On Sunday September 16, 2007, The Colosseum Gym will be hosting the 1st Annual Lift for the Cure: Powerlifting and Bench Press Competition. All proceeds to help benefit the Ulman Cancer Fund for Young Adults. This will be an OPEN meet limited to 60 lifters. All weight classes will be honored, including a separate Law Enforcement Division (Top Cop Award). This will be a unsanctioned RAW meet (belts and wraps only). USAPL rules apply.

Guest Judge and exhibition lift by 7-time USPF National Champion and 6-time IPF World Champion, "Captain Kirk" Karwoski.

The $25 application fee/donation includes a unique event t-shirt, food and refreshments and the opportunity to help a great cause. Event categories include Squat/Bench/Deadlift OR Bench only. Weigh in time is 8 am - 9am. Lifting will start at 10 am. Limited to 60 lifters.

Spectators are welcome! The $5 spectator donation to The Ulman Cancer Fund for Young Adults includes food and refreshments. Children under 6 are free. Shirt sales and vendors will be on the scene.

The event will be held at The Colosseum Gym located at 9195F Red Branch Road, Columbia, Maryland.

More on the Ulman Fund and how it came about.

It's my boys who distract me most from exercise. That's just the way it is. They're kids. They have needs and wishes and demands that keep me busy from sun-up to sun-down. It's hard to find time for fitness. I don't go to a gym. I prefer to use my own treadmill, walk the seven hills in my neighborhood, run outdoors, and conduct my scrunching, pushing, lunging, squatting, and resisting in the privacy of my own home. I don't have a gym membership with free childcare offerings or a list of babysitters who will come to my rescue when I need to huff and puff. I have me, my kids, and the hours in the day, though. And I am trying desperately at fitting fitness in.

Today, after enduring what seemed like endless little-boy fighting and tormenting, I determined my guys needed a workout just as much as I did. I threw them in the car. I threw their scooters, a big wheel, and a football in the car too. We drove to a nearby community college track, unloaded ourselves and our gear, and got to work. I ran two miles. And six-year-old Joey and four-year-old Danny scooted, pedaled, walked, ran, climbed a pile of dirt, and threw their football until their faces were splotchy from the heat, their little bodies zapped with fatigue.

Our whole fitness feat took no more than one hour and ended as we guzzled water and poured our sweaty selves back into the car. Back home, I felt so much better about my day. And I was better equipped for the fighting that continued as soon as we walked in the door.

I just ran three miles on my treadmill. I have never been the athletic one in my family. My sister is the one who was born with the athletic streak -- she played softball and lettered in tennis after giving the sport a try with no previous experience and may have helped her high school basketball team win a state championship if it weren't for the major knee injury she suffered just before the big game. I, on the other hand, was born with a streak that has something to do with hair, nails, and lots of shoes. I was never interested in sports, gym shorts, or sweating -- which is what makes running three miles a big deal for me.

I wish I had started running long ago -- because I really like it. I like the loud music that pumps through my MP3 player and the change in my cadence as each new song begins. I like the motivation of knowing I'm pushing my body and accomplishing a physical challenge. I like that my endurance improves with each mile I travel. I like the mental release and the thoughts that run through my head and the cleansing effect I get from running. And I like sweating.

It's possible running would not have appealed to me long ago, even if I had given it a try -- because times were different long ago. I was healthy. I was happy. And I had no reason to marvel at the possibilities of my body. Without a natural impulse for physical fitness and challenge, I was completely satisfied with the status quo. But now I have an acquired impulse -- because cancer has threatened the very body I once took for granted. And I want it to be strong. I want it to be healthy. I want it to stand up to any possible threat. So I run. And when I am not running, I look forward to running.

In just a few weeks, I will run in the 5K Making Strides for Breast Cancer event with my athletic sister. I will run by her side. With my loud music for motivation. With the inspiration that I am making a difference for my body and for women everywhere. With my gym shorts on. And a ball cap covering my hair. With sweat dripping down my face. I can't imagine a better feeling.

Cancer has helped me slow down -- a little. I am more patient in the moment without racing to the next task I think is waiting for me. I can better manage my priorities and can offer the most important things the majority of my time. I am better at passing on opportunities that are low on my wish list. And I can typically say "no" if I don't have the time or energy to devote to a request. I know that I have to be healthy and happy and fulfilled in order to operate effectively and joyfully in this world. So I try to enjoy peaceful moments and put priorities first and not overextend myself and slow down. I'm not completely there -- yet. But I plan to keep practicing. And I'm going to try these seven strategies -- offered by a freelance writer, wife, mother of two, and reformed over-committer -- in an article I stumbled across in a local family magazine I picked up this week.