me, did triathlons during cancer treatment, who, like me, goes out into the wide world without a fake breast to disguise her mastectomy, who, like me, is active and athletic and also has lymphedema. We compared arms, we compared chests, we compared stories, and when I walked away from that conversation, I felt like I'd had a moment of respite from a certain loneliness and vigilance about the reactions and judgments of others.

To oversimplify the point, when you are the only one you know meeting a particular set of challenges in a certain unusual way, it's not easy.

Meeting someone else walking the same path? It helps.

And it made my day all over again.

Go

This is it. The decision gets made here. Plus cute poodleness and overworking a painting. More of my videos here.

This weekend, between triathlon training obligations and the resulting never-ending laundry pile, I made a quick drive up to Massachusetts to attended a reunion with college friends I hadn't seen in over twenty years. It's not the first time I went to something like this and had my mind ever so slightly blown by the experience.

Part of it was walking around the rural campus that at one time had felt so new and vast. Somehow, over the years, it has contracted. The buildings now looked shabby, smaller, and closer together. I felt like I was touring an aged movie set. It was as if that time in my life was a story that the me of today did not live.

Thinking back to my short time there (I lasted two difficult years at Hampshire before walking away from college entirely for over a decade), I felt fragile, timid, alone, and insignificant, somewhat invisible, only marginally likeable. The surprise I felt this weekend when people I wasn't sure would even remember me greeted me with gusto made me notice that I still, on some level, carry that expectation that I am a marginal being.

But this is changing.

I spotted an old neighbor in the crowd, sporting the same big smile that warmed my shivering heart in the old days. Even so, I was always so timid around him, as if that warmth were not really meant for me, or if I let it show that I was lonely, it would brand me as unworthy of love. Even now, I wasn't sure he'd remember me. But a second later he spotted me and cried out, "Amy!" smiling wide and opening his arms for a hug. As I stepped into that hug it felt like a thin layer of glass shattered and fell away from my body.

When presented with the opportunity to revisit your past, I urge you to go. Especially if it wasn't an unequivocally wonderful time. It is so good to realize that the bad stuff is over and maybe, actually, wasn't exactly as bad as it seemed.