I am selling Liv this weekend. She’s on to her next adventure.

As strange as it sounds-this is the most difficult goodbye I’ve ever had. I know-it’s a boat, an object. She doesn’t have feelings-but if she did…I’d tell Liv thank you and I’d express my gratitude by hugging all 19 foot of her beautiful fiberglass body. Thank you for helping me raise over $150,000 (plus 4 boat donations) for a cause I could not be more passionate about. Thank you for protecting me in all kinds of weather and wind, for letting me throw up on you multiple times, occasionally make you stink with bug spray, body odor and sunscreen. Thank you for being my partner through press conferences, interviews and dozens of photos shoots. Remember that storm in Green Bay when the anchor snapped and I wanted to give up, screaming and crying through the sickness and fear? Thank you for never giving up on me and my dream.

Thank you for bringing me home to the greatest city in the world…

So that I can plan my next adventure for the summer of 2014.

GO ROW.

-Jenn

I’ve also been working hard with the ROW Board of Directors to come up with a plan for the best way to use funds to expand and improve the ROW program in Chicago and beyond. Along with writing a book, figuring out how my hands work again-and attending yoga as much as possible, I’ve been able to take a few moments to reflect and breathe.  Life is really good.

I was also photographed by Kevin J. Miyazaki, a Milwaukee artist that has an exhibit coming out this winter called “Perimeter” that explores that relationship people have with Lake Michigan. I was photographed and asked to share what drew me to Lake Michigan. My photo and answer below (details of the exhibit to come). I was honored to be a part of the project. I really enjoyed being photographed by and sharing with Kevin-and the reaction I had to the photo he chose was even more surprising to me.  I feel like I finally saw myself the way everyone else does. When I saw this photo-it reminded me of the journey I’m on, of owning my accomplishments and everything that’s ahead. I’m really proud of it and it makes me feel different (but always good) every time I see it.

“Lake Michigan drew me in and continues to draw me in because it is a body of water rich in history-for people who settled along the Lake hundreds of years ago and for me-rowing around it in a big yellow boat to fight breast cancer for 59 days. As a child I learned about becoming a woman through beach time and sandcastles in South Haven with my grandmother. I learned about how to be a fisher(wo)man: to respect and admire nature with my dad and uncles on a boat miles away from shore. Over one summer, this body of water taught me about my own strength and how to be resilient. Along with losing that same grandmother to cancer, I overcame the biggest obstacles I have ever faced- entirely alone on this Lake. I was left with Lake Michigan and only Lake Michigan for so many days and so many nights. I praised her one day and cursed her the next-but I always wanted her close, I always respected her, I was always thankful for her -and always will be.”

The ROW team celebrated this weekend at their annual gala, Let the Good Times ROW. The event was held at Rowfit Chicago-and the space was transformed beautifully by co chairs Elin and Nell.We had a fabulous time-enjoying each other on land and out of the cold! It amazes me every year at this event- how much we’ve grown and progressed in such a short time. Thank you to everyone who came out to support ROW and dance, spend money and enjoy great company. Special thanks to Rowfit for hosting us!

This week I’m speaking in Escanaba at Bay College. 7 pm at the Besse Center Theater on campus. I’m looking forward to heading north and sharing my story. If you have interest in hearing me speak at your local university, church, hospital or event, please send your request to: igotthis@recoveryonwater.org.

As always- GO ROW!
Jenn

It’s been over a month now since I’ve been home from my two month rowing journey that I spent the last three years of my life planning, training, preparing for and completing. Since returning home-I’ve had so many opportunities to share my journey and to share the mission of ROW. Some of these opportunities I took, some I passed on. Some are still on going as I travel the country to speak in the coming months.

I’m feeling more like myself. Normal is relative, especially after a life changing experience. I don’t think I’m the same person that left Chicago on June 15, but I’m feeling more at home than I did when I stepped off Liv (my “other” home).

I’ve taken time to be alone and I’ve taken time to be surrounded by people I love. In both environments- I’ve battled moments of extreme joy and bouts of depression. I went from one lifestyle to another-a drastic change in surroundings- it was bound to happen. Change is always a little bit scary-even when you’re moving into conditions that are seemingly “better”. There are a lot of ups and downs-days where I’ve felt a million things. I’m so thankful to have so many people still cheering me on and supporting me as I heal and figure out what’s next.

I get this question a lot: “How are you doing? No, Jenn, how are you really doing?” I know what people are asking-and I still have a hard time knowing how to answer. I feel fine-I mean, I’m okay.  That’s all that honestly comes to mind when I go to answer that question.

I wanted to write about how I feel because it’s not as easy to talk about-so here’s my best stab.

When I decided to row around Lake Michigan I knew it was daring-it was adventurous and if completed, it would be inspiring.  But on the boat and even for weeks after I got home, I was just trying to survive. I was just being myself from June 15 to August 14. That’s all it was. I wasn’t drinking magic inspiration juice everyday and what I had to share on those white boards were not calculated, scripted, planned out or even filtered. What I was going through was just that-and what I shared and what you saw was an honest interpretation.  It was so honest that I don’t look at my old facebook posts or pictures because every time I’ve tried I get overwhelmed with emotion.

At the time I didn’t understand the significance of all that I was doing. I didn’t understand fully what $125,000 could do to change so many lives.  I didn’t understand the importance of talking about my sexual assault publicly. I just thought-I’m moving, I’m working towards my goal, I’m sharing, like I always have. This wasn’t my fault, I didn’t do anything wrong-why does everyone think it’s such a big deal that I’m talking about it or continuing on my journey? It felt right, and admittedly, I was a bit numb because I was still in shock-but it felt right. When I look back now, I still believe that continuing on was what was right for me.

And then the outpour of support came. The flood of emails that are still in a giant folder of my inbox. I read them slowly, I read them and reply to them delicately and with care. I never wrote anyone back on my trip because I was afraid of what I might say. I was afraid of what I would discover about myself and my own recovery if I could identify and relate with the victims that shared their stories with me. What if I knew just what they were talking about? The pain, the nightmares, the need to take a million showers a day-why would I want to see myself as a victim or relate when I could just go on denying what happened to me and reject it as a part of my identity? The ladder seemed much easier. And it was for weeks after my sexual assault. I still feel like I’m battling to understand what happened to me and accept it as part of who I am. Sometimes I feel like talking about it (on a random bike ride with a girlfriend), and other times I just want to forget it happened-hoping that the reporter won’t ask me about it in an interview.

So how am I really?

I have good days, and I have bad days. Some days I have meetings planned and I just can’t get out of bed because I’m so depressed. Other days I feel amazing and I want to share everything with everyone because I feel so happy I’m sure I’m going to explode.  It still makes me blush when little girls ask me for my autograph or I book speaking engagements. I have every kind of resource available to me-I have amazing friends and family. I have the ROW team every Monday night-a constant source of inspiration. I have leaders from sexual assault organizations offering counseling, anything under the sun.

I know that I’m lucky-I know that this is not easy no matter who you are-and that’s why it’s important to share how I am, really.

Because when I’m having a “bad” day, I remember that so many victims of sexual assault don’t have the resources I have. Maybe they can’t use their friends or family as support because even if they found a way to talk to them about it-they might do more harm than good. Maybe their friends or family assaulted them. Maybe (and I know this is not a “maybe”) there are people out there that haven’t told anyone about their assault.

So, really, I’m okay. This is normal. It’s “normal”. And whenever I find myself on a peak or in a lull I remind myself that I have to share. That’s why I felt compelled to write today. I am able and I’ve had the opportunity to begin to heal because I have talked about what happened to me. And maybe because I’ve talked about it, someone else will.

“Fear of an uncertain future can stop us from doing great things, and it can keep us holding onto things that are hurting us.” I am not fearless and no one is. Fear-in my mind, is healthy. It pushes and pulls us in the best and worst ways. Talking about my sexual assault was just as scary as the six foot waves, seasickness, broken anchors and 30 mph winds.

Please know that I am so thankful for your support as I move forward in all kinds of directions. Thank you for sharing with me-I’ll keep doing my best to return the favor.

GO ROW.

-Jenn

When I left on my journey nearly two months ago, I knew I would be pushed to my physical and emotional limits. And while the trip didn’t always go as I expected, I know I accomplished all I set out to–and more. When I rowed out of this harbor on June 15, my goal was to raise money and awareness for a cause very close to my heart. Over the course of two months more than $100k has been pledged to Recovery on water, a rowing team for breast cancer survivors that empowers women to take an active role in their health in the face of a devastating disease. The money we have raised and continue to raise will allow even more women to experience the healing power of exercise. Donations can still be made  at row4row.org

On this journey, I experienced the highest of highs and the lowest of lows. I set out from this dock a different person that I return. But I am not broken by what happened to me. I still believe that there are more good people in the world than bad. I still believe that life is a gift, even when it’s scary and unfair. I still believe that life offers us the privilege, the opportunity, and the responsibility, to give something back, even when people try to take things away from us.

I undertook this trip on behalf of the women who inspire me everyday–members of the row team who have chemo in the morning and come to practice that night. Women who look cancer in the face and take its power back. They continue to be my strength and inspiration as I heal. I know that I am not alone.

I’d like to thank all of you for your interest in me and my story. There are many people who selflessly volunteered their time for me, and I especially want to thank Brenda Janish and Mark Carroll. It’s amazing to be home. Thank you all for your support.

GO ROW!

_________________________

Step one: Be thankful for the miracle that is your life.
Step two: Ask yourself-is this how I want to spend it?
Step three: Get going. Begin to create.

Please remember-that my journey didn’t start when I left Chicago Yacht Club on June 15. It began over two years ago when I started dreaming about a rowing trip. On day one it was just me-with my little idea, full of doubts. It’s been a roller coaster- and the ride is about to end. I feel lost. I feel happy. I feel sad. I know that I have to celebrate- but my mind keeps dreaming about the next adventure. I am thankful for this miracle, this life. This is exactly how I want to spend it. The adventures will continue and I will continue to create and share- for you and for me.

Step four: Pick yourself up and get back on the bike, the horse, the boat (whatever you’re doing) when shit happens. Because inevitably, it will.

Step five: Don’t let anyone take away your dream. It is yours. Protect it. Never forgot how important it is to you. Nothing will ever be as rewarding as the day you put that dream in focus, letting all the negativity and every obstacle become blurred around it. People who try to stop you don’t matter. Nothing else matters.

Dear Chicago:

You are all that I can see, you are all that I have on my heart and in my mind- and you have never looked so beautiful.

See you Tuesday morning.

Love, Jenn

Jenn and I have been best friends since we met in our freshman year of health class at Lakeview High School. We both wore some fly denim overalls to gym class and made faces at each other across the classroom as we learned basic human anatomy. We went to different colleges, but ended up living together in Chicago, hosting dinner parties, practicing yoga, and caring for each other as we went through the challenges everyone goes through in the years after college. Through our adventures, we became incredibly close, finding comfort and seeking refuge in each other as we navigated new interests and endeavors.

Around the last year of college, I heard my gchat go off at work:

Jenn: “I think I want to start a rowing team for breast cancer survivors.”
Ally: “Really?! That’s an amazing idea!”
Jenn: “I have no idea how to start a business.”
Ally: “YOU CAN DO IT.”

And that’s was how all of this ROW amazingness began. At the time, Jenn had been living in Chicago and coaching St. Ignatius Crew, where she fell in love with teaching and coaching novice rowers.

I am not a member of the ROW team, but in volunteering for the group I have been able to connect with many of the amazing women who are on this team. I was one of the fortunate volunteers who helped plan the first fundraisers and who took photographs at the first water practices on Bubbly Creek. I was able to firsthand see the joy on the founding team members’ faces as they took there first pulls on a boat or because they felt a sense of accomplishment with their newfound love of rowing. Because of my friendship with Jenn, I was also able to experience her sense of accomplishment and joy in providing this opportunity for the women. Many volunteers contribute to ROW’s success, but it is their fearless, headstrong coach, Jenn, who has shared this experience with me.

ROW is the product of committed, passionate people coming together to provide support to a group of individuals that we can all relate to. Everyone knows someone who has battled a form of cancer, or has lost that battle to cancer.  People from all over Chicago – and now, the greater Midwest —want to give time, money, in-kind support, or general enthusiasm for the mission. It’s natural that people want to give to this cause—fighting cancer. We want to be supportive of people who are facing their life challenges head-on, and state in the most fearless of voices, “…this is my life.”

When ROW was just an idea, Jenn discovered a breast cancer survivor who was on the hunt for a row team. This woman, Sue Ann, is Co-Founder of ROW and sits on the board. She was the key to the network of survivors that formed the initial team of one or two boats. This group of women, along with a number of volunteers, planned practices indoors and on the river. They helped Jenn plan fundraisers at art galleries and ergathons at gyms. There are the St. Ignatius High School and college student volunteers, who have spent hours assisting and learning from their former coaches, and lifting boats for the ROW women; or who sat with a cancer survivor at her first practice and shared how powerful she felt in the water. This community of people who believe in the mission of ROW have all played a role in the development of this movement.

It wasn’t a surprise when a couple of years ago, my gchat went off again:

Jenn: “Ally, I think I want to row across the ocean.”
Ally: “WHAAAAAT?!”

This is how this trip around the lake began. Jenn has worked tirelessly to build a team, secure partnerships, seek out mentors, develop a board of leaders, find committed coaches, secure facilities, and fundraise. But even in that whirlwind of activity, Jenn needed yet another incredible challenge and imagined rowing across the Atlantic Ocean. As you all know, the idea evolved into a trip around Lake Michigan, a feat that has not been attempted before. It is also a decision that illuminates the grassroots nature of the Recovery on Water team. When Jenn and the Row4Row team started planning this trip, old friends and volunteers all around the Midwest stepped out to be a part of it. The trip is monumental for her as an athlete and as the leader of ROW.

This is just the beginning of what Recovery on Water will be for survivors. Jenn refuses to let the most challenging of circumstances deter her from finishing this trip. Instead, she looks head-on, and says, “I’ve got this…this is my life.” To all of her friends and supporters: continue to rally, send words of encouragement, and donate. Continue to send those positive vibes so that we can welcome her home soon. I, for one, am thrilled to see what greatness is yet to come from Recovery on Water.

I can hear my gchat now:

Jenn: “So I was thinking…”
Ally: “GO FOR IT!”

I first met Jenn while she was a receptionist at my former employer. I was still new to the company, and of all the receptionists, she seemed the most friendly. I remember noting in my mind that she seemed like someone I’d like to know better.

Lucky for me, she was quickly promoted to a position that was seated in the cubicle next to me. We became instant friends, chatting often and eventually becoming lunch buddies. Jenn and I sat staring at our computer screens each day sharing how
we both felt we were equipped to do something completely different with our lives than sit in a corporate office, wasting the time away doing something we didn’t love. It was there that Jenn started to dream up Recovery on Water. Somehow, she weaseled her way into having me help with the early stage finances of the organization.

I’m glad she asked for my help. Through Jenn, I was able to meet the amazing women that started ROW, and I was giving back to an organization that meant a lot to Jenn and the members of her team. She inspired me and so many others to take
part in ROW. Soon, Jenn quit her corporate job and was growing ROW in ways only someone like Jenn could.

While working as Treasurer for ROW, I quickly learned that Jenn is the type of person that says “yes” to everything and then figures out the “how” later. This went against my accountant-like operating style, and during the time that I served as Treasurer for ROW, it was a frustration for me. Where I am pessimistic, Jenn is always enthusiastic. Where I am methodical, Jenn is spontaneous. I am cautious. Jenn is an adventurer. Jenn’s affirmative attitude and passion drove the organization to grow better than any bean-counter like me could ever dream. Her figure-out-the-details-later style landed her in the seat of an ocean-rowing vessel, taking on Lake Michigan to raise money for her cause.

So, when Jenn decided to continue her journey via bike, despite the most ominous obstacles, I decided to finally throw caution to the wind. In a moment of “Jenn,” I committed to biking a day with her and figuring out the “how” later. I borrowed a bike from a friend, donned my husband’s bike shorts (ack – somehow they fit!), and showed up at Jenn’s camp on Saturday morning.

Despite the early hour and all that had transpired since the attack, Jenn was her same-old, beautiful, shiny self. She greeted me warmly, and made me feel so at ease with the day’s miles ahead. Once again, Jenn was putting others before herself.

The 75-mile ride around the Leelanau Peninsula was long, picturesque, and fun. Jenn and her entourage made for a motley crew of humorous and fit bikers. Jenn was like our Forrest Gump. Wherever she was going….she was riding! Jenn’s attitude toward another day of riding was amazing to me (my ‘undercarriage’ was less than enthusiastic after the first set of miles). “How does she do it?” I asked myself throughout the day. While climbing up hills or getting on the bike again after a break, I’d remind myself that if Jenn can do six consecutive days of biking (not to mention re-join Liv and row the rest of the way to Chicago), I surely should be able to endure one day. Once we arrived at our destination in Glen Arbor, MI, I was rewarded with some quality time with good ol’ Jenn. I hadn’t seen Jenn in months, but despite all that she had been through since the last time I saw her, she was her lovely, smiling, energetic self. While juggling press calls, logistics, and the aftermath of a sexual assault, Jenn was bubbly, fun, and inspiring. Jenn made the initial commitment to take on the perimeter of Lake Michigan. After a sexual assault, she decided to continue via bike. There’s even talk of her writing a book about her story. Do I think she’s nuts? Yes, my risk-averse self thinks she’s wild, but my inner goddess is jealous and wants to grow up and be like Jenn. Jenn has a unique attitude that nothing can or ever will hold her back. She’s my real-life Forrest Gump.

Never did I doubt, while we were staring blankly into computer screens back in that Chicago corporate office, or now while she returns to Lake Michigan and Liv, that Jenn would make good of it all. Go Jenn, Go!

I would redefine the word “overwhelm”. In a positive sense, in the most beautifully positive and impactful way possible.  Because if I could find a way to put it into words and describe it, it might just describe the way I feel this very moment. I wonder if the way I feel could ever fit into one word-but I’ll try.

I am overwhelmed. If that’s the word that could describe it-at the massive amount of people who have reached out to me to tell me that they support me, they love me-that they want me to carry on.

I am overwhelmed in many ways-and I’m uncertain of how to express or what to ask for. But I think I need your help, your patience and your understanding as I figure that out.

Due to the size and undertaking of this trip and the recent impact it has had not only on the breast cancer community-but for victims of sexual assault-I am beyond overwhelmed. So I have to ask- please forgive me if I don’t know what to say. Forgive me if I don’t know how to act. In a time where so much has happened to me- I’m just trying to absorb all the good and I don’t know how that is manifesting, or looks, or is different than what it looked like before.

When I see a familiar face or someone that loves me-I don’t want what happened to me be to be the thing I see in their eyes or feel in their arms when they hold me.

Tomorrow I’m getting in my boat.  And when I get into the sleeping cabin to chart my course I could choose to remember the horrific thing that happened to me.  I could make that choice. Or, I could choose to remember the beautiful nights I’ve looked up at a massive amount of stars that I ever knew existed. In silence, in beauty, alone, safe and humbled.  I could choose to remember the nights I fell asleep after meeting survivors and supporters from all over the country-who met me, fed me, hugged me, loved me-before I stepped into Liv to rest my mind and body each night. Each beautiful night, for weeks on end.

I could focus on the overwhelming outpour of support that has come my way since I was in this boat. Since black chalk lined the cabin and doors to take finger prints from someone who took away a moment of my life I never want to re-live.

I could focus on those few terrible moments. I could let those few minutes take away more seconds, more minutes, more days and weeks and years of my life. But I won’t. Why? Because I have a choice.

And I choose to get in that boat with a smile on my face tomorrow morning. I choose to row-proudly for something I believe in. To keep moving. To get back to Chicago and celebrate the lives we’ve changed, will change-and continue to inspire others by finishing what I started.

Thank you for overwhelming me. I could not be more hopeful and excited about all that’s ahead.

I’ve said it once, I’ve said it twice-and I’ll say it again with more confidence beaming from every syllable than ever before…

I’VE GOT THIS.

GO ROW.

A lot of you probably don’t know me. Or know me well, at least.

You’ve seen my pictures, and you’ve heard my members speak out about various things. I’m made of borrowed equipment, a polluted, dirty river, missing boat plugs, dusty erg rooms, malfunctioning boat speakers…

I’m also made of 40 or so strongly beating hearts. Hearts that pounded when they felt a lump. Hearts that sank when they heard the words “chemo” and “reconstruction.” And hearts that sang when they got in a boat and felt it.

I’m made of sweat, and nerves, and triumph. I’m made of frustration, bad days, and catching crabs. Pulling together gets mentioned a lot.

I’m the ROW team.

And I have some amazing people pulling for me. Pulling with me.

When I first met Jenn, I (not kidding) immediately thought, “Oh god. Gross. A happy person.” A week later, I found myself dragging my lazy butt out of bed to meet her at the lagoon every morning at 6 to row in a double at LPBC. The next week I showed up at ROW practice and never really stopped after that.

I have been a ROW coach for over three years now, and Jenn is one of my dearest, dearest friends. I’m not ready to talk about what she went through earlier this week, in any capacity. But as the person who was lucky enough to be trusted with Jenn’s “baby,” the ROW team, while she’s away, I thought it would be important to tell everybody a bit about exactly who she’s doing it for, and some of the reason she pulls so hard for this team.

Rowing is reserved for the toughest of the tough, people who must train their bodies to exude grace, even when essentially completing a deadlift with every race stroke. The women who join the ROW team seem to be able to sense that about rowing. For many of them, you’d never guess they had cancer unless they told you. From the outside, you’d have no idea what kind of a fight they’d been through to be who they are now — whether they’ve been cancer-free for twenty years, five days, or whether they fight the fight every day.

As an outsider looking in, it seems that these are all the type of women who don’t want to sit in a circle and cry about what was dealt to them in life. They’re problem solvers, they’re active, they’re strong, they’re smart, and they want to come to terms with their feelings in a place with like-minded women where they can equally keep to themselves and leave frustrations and grief on the erg or in the boat, and simultaneously have an amazingly strong support network.

Jenn and I personally strive to treat every single woman who hops on the erg or walks through the gate at the rowing site as an athlete. All of our rowers come to the team with a different attitude in regards to health, weight, cardio fitness level, strength level — and ROW makes many of them see themselves as an “athlete” for the first time in their lives. We’re very careful to not treat them like they’re sick or have been sick — they set their own limits (hopefully at a level higher than they thought!), and all of the coaches then respect that. But ROW is about being an athlete first.

These women radiate inner poise, beauty, and strength that I feel myself absorb at every single practice. I seriously hope that I can even manage to give them back a part of what they, and Jenn, have given me over the years. (I’m terrible at expressing that).

All of this sparked from one woman’s idea. It’s taken it’s own shape and had its ups and downs. But the reciprocal relationship between this team and what Jenn is out there doing is intrinsically and cosmically connected. She was hurt, we were hurt. She has a good day, we have a good day. She feels like she’s flying on a bike, we fly with her.

Doubles for life, Jenn. I miss you and I can’t wait for you to come home safe.

- Sheena