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.

Major League Baseball and the Prostate Cancer Foundation teamed up this year to form the Home Run Challenge in honor of Father's Day. Their gift to father's across the country: for each home run hit in 60 selected games between June 6 and today, June 17, raised money for prostate cancer, the second most common cancer for men in the United States.

Some fans of this cause made pledges; some posted online tributes to their dads at Dockers San Francisco. For every message submitted, the company donated one dollar. Some messages were even shown in Times Square for all to see.

I just checked the status of the Home Run Challenge on this Father's Day morning and found the most updated total of home runs to be 91. Leading the accomplishment are Ken Griffey, Jr., Alex Rodriguez, and Alfonso Soriano. The current Team Home Run leader: the Cincinnati Reds.

This past mothers day weekend I attended the Shirley Mae Run & Gilda's Club Walk held in Atlantic City, New Jersey. It was a beautiful Saturday to take a stroll on the boardwalk. My dad flew in from Arizona for the event and my mom drove from Philadelphia. I'm very lucky that my parents are so supportive.

The Shirley Mae Breast Cancer Assistance Fund was started by Roy Goldberg to honor his mother, Shirley Mae, who survived breast cancer. The fund assists breast cancer patients in the south-eastern area of New Jersey with the cost of medicine, wigs, prostheses, and anything else needed to relieve financial stress so they can focus on healing and becoming survivors too.

I'm a good runner when it comes to the right state of mind and the right weather. I have to feel a spark of motivation to know I'll succeed at running, and I prefer cool temperatures. Something in the low 70s or below is perfect. When it's hot and steamy and humid in my Florida town, I tend to struggle. Like I did today.

I set out for a three-mile run with my head in the game. The air was a bit too warm for my liking, but I pushed myself anyway. For a good long time, I did well. With loud music blaring on my MP3 player and a steady pace, I conquered about 75 percent of my goal. Then something happened. I felt my body slow, and my feet wanted to stop. They almost did. Instead of giving in and giving up, though, I pushed myself to finish. In the end, it felt good.

My advice to you today is this: just when you feel you are fading, fading, fading -- don't quit. Try to get through the moment and you'll likely find some energy to keep plugging away.

I'm trying to keep breast cancer away. I've had it once, and I really don't want it again. So I am committing myself to all strategies for keeping the disease out of my life -- like eating right, maintaining a normal weight, not drinking, not smoking, and as of yesterday, exercising strenuously.

New research shows strenuous exercise is what it takes to minimize the risk of breast cancer. Not moderate. Strenuous.

OK, I'm on board.

Now I've been a student of moderate fitness for most of my life. But now I'm embracing this new approach, this new way of pushing my body to its near limits. I figure if my choice is cancer or strenuous exercise, I better take the route that will leave me sweating and huffing and puffing, not sick and weak and bald. And so yesterday I took my first stab at what I will try to do at least five hours per week -- what experts say it takes to make a difference.

It all started with a warm-up lap on my treadmill -- just one lap at 4.5 miles per hour. Then I upped my speed to 5.3 and ran for a mile and a half. I continued running for another half mile at 6 miles per hour and then began walking again. I started at incline 1 for one minute, then moved to incline 2 for one minute, then incline 3 for one minute, and so on until I reached incline 10. My goal was to then continue walking while decreasing the incline each minute for ten minutes -- but I was so out of breath and fatigued, I jumped the incline down to 4 for one minute, then did 3 for one minute, 2 for one minute, 1 for one minute, and then I stopped. The whole process took about 40 minutes and left me soaked with sweat and gasping for air. Then, just in case my workout wasn't strenuous enough, I did 20 push-ups, a handful of sit-ups, and a few other floor exercises before heading to the shower.

So that's my version of strenuous. Now, I don't plan to do this same exact routine for all five hours I must complete each week, but I do intend to sweat and huff and puff just as much as I did yesterday. Because if strenuous is what it takes to ward off evil cancer cells, then I'm game.

I like to exercise. I like the challenge, the sweat, the mental release, the physical results, the time to myself. I like everything about it -- practically.

What I don't like about exercise is the pressure to accomplish the feat over and over again for the rest of my life. For years, the pressure I put on myself was palpable. I thought about exercise all the time. I stressed about what to do and when to do it. I fought to convince my kids to climb into a double stroller long after they were too big to sit comfortably in the wobbly contraption and when I found time to exercise all by myself, I struggled with an overwhelming desire to spend quality time with my little boys. I felt rushed to complete my workouts -- because my kids were waiting, dinner was waiting, work was waiting.

I was faithful about exercising -- even through treatment for cancer -- because of my self-induced pressure and despite the stress and worry it caused me. And then something happened.

It was probably a combination of cancer and my relentless push for physical fitness that caused my body to crash. I became tired and exhausted and could barely lift my legs to walk up the neighborhood hills I typically conquered with ease. My oncologist told me to stop, to give my body a break, to let go of my high expectations. He advised me to exercise two to three times per week -- and that's it.

It took some time but I have finally embraced this approach. I have abandoned schedules and routines and plans and I now exercise when I can, when it fits into my day, when I really want to do it. My fitness trainer friend Fitz, a new blogger on That's Fit, wrote in one of her first posts that we should all stop trying to get fit -- and we should just do it. "Don't wake up tomorrow with the idea of trying to go for a jog," she says." "Get up and go for a jog! Put it in your planner and make it happen."

Fitz might not like my approach, but I have stopped putting exercise on my planner. For me, this works. It takes away the pressure, the stress, the worry. It gives me peace to confront each day free of exercise anxiety. It makes me happy to tackle exercise on my own terms, without some preconceived notion of what I should be doing.

I should share something else about myself. I am a perfectionist. I want everything to be just right. As child, I tore up drawings that may have had one stray mark. I wouldn't leave my house for school until my ponytails were flawless. My house is clean and neat, my toenails are pedicured and painted, my hair is styled just so. Perfectionism, sometimes just a step away from obsession, can be an unhealthy practice. And for me, exercise was becoming an emotionally unhealthy endeavor.

I am confident my perfectionist tendencies will keep me in the exercise loop for all of time. Just knowing I need exercise will propel me to conform. But I must say that I am so relieved to have let go of some of my exercise burden.

I like exercise. I really like it. And today, when I ran three miles -- because I had the time and felt up for the task -- it was refreshing, empowering, cleansing. I think it's the lack of pressure that allowed me to lose myself in the moment today. For me, letting go of exercise has lightened the load.

A friend of mine with breast cancer just sent out an update e-mail to friends and family. She began her message with an apology for her recent lack of communication. But she assured us all that she's been out of the loop not because she's felt sick or tired. It's because she's been too busy with normal life. And that's a good thing, she says.

This friend wasn't so sure how she would fare -- both physically and emotionally -- when she was first diagnosed with cancer. But she seems to have done a champion's job of rolling with the punches. Sure, she's had ups and downs. But she is overwhelmingly positive and hopeful. And jumping off my computer screen as I read her e-mail were at least seven bits of hope that tell me she is doing just fine despite all that is unbelievably hard about breast cancer.

My friend just had her first infusion of Taxol. A breeze, she calls it. One. So easy on her body -- two -- that she headed right out and took her daughter communion dress shopping. Her little love looked beautiful, she wrote. Like a mini-bride. The mother of the mini-bride then -- three -- turned a sad moment into a comforting one when her daughter asked, "Mommy, who do you think will bring me wedding dress shopping?"

Valerie Monroe, beauty director for The Oprah Magazine, writes a monthly column -- Ask Val -- that appears on the pages of Oprah's feel-good publication. She responds to questions about make-up, skin care, hair care, and overall body care too.

In her February 2007 column, Val writes, "Many of you have written to tell me that you began to be less critical of your body when you appreciated the things it could do." As I read this, I had what Oprah would call an Aha! moment, a moment when something just clicks and makes sudden sense. Aha!, I thought, as I considered all the things my body can do, completely independent of how I look on the outside. So while I was jogging today -- my body can now easily run three miles -- I ran through all of my body's accomplishments, and I stored them in the files of my mind so I could later write them down.

Here are seven things my body can do. As you read them, consider your own body -- its strength, its power, its capacity for greatness -- and remind yourself of your wondrous self the next time you start to criticize the way you look.

• My body can partner in the creation of human life. It can carry babies and deliver them and love them and care for them and raise them. Not all bodies have this power. I am lucky.

• My body can climb an attic staircase, crawl into cramped and dark corners, pull large boxes out of wedged spaces, drag them back to the staircase, and walk backwards down the stairs with goods balancing on my head so that I can fulfill the wish my five-year-old child who wanted so badly in early November to assemble our Christmas tree and decorate our house for the holidays. "Let's wait until Daddy gets home," I told Joey when I found myself crammed into a tiny space in the attic, wrestling with a heavy box full of artificial tree parts. "You can do it, Mommy," Joey said. "You are strong." And so I fought my way through the frustrating feat because I was afraid of the lessons I would teach this little boy if I didn't. In the end, it was Joey who taught me the lesson. I can do it. I am strong.
  

• My body can endure and conquer a 5K run when it once could barely run around the block. With a little extra effort and push, I think my body can accomplish even more.

• My body, once weak and without definition, can lift increasingly heavy weight and can generate muscle tone. It can even do push-ups -- real push-ups. It takes dedication and practice and persistence and mental toughness too. But I see progress. I feel progress. And I want more.

• My body can help others. I can use my fingers to type words on a keyboard that will reach friends and family and people I don't even know. My words can inform and support and encourage and heal. I can use my hands and my semi-creative talents to create hand-made gifts, to cook and deliver very mediocre meals for friends in need, to massage my husband's sore back, to braid my niece's beautiful hair and paint her tiny nails. I can use my arms to hug my little boys with all my might. I can use my voice to communicate, my ears to listen, my senses to feel.
  

• My body can tolerate surgery and chemotherapy and radiation and horrible allergic reactions to antibiotics. My body was badly beaten by a treatment protocol intended to cure me of a disastrous disease. And somehow, in some way, it survived.
  

• My body killed cancer. With the aid of medical intervention and a hopeful attitude, my body overcame the worst and best thing that has ever happened to me. And if it could do nothing else, I would be truly happy for this one thing my body can do.
  

Sometimes all it takes is a small gesture to warm the heart of a cancer patient. It doesn't take anything huge. It shouldn't cause any stress or discomfort. And it shouldn't require a whole lot of thought. It should be simple. Simply simple.

A whole lot of small gestures spread a whole lot of cheer my way when I was knee-deep in cancer treatment and needed a lift. Cozy socks kept my feet and my spirits toasty. A package of brownies sweetened my sour days. Flowers brightened my dining room and my state of mind. Books left on my doorstep delivered knowledge and wisdom and a bit of humor to my world.

The options for spreading sunshine are endless. The list of possibilities could go on and on. Here is just a start -- a small list of small gestures that can make a dreary day downright delightful.

Give a hug
Send a handwritten letter
Make a homemade card
Write a poem
Give a journal
Deliver a candle
Make a home-cooked meal
Arrange for food delivery
Babysit children
Play with children
Drive to appointments
Go wig or hat shopping
Visit during chemotherapy sessions
Give something comfy -- socks, pajamas, hat
Do grocery shopping
Accompany to lunch, dinner, movie
Take a walk
Attend church
Have a picnic
Go fishing
Make a donation to favorite charity
Walk, run, volunteer, raise funds in honor of your special someone

Be specific in your gesturing. Trade a comment like "let me know if I can do anything" for "I'm going to come over and wash and clean your car on Saturday." Vague offers are rarely successful -- cancer patients are not likely to recall every general offer they receive and then manage them all into a schedule. It's just too much to consider in the midst of turmoil. But an offer that comes to life right before them is easy. It's effortless. It is truly a gift. A simple, priceless gift.

I am in awe at this very moment, after receiving a generous donation -- from a friend I have not seen in nearly five years -- for the Making Strides Against Breast Cancer 5K Walk I plan to run in less than two weeks. I am not in awe simply because of this one donation. I am in awe of the combination of generous donations I have received over the past two months. My grand total right now -- headed for my local American Cancer Society team and earmarked for use in my own city -- is $3,808. My goal is $4,000.

I don't take any credit for this large sum of money that will earn me recognition on the day of the event. I merely reached out to friends and family and they delivered. Day after day, donations as high as $250 flow my way -- and while the American Cancer Society and cancer patients in North Florida stand to profit because of my giving support network, it occurs to me that I may be the biggest winner to cross the finish line. Me -- one woman, one cancer survivor, with one inspiring crowd rallying to support -- me.

It doesn't matter what I do on the day of the race -- although I do hope to accomplish my personal physical challenge -- because I have already done what I set out to do. I raised funds for a fabulous cause. And I gained a little something -- well, a big something -- in the process. I witnessed the wonder of overwhelming kindness. And for that, I am nothing less than grateful.

Grey's Anatomy has teamed up with Warriors in Pink in a sweepstakes called Gear Up with Grey's Anatomy. The Warriors in Pink Prize Package winner will receive a 2007 Ford Fusion, a trip to the Grey's Anatomy set, and a Warrior in Pink apparel package including gear autographed by the cast of Grey's Anatomy. No purchase is necessary to win and the deadline to enter the sweepstakes is 11:59 PM (EST) on December 31, 2006. For more details, and to enter the sweepstakes, visit Warriors in Pink Gear Up with Grey's Anatomy Sweepstakes.

In addition, Warriors in Pink has launched a magnificent virtual quilt online. Breast cancer survivors and co-survivors are invited to contribute to the quilt with a personal message of encouragement, inspiration, love, support and celebration by designing a symbolic patch that will then be added to the Virtual Quilt online. According to the keepers of the Warriors in Pink Virtual Quilt, "There is strength in numbers, and decorated with the Warriors in Pink symbols, each patch is a personal message for friends and loved ones. Experience the vastness and behold the Warriors in Pink beautiful and valiant fight against breast cancer."

The Virtual Quilt is also available as a screensaver. To date, there are 2740 patches. To visit, the Virtual Quilt requires Flash Player 8 or higher.

To help promote Ford and Ford dealers Warriors in Pink campaign to fight breast cancer, the television cast of Grey's Anatomy Seattle Grace Hospital Derek Shepherd, Preston Burke, George O'Malley, Alex Karev, Richard Webber, Callie Torres, Cristina Yang, Miranda Bailey and Addison Shepherd have agreed to raise awareness by appearing in celebrity ads wearing Warrior In Pink clothing.

"We recognize the strength and courage it takes to deal with the everyday challenges of fighting breast cancer. We wholeheartedly support breast cancer awareness and eradication and are proud to be affiliated with Ford's Warriors in Pink program," said Shonda Rhimes, executive producer of Grey's Anatomy. "We're committed to the Warrior fighting spirit and urge everyone to play a role in the battle against breast cancer."

With drums banging and faces painted, Warriors in Pink take part in Susan G. Komen Race for the Cure events each year. In the last 12 years, Ford and Ford dealers have supported the Komen Foundation with contributions of more than $87 million dollars in donations. For more information on the Warriors in Pink, becoming a warrior, supporting warriors through clothing and gear purchases, and what the symbols they use represent, visit our past post Warriors in Pink: believers survivors fighters.

After my breast cancer diagnosis, I received endless offers from friends and family who offered to help me. I was offered meals, babysitting, errands, escorts to appointments, and two faraway friends even told me they would hop on a plane in an instant to come stay with me. I accepted a tiny bit of help -- like a meal here and there and a morning of babysitting -- but I really did not want much assistance. Mostly because I am do-it-myself type of person and however unhealthy this can be -- especially in the midst of a health crisis -- I wanted my life to remain as normal as possible. And if that meant taking care of my kids, despite nausea and fatigue, I wanted to do it. I wanted to be the one in the driver's seat on my way to treatments and procedures. And I wanted to run my own errands. Part of me believed that accepting help meant I was really sick. And I couldn't admit that. Yet it was true. I was sick. I needed help.

And I need help now too -- while I am healthy and strong and able to do everything for myself. And maybe that's why I am able to ask for it -- because it doesn't require my confession that something in my life is not alright. And actually, asking for this type of help helps me express that I am really okay, that I am able to use my health to help others.

Melissa Etheridge's song Run for Life -- inspired by her own personal battle with breast cancer -- plays just as the pink and white SUNCHIPS® website is opened. And visitors to the site learn quickly that they can contribute to the Crunch for the Cure campaign by simply purchasing a bag of specially-marked SUNCHIPS® and entering in the special printed code here. For each code entered through December 15, 2006, SUNCHIPS® brand will donate .25 cents to the Susan G. Komen Breast Cancer Foundation in support of its breast cancer initiatives. A pink breast cancer ribbon is the special mark on these bags of SUNCHIPS®, signifing a partnership in the fight against breast cancer.

This website also includes information about breast cancer, about Susan G. Komen races and volunteer opportunities -- and it even provides a means for thanking favorite Race for the Cure® volunteers. Readers can post their own thank-you messages that will appear on a virtual thank you wall.

Thank you SUNCHIPS® for your commitment to this cause.

University of South Australia researchers have good news for people trying to lose weight, or maintain a healthy weight, in improving their health and reducing their risks for diseases like cancer. With no other lifestyle changes, taking omega-3 fish oil supplements and engaging in moderate exercise helped people struggling with weight issues -- who are overweight or obese -- effectively burn off extra pounds.

The researchers used tuna oil and sunflower oil in the study, and compared the effects of the two oils with exercise to weight loss results. The participants engaged in exercise that is considered moderate exercise -- walking or running for 45 minutes -- three times a week for three months and were given either tuna fish oil or sunflower oil. The participants who were given tuna fish oil lost weight faster.

The researchers believe that fish oil, which is rich in omega-3, helps the body burn fat, and estimates that most people do not get enough omega-3 in their daily diet. Omega-3 is also found in wild salmon, flaxseed, and certain nuts and seeds.