When my oncologist told me about my advanced diagnosis, I felt like the floor had dropped out from under me.

Who was he talking to? I felt great.

Why was he talking about maintaining my quality of life?  I was as happy as I have been in a long time and I was having about as much fun as I have had in a long time.

How could this be happening?

I am the mother to a scrumptious little boy and have my whole life in front of me.  I just could not metabolize the news.  My whole concept of time shifted – time simultaneously stood still while flashing before my eyes.

In an effort to make sense of everything, I began the process of linking minutes into hours, hours into days, days into weeks and weeks into months.

Now, 10 months into the process and feeling great, as good if not better than the day I was diagnosed, I have a deep commitment to living in the moment and a renewed sense of time.

On that cold, rainy February morning, a day and a half after my diagnosis, I walked with my brother the 5 miles to my house to my first treatment in town.  As an athlete, it was the only thing that made sense to me.  It was the only measure I had that I was doing well.  Exercise became a way of feeling like myself – young, alive and strong.  Since that day, I have not missed a week of walking to treatment with the company and support of a dear friend.

On July 24th, 5+ months into my treatment, I rode in my 2nd CT Challenge, but my 1st as a Survivor.  As I rode the same mantra held true – pedal strokes into feet, feet into yards, yards into miles to a finish line that defines accomplishment, offers an amazing sense of community of Survivorship and celebrates how amazing it is to be active.

I ride so that I feel alive, so that -  despite my diagnosis, I live the life I want to live.