Pulitzer Prize?

That, dear readers, is known as a Teaser Title. You glance down the page and perhaps think, HOLY SH&^ is Welcome to the Cancer Club up for the Pulitzer Prize?

No, it isn't. 

Yet.


But, there is a connection to literature's top honor. Next Thursday night, October 6th, the author of the 2011 Pulitzer Prize winning book The Emperor of All Maladies: A Biography of Cancer is appearing at the Gwinnett Center. Eagle Eye bookstore is the official bookseller for the event, and they will have copies of my book available that night alongside Emperor.

"Here we have the 2011 Pulitzer Prize winning book, and for those of you looking for something you can read in the bathroom, we have this other book!"

Atlanta folks, the talk by the author should be a good one. I'll be there and I hope you'll join me!

Running on Water

I just mentioned to Marcie that a change in the itinerary for this weekend means I will be in Seattle on Saturday and will have time to run there in Sunday morning. 

I used to travel frequently to the Emerald City and I loved going for a run from my downtown hotel along the water. But what I just said to Marcie was that I was planning to go for a Run On The Water, you know, like this guy -->

Atlanta Folks: Mark Your Calendars

When: Saturday October 29 at 3:30
What: Appearance and Book Signing
Where: Eagle Eye Bookshops, 2076 North Decatur Road, Decatur, GA 30033 (in the Kinko's Shopping Center at Clairmont and N. Decatur)
Who: Me and (I'm hoping) a couple dozen of the coolest people I know 


That's right, somebody who makes a living selling books is letting me have a little gathering in their place of business. Go figure!


I wanted to get the word out before they realized their terrible mistake. So please use the comments to make it look like lots of people are coming. That way they can't back out!

Live from the Chemo Room 12

I arrived just as the clouds began to break here in Johns Creek. Omen?

Could be. Dr. Z wants me to get a scan in a few weeks, and may keep me off the oral chemo for even longer. That means the hand and foot syndrome should continue to improve and there won't be anything new to screw up my GI tract.

It's a full house today in the chemo room. A guy I met last time is here. I'm calling him Paulie Walnuts, because he looks and sounds like a Sopranos character. It looks like he's about the roll out of here, probably grabbing some gabbagool on the way home. Cannoli would be good too.

There's also E, so named because he is obviously a Dale Earnhardt fan. He's also an Alabama man, so I know avid blog reader Sandy P. would like him. It's amazing what you can tell about a person from the T-shirt and baseball hat they wear.

Uncle Fester is here too, along with Joan Collins. Cliff Huxtable is quietly reading a magazine. Mercedes from Glee is intently watching The Doctors on TV, where they are, for some reason, helping a group of moms with a lingerie makeover. Not that there's anything wrong with that.


Oh, I should also mention that my recent post Ooh That Smell is getting a lot of play on LinkedIn in the Livestrong and American Cancer Society Forums. I posted a link to the post with the provocative question, "Do Smokers Deserve the Same Empathy as Other Cancer Patients?" Needless to say there are passionate responses to that one from many different perspectives. Want to join the conversation? Hit

http://tinyurl.com/linked-acs 


or


http://tinyurl.com/linked-liv

Today, I consider myself the luckiest man...

You know the speech. Even though Lou was stricken with a disease so awful they named it after him, he was feeling very lucky that day.

I too am lucky, and not just because I'm Kickin' Cancer's Butt, or because Marcie still hasn't realized what a questionable call she made back in '92 when she said yes. Today I'm feeling lucky because I just won another road trip to a Falcons game thanks to local radio station 790 The Zone. We won't be on the team plane this time, and no pre-game sideline passes, but Earnie and I will be heading to Seattle where I hope to break my streak of one huge blowout loss and cheer the Falcons on to victory!

The last time Earnie and I attended a sporting event together that didn't feature our kids, we saw Michael Johnson break the world record in the 200 during the 1996 Olympics. I'd settle for a 200-yard rushing day from Michael Turner this time.

Anybody want to help me explain to my kids why they (again) can't join me?

The Other SIde of Butt-Kickin'

As you know, I like to write about victories big and small in my fight with cancer. Clean scan? Blog it! Able to run longer than I have in a year? Facebook, baby! Normal bowel movements 3 days in row? Um, I'll let you know when it happens.

But in life, some games are zero-sum: for each winner, there must be a loser. And being a loser stinks. I don't mean the kind of loser who gets Slurpeed on Glee. No, I mean grown men, really grown men, after they get humiliated on the gridiron.

You see, I had the great pleasure of flying to and from Chicago on the Falcons' charter last weekend thanks to one of their sponsors whom I won't name because I'm not sure they want me to disclose that they do these trips for fear of pissing off their less-favorite customers. Actually, I've referred them some business and they responded with this very cool trip.

The Northbound trip on Saturday was great, seeing all these superstars in their suits and ties, although I suspect there must be some weight limit to that requirement because a few of the O-line guys had on open collar shirts and no jackets. I was about to tell Sam Baker to suit up, but I feared he might eat me if I did. Speaking of eating, the rookies are required to bring aboard food at the request of the veterans. Sure enough, here was Julio Jones toting a case of Chick-fil-A's to the back (the coaches sat in first class, the players had 2-3 seats apiece in the back cabin, and the sponsors and non-coaching staff were in the middle cabin of the 767).

Me @ Soldier Field Pre-Game

After a fun evening out, we settled in at the JW Marriott, the team hotel. Sunday morning we were treated to breakfast after the team finished their pre-game meal. Never in my life have I seen such quantities and variety of food for an 8:00 a.m. meal for 53 people. Smoothie stations, pasta bar, sandwich bar, salads, omelettes to order, and a 30-foot long buffet full of traditional breakfast items like pancakes, bacon, and grits.  It was ridiculous.

Then our police escort helped our bus get to the stadium, where we were able to spend about an hour on the field during warm-ups. That's when we should've left. Unfortunately, that's when the Falcons seemingly left, as evidenced by the final score, 30-12 in favor of the home team, and it wasn't that close.

The plane ride back was a somber affair. I hardly heard any conversation from the back, let alone a laugh. Whatever Julio brought onboard this time, it was devoured in silent reflection by some very large, tired, and I suspect, embarrassed men.

Get some perspective, fellas. Given the choice, I'd take a loss like that over a loss in the cancer fight any day. Fortunately, it's not a choice I've faced so far.


Dammit Julio - I said extra pickles!

Ooh, that smell!

I'm getting blood drawn today at a different office of Dr. Z's practice. This is actually the location where I first met him 6 years ago, but he no longer practices here. It's also where my mom saw her oncologist 11 or 12 years ago.

There's a smell in this place that brings up a dilemma. It's not the familiar doctor's office aroma, that Lysol  and stale air combo you so often get when you walk through the doors for an early morning appointment. No, it's the dingy, yellow-brown lifelong smoker coughing odor that wafts here and makes me wonder: with so many people I know who got cancer through no fault of their own, how should I feel about those who knowingly engaged in risky behavior and are now suffering the predictable consequences?

Don't get me wrong. I'm not saying anyone deserves this. Check that, if you abuse children, you deserve to get lung cancer. But if you're that guy who thought smoking looked cool when you were 17, smoked though college and beyond, and next thing you know, you're a 65 year old with stage 3 lung cancer, do you deserve the same sympathy or empathy as the 38 year old yoga practicing, vegetarian mom of 3 who has rectal cancer and is racked with guilt because she might not see her youngest graduate from elementary school in 4 years?

See, cancer isn't always funny. But moments like this morning are few and far between for me. And for that, I am very thankful.

Live From the Chemo Room 11

Why Be Normal?

Why not?

Yes, I get to be normal for the next 6 weeks. Stop laughing, Marcie. Dr. Z wants me to stop taking my oral chemo for the next 6 weeks, which should give me a chance to get over my cold, rack up some running miles, and normalize my bowels. (TMI?) My blood-work showed some slightly low counts and when I described how I was feeling, Dr. Z. just said, "so let's take a break." 

Sounds good to me!

The folks here really liked the book, by the way. I was a little nervous about their reaction, but it was all smiles and back-pat's from the nurses, Dr. Z, and the lab techs. Phew!

Return of SuperMyles?

I was back on the track today with the OG Crew, which I recently pointed out on FB sounds like a gangsta rap group but isn't. They were zipping around doing 3 minute 800's (which is about 6 minute miles for those unfamiliar with track geometry), while I was sticking to their warm-up pace, more like 9 minute miles (you can do the conversion to 800's now if you'd like). The normally uber-fast Kate was jogging with me in her post-Hood-to-Coast recovery mode.

Just for fun, I decided to tag along with the zippers for a couple of 400's, and had respectable laps of 1:38 and 1:40, respectively. I always wanted to used respectable and respectively in the same sentence and now I have - twice. After another couple jogging laps, this time with Mary-Gay, I decided to see if my alter-ego SuperMyles was still available for duty. Back in the day, SuperMyles would start out with all the other runners, but then would kick in the booster rockets on the final turn to the amazement of most, including me.

SuperMyles was indeed available, and although he fired those boosters a bit too early, he was still able to coast home in a 1:27. That's somewhere in the high 5:40's pace per mile, and it felt really, really good.

SuperMyles may be coming soon to a track near you, weather and chemo permitting!

(Just for you, E)

PS - Love the Garmin Connect website.