Getting Close

Just about two weeks ago, I was in Chicago to complete my qualifying swim. In order to qualify to swim the English Channel, one must complete a minimum non-stop six hour swim in 60 degree water or less, without ever getting out of the water. I had planned on doing an 8-10 hour swim, but the weather was very shotty, and when Saturday came and passed, the water in Lake Michigan had yet to rise above 52 degrees. My training buddies and I had done a two hour swim on Friday night and the water was almost unbearably cold. Saturday as we approached Foster Beach, the wind was very chilly and a thick fog covered the edge of the city. As the three of us began inching our way out to the water, you could see the hesitation in our eyes and the unspoken word was definitely, "Cheyanne, we really wish we never met you because now we have to get in this freakin' cold water!" They wouldn't say that to my face, but that's what I would be thinking if I were them!

As we followed the pier on the edge of the city, we stopped at 40 minutes and decided we needed to head back because the fog was sweeping back in real fast. If we lost sight of the pier, we could get lost and be out in the cold water for a very unsafe amount of time. As we began passing another beach, one of my training buddies, Mike, stood up and asked the other, John, if he could stay close. He wasn't feeling right, and when hypothermia hits you, it rushes in very quickly. He was experiencing tunnel vision, couldn't form his thoughts or his words, and was having balance problems. He needed to get out of the water fast. So as John walked Mike back to the beach we started at, I told them I still felt fine and began swimming back around the pier on my own. The water was brain freezing cold and I could feel my jaw getting very tight and stiff. When I rounded the pier, I got caught up in the fishing lines of a homeless man fishing off of the pier. He looked like he was ready to throw a punch at me, but I highly doubt he would get in the freezing water to swing at me!

When I got back to the pier, John and Mike were all bundled up like Eskimos and we walked quickly back to John's car and threw on the heat at full blast. After a big breakfast at the West Egg, I went back to my hostel and lounged around before heading to bed at 4pm. The weather looked favorable for tomorrow, so even if the water was in the lower 50's, we still wanted to push for a four hour swim while I was in town. The swim would start at 4am, so that if I was feeling good at four hours and wanted to keep pushing on to qualify, I could finish before the life guards came out.

After about an hour of sleeping, I kept waking up because the person on the bunk below me stayed awake all night and kept shaking the bunk. The night before, the person below me snored so loud it sounded like a parked diesel truck. Oh the luxury of staying in a hostel........I suppose this is good practice in case I have to make my channel crossing in the middle of the night.

My alarm sounded at 3am and I carefully made my way down the bunk ladder. My suit was still damp from the swim before and the chilliness of it helped wake me up. I crammed a banana (I think I've eaten thousands of them while training for the swim) and a granola bar, grabbed my swim bag and ran downstairs to meet Mike and John. Whenever John picks me up at the hostel, he's always so great at boosting my spirits before a long swim. "Good morning! Are you ready for this? You're going to do great! Just to let you know, I'm probably going to push you to do your six hour today, but if you can't handle the cold, we may have to pull you at four. But you better plan on doing six."
While he was saying this, I didn't even listen to the four hour part. Anything below six hours was not an option. I had to get the six hour qualifying swim over-it would be a tremendous weight of doubt off of my shoulders and I needed it out of the way so that I could look ahead to prepare for my 10-12 hour swim in July. I also needed this swim in order to finish my swim registration with the Channel Swimming Association in Dover.

When we arrived at the starting point, it was pitch black. I hadn't done much night swimming at that point, so every time I would get into black water it was a little odd. Getting started is always the hard part, but once you are in, it's kind of calming. You can't tell which way is up or down and with the Chicago skyline all lit up and the stars out in the night sky, it really is a treat. When I got into the water that morning, the water was gut-twisting cold. The first 5 minutes in water so freezing can really dowse your positive thoughts-all I could think about was, "Dear God, please bring out the sun an hour early! I'll buy him a triple shot of espresso at Starbucks if he gets his butt out of bed! I'm freezing and I can't see a thing!"

I began slopping on the vaseline under my arms, between my knees, around my neck-any place that rubs together. After two hours of swimming, you can really have bad chafing if you don't grease up. John clipped on a blinking green light onto the back of my goggle strap so that he and Mike could keep an eye on me.
When I began getting into the water, I heard John yell, "Alright let's go! Sight across the lake to the red light on top of that skyscraper until you see the breakers!"

When I jumped in, my first thought was, "Oh. My. God. I hate myself right now! BRRRR!"

This first part of a freezing swim is what I call, "The Frigid Freak Out".

After the first two miles, I came in for my first feeding. Warmed energy drink never tasted so good! I crammed down a half of a banana, 8oz of Maxim and started up again. After that, I had a feeding every half hour in order to stay warm.
At that point, God gave me the most beautiful "Good morning!" anyone could possibly ask for after swimming in that water for an hour. Take a look for yourself!

The little orange dot down and right of the sun is me.

Around the four hour mark, I was getting very stiff from the cold. Every fifteen minutes I would sprint for sixty seconds in order to warm up again. My feet were blocks of ice and I kept clenching my hands into fists to keep them from going numb. When I came in for the four hour feeding, I was in high spirits. I felt great! Cold, but great! John and Mike let me keep going. I said to John, "Don't you dare let me get out of this water until I'm past the six hour mark!"

Around six hours, I came in for another feeding. Mike yelled, "You only have 10 minutes to go to reach your six hour! Keep it up!" John had jumped in to swim with me and pace me as I began to wrap up my swim. Every time we turned around he would slap me on the side of the head to snap me out of it. The water had only risen two degrees and it was making me a little loopy. I was so focused on getting through the swim he had to slap me to get my attention.

When we came in again, I said to John, "We're not getting out until we go out to the breakers and back, again. I need to do an extra hour for myself."
If it weren't for the cold zapping the energy out of me, I actually felt great. No shoulder pain, no muscle fatigue, just cold water stiffness and my fingers couldn't cup together anymore. If the water was at least above 56 degrees, that wouldn't have been a problem.

We reached the breakers for the last time and John yelled, "Bring it home!"
I swam as fast as I could the whole way back.

When I got to the beach, I stood up slowly. Being horizontal for so many hours can make standing up not very much fun. Your balance is off and you have "sea legs" sometimes. Once I did stand up, John began asking me how I was and I couldn't talk due to my tongue and lips being numb from the cold. I sounded like I was drunk! We both just laughed at me. Mike and John piled on a parka, sweats, towels...any thing they could find to warm me up.

What a great day......I couldn't stop smiling...I was a fully qualified English Channel swimmer! Watch out England, here we come!

If you are reading this post and wonder, "Gosh. What does she think about for all of those hours and hours in the water?"

In all honesty, a majority of the time I am thinking about all of the loved ones in my family who have fought cancer. I have had three relatives who suffered from cancer right around the age I am right now. When I think about them and all that they had to go through to have another day to live, I can't help but feel absolutely blessed and privileged to be able to take every single stroke-even in miserably cold water. Talk to a cancer patient-it is profoundly humbling and almost makes you ashamed of every time you took your health for granted, every time you complained that you were tired, cranky, had a head ache, etc. These courageous individuals go through much worse for days or even years, just to live another day. Life is a precious gift and we should not take it so lightly.

The cancer fund that Crossing for a Cure is trying to build is also a way to remember and honor those individuals. These funds provide the next generation of researchers with the funds they need to start their journey to finding a cure. Every cure and solution starts with a seed-whether that is an idea, or seed monies that come from generous donations from people just like you. Please donate now as a tribute to those you know who have fought cancer.

Fear Can Be a Beautiful Thing

I woke up before my alarm went off this morning at 5:14 am. It is so much easier waking up in the summer when it is light outside.
As I packed up supplies, swimming gear, towels, sweats, food and drinks, I was getting excited to have a this six-hour swim completed, another huge step closer to being ready for the English Channel. I had no idea what I was in for that morning.

I slid on my swim suit that was still damp from my four-hour swim yesterday, and it still smelled like pond scum even though I had scrubbed it with dish soap the night before. As I turned around to lock my door behind me, I thought to myself, "I cannot believe I'm doing this. My roommate is still sound asleep and probably won't be up for another few hours. Wait. The entire WORLD won't be awake for another couple of hours. It's Sunday!"

I climbed into my car and buckled my seat belt. I then realized that my car is beginning to smell incredibly musty from climbing into it still wet after each swim. Pew!

I picked up my kayaker, Tim J., and we drove to get the kayaks before heading to the upper part of the Coralville Reservoir to train. As we got closer to the beach where we would enter the water, we saw a locked gate that said, "Beach Closed". Perfect. We came all of the way out here for nothing. So what do we do? Head to the nearest boat ramp and enter there instead. You get to a point in your training when you cannot let anything get in your way, because you realize every opportunity to train is crucial in reaching your goal.

When Tim and I arrived at the boat dock, we got out of the car and began getting the kayak ready while waiting for my brother, Mike. Mike would be on land with a walkie-talkie while we were out on the water, so that we could contact him in case of an emergency. He was running late, so after everything was ready to go, we were just standing around and chatting. Suddenly, far off in the distance, we heard what sounded like the low rumbling of thunder. I had looked at the weather report this very morning, and it did not say we were going to get any thunderstorms until around noon. I figured it must be far off and it would miss us. As I began removing my sweats and putting on my cap and goggles, an older man came up to us and began to talk. He looked at us and said, "What are you doing? Are you going swimming? Out there? You're crazy! It's foggy and the water's freezin'!"

To avoid telling him that yes, I was indeed swimming out there, in the freezin' water, I asked him, "Is it supposed to storm soon?" To which he replied, "I don't give a sh$%! I'm from Missouruh. You're storms aren't nuthin'! Then, out of the blue, he yells, "Man! She's built like a brick house!" And as he began to walk away, he muttered under his breath, "Tough gal. Welp, don't get run over out there!" I didn't know whether to take that as a compliment or not. I looked at Tim half-puzzled, half wierded-out and asked him, "Did he just say I was built like a brick house? I think that's good?"

As Mike pulled into the boat ramp area, Tim and I picked up the kayak and moved down the ramp. After pushing Tim off onto the reservoir, I plunged into the frigid and murky water. It was so foggy, you could barely make out the opposite shore. It was an odd yet beautiful scene, almost as if we were pushing off into the edge of the world and nothingness began to wrap itself around us.

Immediately I began to sprint to warm up my body. Every now and again I would hear a boat speeding near us, so I popped up my head to make sure they weren't close. There was no way they would see us out in this, so we had to make sure to speed out of their way. The funny thing is, I can hear a boat coming under water, before the kayaker can even see it above water. A boat motor bellows under the water and sounds a lot like a high-pitched table saw. I can understand why fish and other water animals avoid boats-the sound is super annoying and obnoxious!

After my first feeding, around an hour into the swim, Tim said, "Cheyanne, does it seem like it's getting darker to you?" I told him, "No. My goggles are already tinted so I can't really tell." So we continued onward.

We began passing by a campground and I hate it when this happens. You can always smell their campfires and the delicious food they are cooking. I sometimes wonder if I were to climb out of the lake covered in mud and pond scum, climb up the hill to their camp site, plop down next to them and ask them if I can have a hot dog, if they'd say, "yes"?

As we turned around to head back the other way for another hour lap, I noticed it was starting to rain. Ten minutes later, the rain began to really fall and it started to feel like it was coming down really hard. I popped up my head and asked Tim if he was okay with getting drenched. Then, all of a sudden, "BaaaaaAAAAAAAAAAANNNNGGGGG!" A thunder crash really close shook the lake and the valley we were in. Tim and I looked at each other and said, "Sh%^! GO!" I grabbed onto the back of his kayak as he power paddled towards the boat ramp. We were still 2-3 miles away from the ramp and the wind was picking up, making the water very choppy. The rain was coming down harder and it began to hail. It was hitting us in the face and I let go of Tim's kayak and told him to head back as fast as he could. Part of his kayak paddle was metal and we were out in the middle of a body of water! The rain and hail were coming down so hard and the wind was ripping through the valley. You couldn't see anything! As Tim bolted back to the boat ramp, he disappeared into nothingness. I was all alone.

I looked all around me and I couldn't see anything. The lightening was really close and I suddenly felt very naked out in the middle of this lake, with no shelter. I began to sprint as fast as I could towards the direction I thought was the boat ramp. The hail and rain were burning my back and arms so I turned them over faster and faster. The water was so choppy. "This is perfect preparation for the channel!" I thought. I stopped to see if I could see Tim. Nope. Still nothing. For some reason, I stopped and just took it in. The intensity of this storm. How dangerous this moment was. I realized that I was in this mess and there was nothing I could do about it now. I said a few silent prayers of course, but in all honesty, the fear and intensity of the moment was beautiful in a very strange way. Never did I imagine myself in a moment such as this in my entire life. When I began swimming in my younger years, I never thought a sport I loved so much would take me on such an adventure. As I squinted into the distance, I could make out Tim coming back towards me. Then, I saw headlights. My brother had driven his car down onto the ramp and pointed his headlights in my direction so that I could find my way back. Brilliant! As I got closer to the ramp, the wind picked up even more. It whipped Tim's kayak around 180 degrees and nearly flipped him over. "BACK PADDLE!" I yelled, and I grabbed onto the handle of the end of the kayak and began to side stroke towards the ramp as hard as I could. When I could touch, I dragged Tim and the kayak in so Tim could hop out. We began to carry the kayak back to the trailer and I had to stop every few steps to put the kayak down. My arms were dead from sprinting the final 2-3 miles back to the ramp so my hand wasn't gripping very well. Once the kayak was put away, the rain stopped long enough for me to throw on my sweats and climb into my car. Tim was dripping wet. I was now dryer than Tim. Funny!

When I started the car, Tim and I looked at each other and I screamed, "HOLY S$%! What an adventure!"  (pardon the language!)

Moral of the story is, sometimes surprises and hardships are thrown into the monotony of our daily lives for a reason. They can be difficult and even scary sometimes, especially when in order to confront the situation, we must venture into the unknown. When these things happen, if we stop and take a pause before moving forward to get out of the situation, we may even realize the moment can be a gift of grace. A moment that will make us stronger and wiser than we were before. Sometimes a moment of fear can be a very beautiful thing. If we take that moment of pause, the majesty and beauty of the moment can sometimes be breathtaking. Not that I would recommend swimming out in a lake during a severe thunderstorm, but if it just so happens.........


Swimcerely,

Cheyanne

Surrender

This past Friday, May 13th, I had the privilege of being on Iowa Public Radio's program, The Exchange, with Ben Kieffer. It was a half-hour interview, but it went by in a blink. It was a cold and rainy early afternoon, but the building that the radio station was in was very cozy and welcoming. As I drove home, I replayed the interview in my mind. The part of the conversation with Mr. Kieffer that stuck with me the most was when we discussed Lynne Cox, perhaps one of the greatest long distance swimmers the world has ever known. We had both read her book Swimming to Antarctica and I had talked about how the book had awakened me as a swimmer. The book had given me so much perspective and insight, along with many mental tools I have used in my training to prepare for my channel crossing in August. Gosh-it will be here in just 2 and a half months!

Early that same morning, I had been out swimming for a little over an hour in the frigid cold water of the Coralville Reservoir, with my brother kayaking by my side. We began at 5:30am while it was still dark. Putting your face into murky, slimy waters when it is still dark out, can be a little unsettling until you get used to it. Growing up with four brothers, I was always a tom boy, but brushing your hands against questionable slimy objects in those murky waters in the dark morning is enough to make anyone's toes crinkle up.

This past Monday after a weekend of rain and temperature drops, I headed out early again to do a two hour swim. The water temp was 58 degrees, with windy and cold air in the lower 40s. Probably not the smartest thing to do, but I figured we could at least try and get out of the water if I ran into trouble. The first half-hour of cold water swimming is always the hardest part because the cooled blood on the surface of your body is being pumped back into your core to be warmed up. The cold blood being pumped into your head can cause your head to pound and ache, just like an ice cream headache. Once that is past and I'm settled into my stroke, I don't notice the cold too much until I to stop to feed, or if I am passing through a pocket of water that is a couple of degrees colder.

You are probably wondering what a person thinks about when they are swimming for hours and hours with their face down in murky dark water, not seeing anything past their elbow. I thought I would be bored out of my mind, but the truth is, the time passes faster than when you can see where you are going in a lap pool. The unknown creates a lot of anticipation and never being able to look up and see a clock leaves you constantly wondering, "Hmmmmmm. I wonder what time it is. NO SHUT UP! It has probably only been 5 minutes since the last time you wondered. Get back to swimming!"

Back to Lynne Cox's book. After a long time swimming in the lake, my mouth tastes like I licked a frog. You know that fishy smell from your childhood when your dad was cleaning the cat fish he just caught? That is what I smell like and taste when I've been in the reservoir. I try very hard to keep my mouth closed, but water going into your nose and mouth is just something you have to accept. When it gets to be unbearable, I think back to chapter 8 in Lynn's book in which she swims a race in the Nile River.

During this chapter, she is invited to compete in a prestigious race in the Nile River. In Egypt, distance swimmers are worshipped just like famous soccer players or movie stars. Once there, she becomes very ill with dysentery because someone had filled her water bottle with water directly from the faucet. The public water systems in Egypt were anything but sanitary. Unable to stomach anything for days, she still competed in the race.

The Nile was a ditch of sludge and sewage. She could not see anything and is instantly covered in a layer of slime and oil residue. She passes by the dead bodies of fish, rats, garbage, and even puts her hand through the rib cage of a dead dog. At one point, the river is so shallow that she cuts her hand on some glass while pulling her arms through mud up to her elbows. After drifting into dehydration and hypothermia, she pulls out of the race and has to be rushed to the hospital.

Reading this chapter gave me so much respect for her. Her love for swimming and using that love to bring many countries together, inspires me as I use my love of swimming to unite people who want to find a cure for cancer. She not only swam the Nile, but began by crossing the Catalina Channel in her early teens, swimming the English Channel as a teenager, crossing the Bering Strait, and swimming in Antarctica-in only a plain swimming suit, goggles, and swim cap. She used her swimming to help ease the tensions between the U.S. and Russia during the cold war(Bering Strait swim), and also used her arctic swims to help aid valuable research in better understanding the effects of hypothermia on the human body.

Her mental strength is something incredible to behold. As I bury my face into that murky water and swim in frigid waters for multiple hours, I always think of her and those people I am doing this swim for: those who have fought or are currently fighting cancer.  As you can imagine, swimming in slimy, frigid water for hours on end is nothing compared to being stuck multiple times by needles, losing your hair, constantly being ill and weakened from chemotherapy, being disfigured or losing a valuable organ from surgery, staggering medical costs; all without a solid promise of a full recovery. These inspiring individuals surrender to the miserable things they must go through for months or even years, in order to hold on to their most precious gift: life. Please consider helping me use this swim to help honor those you love who have battled cancer. By providing seed money to the next generation of passionate researchers and fresh ideas, perhaps one day we can give cancer patients a promise of a full recovery and the promise of a future.
Please go to http://www.crossingforacure.com and make your donation today. Thank you!

Foundations

This Saturday I will be heading to my home town to host the first THS Alumni Swim Meet. The meet begins at noon at the Tipton Kennedy Aquatic Center, and will be a fundraiser to raise money for the cancer research fund. Hopefully we have a good turn out-it should be a lot of fun!

Aside from being a fundraiser, this meet also serves a very sentimental purpose, as well. My swimming roots began less than a mile from this pool, in a pool at the Tipton High School. This pool was less than regulation length, so us swimmers had to swim 5 lengths for 100 yards, instead of just 4 in an actual 25 yard pool. As you can venture to guess, we were very good at flip turns. This tiny, cramped pool, was where my love for swimming began at the young age when my parents took us there for Red Cross swimming lessons, and when I turned 12, I began swimming for the YMCA Swim club. Coach O'Donnell and Coach Herring became my coaches, and played a huge role in cultivating the swimmer I am today.

For a middle school and junior high student, it always amazed me how hard we trained at such a young age. There were several kids in the program and many of them became extremely good. I was decent at that age, but I was blind as a bat, and this was before I was allowed to wear contacts. There were many times I jammed fingers or banged my head on the wall because I came in to fast, not being able to see where I was going. I will never forget during the summer after 8th grade when I got my first pair of contacts, and how my swim times dropped like 5 seconds because I could go full force into the wall without having to run into it!

One season, Coach Herring made signs to hang up during practices and each one had something inspiring on them. They were words to make us think about what we were doing as athletes and how we could push ourselves to become better. There is one that really stuck with me, "In order to do something you've never done before, you have to do something you've never done before." Seems obvious, doesn't it? But if you really think about it, we can all dream as much as we want to about the things we have never done before, but many of us aren't willing to put in the work and whatever else is necessary to achieve those dreams. We forget that we really do have to do something different to accomplish those things, whether it be to practice harder, adopt new techniques; many times, I've found, is that it really takes a change in our attitudes and our perspective.

While I've been preparing myself to swim the channel, I have found that while a lot of the hard training is required, this feat takes more mental capacity than I ever could have fathomed. During long and tiresome hours in the water, I am only left with my thoughts to get me through. By hour 3, menial thoughts have run out, and I have to reach deeper into thoughts that give me perspective on what it is that I am really doing. This always leads me to think about those people that I am doing this for.

I am often reminded of a conversation I had with someone. They had lost a close loved one to cancer and the two of us were talking about my swim. They were asking me a lot of questions, and I told her about all of the obstacles a swimmer faced. The biggest challenge of a channel swimmer is luck-we can do everything we can to train, research all of the right nutrition plans, follow all of the right techniques, book the best pilot vessel, and choose the right set of tides to make our attempt; but in the end, it all depends on the weather. Many a swimmer has had to give up, sometimes within 500 yards of the shores of France, because of unforeseen factors.

After talking about this, my friend grew silent. She then told me, "You know, that is very much like what a cancer patient goes through."

She is right. A cancer patient can consult all of the right doctors, do all of the research they can, follow every treatment plan the doctors give them, take all of the right medications and receive the best treatment; but making a full recovery is never 100% guaranteed. Yet, cancer patients fight as hard as they can, no matter how grim the outlook may be. That is what makes them so inspiring. Many patients fight for years and years. It really makes one realize how incredible our lives really are and what a gift good health is.

Tomorrow as former Tipton swimmers gather to swim and make fools of ourselves (yes, there is a doggie paddle race), I will remember how lucky I am to have grown up in such an incredible swimming program; one that taught me what hard work and discipline is. I will also remember how lucky I am to be able to do this-our health really is a gift-and one that I am privileged to be able to use as a means to fight to end cancer. Please join us!

Someone Pinch Me, Please!

Someone pinch me, please. Did last evening really happen? It was definitely one of those memories where you wake up the next day and wonder if it really did, in fact, happen.


As guests arrived and walked through the stately, but welcoming, stone arch, and made their way down the wooden path under the beautiful glow of the lights, wait staff greeted them with a sparkling wine. A classy evening would begin in just a few moments, as I welcomed everyone. I could not help but feel nervous, but  also very excited that so many people were joining us for a beautiful evening for a great cause. Chef's Table's General Manager and host, Brian, gently clanged a glass to ask everyone to be seated, and proceeded to introduce the evening's festivities. Mark Passavant, the wine rep from Okoboji Wines, then took the spotlight to walk guests through the evening's courses, and why he chose each wine to compliment each dish. The artistry behind each pairing enchanted everyone present.

At just $100 a plate, guests were treated to an absolutely incredible five course meal, from crab, to scallop, to pheasant, to bison, and a finale of decadent Mast Brothers Dark Chocolate, accompanied by a side of vanilla bean sherbet. Each course was delicately and expertly paired with a wine, graciously donated by Mark Passavant and Okoboji Wines.

After the first course and the third course, we heard from Gynocologic Oncologist Doctor Goodheart, and Professor Adam Dupuy, two cancer researchers at the Holden Comprehensive Center. Both of them explained to the guests how they collaborate on various research projects, and how seed money provides them with the resources and equipment they need in order to gain preliminary data necessary to qualify them for larger grants. This seed money is crucial to their research. Without it, their new innovative ideas and fresh passion in the field of cancer research are left at a stand still. Cancer research is very inspiring and interesting, but it comes at a great cost. Both Dr. Goodheart and Professor Dupuy also gave guests a unique glimpse into how their contributions can make an impact on cancer research.

After the fourth course, I must admit I was a little nervous to get up and speak after four glasses of wine and four courses of food. I had a lot of very important things to say, some very sentimental and dear to me. My biggest fear was that a burp or a hiccup would sneak up on me and ruin the moment! Thankfully, nothing like that happened. Phew! I talked to our guests about how the Crossing for a Cure campaign began, and where the idea to swim the English Channel came from. It was wonderful being able to tell them about my grandfather, who inspired me to begin this journey. I was also able to acknowledge several very important people, who made the evening possible. I'm going to go ahead and acknowledge them here, as well!


Executive Chef Eric McDowell and his staff of Chef's Table-Every last guest in the restaurant last night was absolutely IN AWE of the dining experience they were treated to. I don't think anything could ever top such an excellent meal, let alone the elegance, professionalism, and expertise displayed by Chef McDowell and his staff! I am so humbled by his generosity to host this benefit dinner-Chef's Table gave us so much and allowed $75 from each plate to be donated to the research fund!

Mark Passavant and Okoboji Wines- Thank you to Mark and Okoboji Wines for donating all of the outstanding wines to accompany our meal! Not only did Okoboji donate the wine, but at the end of the evening, guests were able to purchase the wines they loved at an incredible discount, with ALL of those proceeds going to the cancer fund as well! WOW!

Susan Shullaw of Susan Shullaw & Associates, LLC-My right hand woman during the past two months! Susan donated her impeccable and brilliant communication skills to help me talk to all of the right people in all of the right ways. She used to be the Senior Vice President of Strategic Communications at the University of Iowa Foundation, and donated her time to take me under her wing. I learned so much from her in such a short amount of time!

Robyn Hepker of Benson & Hepker  Design- Robyn, a friend of Susan's, took our idea for the program of the event, and turned it into something more than I could have possibly imagined! We gave her the information, and in less than a week, a beautiful program was made with the Crossing for a Cure logo across the cover. Robyn's job was very tricky-we had so much important information to fit into very little space. Needless to say, she is a pro-It looked beautiful sitting amongst the place settings!

Doctor Michael Goodheart-Who would have thought that a student clerk working with Doctor Goodheart on a research project in 2006 would lead to such an adventure? If you are not familiar with the story, I was a student clerk in the Ob/Gyn Oncology floor of the UIHC during the spring of 2006, and had the privilege to work with Dr. Goodheart on a research project. Dr. Goodheart and his staff were so inspiring and my experience stuck with me. We were so lucky to have Doctor Goodheart there to speak to us about the incredible work he does!

Professor Adam Dupuy-A PhD student, Professor Dupuy works closely with Doctor Goodheart in a research lab. I just met Professor Dupuy a couple of weeks ago when he graciously volunteered to speak at last night's event. It was great getting to hear from both parts of the research duo!

And lastly, a HUGE thanks to all who attended! It was an honor and privilege spending the evening with all of the above mentioned and all of you! I enjoyed meeting and speaking with all of you individually, and I am so thankful you have joined this awesome adventure for a cause that means so much to so many.

With your generosity, we were able to raise $3,530! 

I cannot express my thanks in words! 

Swimcerely,

Cheyanne

Benefit Dinner at Chef's Table of Iowa City, March 23rd

Hello! It has been a very busy month for the Crossing for a Cure campaign!

Coming up in just a week we will be holding a benefit dinner at the elegant Chef's Table in downtown Iowa City. This beautiful evening will begin at 6pm with mingling and wine, followed by an incredible five-course meal. The evening will be interspersed with guest speakers from the Holden Comprehensive Cancer Center, and myself. Guests will get an inside look at how their contributions impact research, and will have a chance to ask each speaker any questions they may have. Places may fill up fast so please RSVP and make your reservation at 319-337-0490.

At a recent meeting with Executive Chef Eric McDowell, he informed me that main course selections hold a wide array of choices; including bison, pheasant, crab, and scallops. Each dish will also be delicately paired with wine from Mark Passavant and Okoboji Wines, who has graciously donated all of the wines for the evening.

The beautiful wine room of Chef's Table (courtesy of www.chefstableiowacity.com)

What a great deal! A five-course meal, all wines, and a beautiful evening all to help a great cause...for only $100! And on top of that, $75 will be directly donated to the fund, giving you a $75 tax deductible contribution. Guests will also be able to purchase the wines they liked at an incredible discount, and this will also be donated directly to the research fund. If you are able to join us, please contact 319-337-0490 to make your reservation at Chef's Table. I hope to see you there!

A couple of years ago, I was privileged to be a server at Chef's Table.
Working with Chef McDowell and his staff gave me an immense appreciation for all that goes into a fantastic and elegant dining experience, one that I would love to share with you. I hope you'll come join me and the Crossing for a Cure campaign to help junior faculty cancer researchers at the Holden Comprehensive Cancer Center get the funds they need to find a cure!

To find out more about Chef's Table, visit www.chefstableiowacity.com.

Swimcerely,

Cheyanne

Meet Doctor Goodheart

Have you ever wondered what inspires a doctor and cancer researcher to do their job? Do you want to know how your donations help researchers achieve great possibilities for their patients? 

Doctor Goodheart, an inspiring Oncologist and cancer researcher at the University of Iowa Hospitals and Clinics, gave me the opportunity to ask him a couple of questions.

What made you decide you wanted to become a doctor?

I was initially drawn to medicine because of my interest in chemistry and biology. I thought it would be interesting to study the basic science and biology behind the workings of medicine, and it interested me to use science in a way to benefit people.

What led you into the field of Gynecologic Oncology?

I would say the diversity and interaction with patients within the specialty of Gynecologic Oncology. We have the privilege of seeing patients during a very difficult and trying time in their life, when they have been diagnosed with a gynecologic malignancy, and this allows us to really interact with and get to know patients very well. The ability to operate on someone is a privilege and to help them through surgery and chemotherapy is very rewarding. The challenges of taking care of a patient with a gynecologic malignancy are incredible. Most of our patients are older, have complex medical problems, and then, layered on top of that, a malignancy that requires an operation and most often additional treatment, so being able to take care of patients with complex medical problems at a very difficult time in their life is incredibly rewarding.

What led you into researching and trying to find various cures for cancer? Why do you do research?

During my fellowship in Gynecologic Oncology, I began to realize that there were a limited number of patients with advanced stage disease that we could truly cure by doing surgery and administering chemotherapy. I became very interested in how newer therapies came into existence and wanted to be a part of trying to identify newer ways to treat the different gynecologic cancers that I saw; for example, identifying novel pathways or new targets for drug therapy interested me.  I also felt this was a way that I could contribute to future patients, in addition to doing surgery on current patients, with gynecologic cancer.

What fascinates you the most in your field?

The most fascinating aspect of my field is the interaction with patients and the potential for identifying new ways to treat and alleviate the suffering in patients with gynecologic cancer. I feel there is a cure for many of the cancers that are presently affecting patients, and it is fascinating to try to figure this out on a molecular level and then apply this to a patient care setting.

What motivates you/drives you in your career?

The patients are what motivate me to continue to work and try to identify better therapies. Seeing patients in clinic, interacting with them and their families and trying to make their lives better is very rewarding. Bad outcomes are unfortunately part of this job, but these bad outcomes are also part of the motivation and drive that helps me to continue to look for new and novel therapies for patients who are affected by gynecologic cancer.

What do you like most about working within the Holden Comprehensive Cancer Center?

The collaboration among physicians, basic scientists and all healthcare workers collectively working to try to achieve a common goal is the thing that I most like about working within the Holden Comprehensive Cancer Center. The collegial nature of the Cancer Center, the openness in which investigators share their results and collaborate is unsurpassed.  The support I have personally received from the Cancer Center when I began my career was incredible, not only financial support but also the collegial atmosphere and social support to continue to encourage one in an endeavor that is oftentimes fraught with setbacks. For example, many, many things that are done in the laboratory don’t initially work on the first try, and the ability to talk to other investigators to try to solve those problems and the encouragement I received from them when I began my career, and still do receive from them currently, is a very important aspect of working in the Cancer Center.

What do you feel are your most considerable accomplishments?

I consider my most considerable accomplishment is establishing a translational research lab in addition to being an active clinician. For me, the interaction of clinical medicine and basic science research is of utmost importance and one that I feel will truly help to move the field of gynecologic cancer research forward. The ability to collaborate with multiple scientists within the basic sciences and then apply that knowledge to clinical specimens and clinical medicine is a very worthy endeavor. Being able to set up a research laboratory in addition to continuing to operate and see patients in clinic is something I am very happy I was able to accomplish, again with the help of the Cancer Center and multiple other people who supported me.

When a donor gives, how does this affect/help the research that you do?

The startup money that I received from donor contributions within the Cancer Center was invaluable. As a junior investigator when I began my career, I relied entirely on donor contributions that were given to the Cancer Center and then subsequently given to me to begin my laboratory and acquire the preliminary data necessary to apply for larger, NIH (National Institute of Health) grants. Without that initial donor contribution that was given to the Cancer Center, startup funds for junior investigators would not be possible, and, in turn, many very successful, senior investigators who are currently working now might not have had the opportunity to build their laboratories to the stature in which they are.

How did seed money help you get to where you are today?

The seed money that I received from the Cancer Center allowed me to hire a research assistant and to buy reagents necessary to do experiments.  This in turn allowed me to acquire preliminary data that was required for larger grant applications. The seed money that I received from the Cancer Center was invaluable in helping me to establish my research career.

Do you find cancer patients inspiring? In what ways?

I absolutely find cancer patients to be inspiring. The resilience and drive our patients have and the hardships that they endure while still maintaining a positive attitude is absolutely incredible. Our patients are continually having to deal with physical pain and problems associated with surgery and receiving additional treatments in the forms of chemotherapy and radiation therapy, and they also oftentimes receive bad news based on physical exam findings and CT findings when their cancer is either not responding to therapy or recurs.  Even in light of this news and the physical problems they have our patients continue to maintain a positive approach to life and are an example for all of us to live by. The amount of difficulties our patients endure on a daily basis is incredible, and for them to continue to maintain a positive outlook on life and endure therapies and treatments that are physically and emotionally difficult to complete gives me great respect for all patients who are undergoing cancer treatment.

Help junior faculty researchers get the funds they need by giving to the Crossing for a Cure campaign today!