Cancer Fitness: Exercise Programs for Patients and Survivors

Introduction: X Marks the Spot: A Personal Perspective on Cancer and Exercise February 13, 1988. The x-ray marked the spot -- non-Hodgkin's lymphoma. I heard the words and then couldn't take in the rest of what the doctor was telling me. As I gained a better understanding of what the diagnosis meant, I began to feel smaller and smaller as I pulled in with fright. My life was caving in, and I no longer felt like a free-spirited 24-year-old. I felt like the storm clouds had rushed in and were swirling around me and I was left blanketed in darkness. Alone, terrified, and confused, I was overwhelmed with decisions and emotion.Like a horse with blinders on, I methodically plodded on through my final semester of nursing classes, the blinders blocking out what was happening to my life. Class met consistently at 8 A.M. and clinical assignment days began at 7 A.M. The regimen provided a distraction from the storm clouds, the only time the darkness from the clouds would lift to swirl above my head -- though remaining an ominous presence that was always with me. In a deliberate effort to minimize my fears and cope with the diagnosis, I called my cancer the "little problem." If it was a "little problem" it couldn't be too serious, right? The little problem changed my outlook on everything. I developed an intensity, concentration, and passion to pursue excellence or at least do my best and to do what I truly felt was important. What a change for a University of Florida partying Gator! Before my diagnosis I was your typical college kid, floating through life without many worries, doing my work, not exactly focused or driven.I was always curiously interested in pushing the limits and exploring new frontiers, and when I graduated from nursing school I wanted a job that was cutting-edge and research focused. Somehow I didn't realize, or perhaps it was denial, that when I accepted a position in a bone marrow transplant unit that all the patients would have cancer. This was a difficult discovery and realization for me during my first week of work, because so many of the patients' concerns were all too close to my own personal struggle. To make matters worse, we were treating a woman my age with lymphoma who everyone thought looked like my twin. We not only looked alike, but we had the same sense of humor and similar likes and dislikes. I couldn't cope with taking care of her, much less seeing her or hearing her status in daily reports. I would go home after an evening shift feeling overwhelmed by the intensity and emotion of the day. Although I had always been a natural athlete and competed in tennis, swimming, and running in college, I was overwhelmed with everything in my life and got fat, depressed, and hopelessly out of shape. I knew that I needed to do something; I needed to move! All my life, physical activity had always been freeing and centering for me. Bicycling had always appealed to me as the ideal form of sport -- you got exercise, could go places fast -- and a childhood dream had been to ride across the United States. So, at the urging of a friend, I started bicycling with the local group. Little did I know that Gainesville, Florida, was a winter training mecca for cyclists, and that I was riding with world-class cyclists. When I realized this, I was delighted, amazed, and incredibly motivated to pursue more time on the bike. I dived into bicycling with my newfound passion and enthusiasm and much to my surprise was achieving more than I ever imagined -- my depression was resolving, I was losing weight, and I was winning races. I pursued cycling with zeal, enthusiasm, and intensity. I was determined to begin following the race circuit and to have a more flexible work schedule. My nurse manager was wonderful, and we negotiated a work schedule that allowed me to travel to races, set up a coaching and training business, and train to set three world records.After many months of emotional.