I'm headed for a Saturday morning workout with my fitness trainer. For one hour, I will physically challenge my body and emotionally charge my spirits. I will sweat and pant and if I am required to do the inner thigh exercise, I will scream. I will also whine -- it's in my nature -- and I will push, pull, bounce, balance, lift, squat, lunge, and run until it's quitting time. I will fall short on some of my exercise expectations. And I will surprise myself and exceed others. In the end, I will feel accomplished, strong, motivated, and ready to tackle the day.

I'm making a comeback. I have come back from the depths of cancer and all of its accompanying treatment, and I have invited this powerhouse of a girl to transform me. She has accepted the challenge -- and she has helped me evolve from a weak, shaky, dizzy cancer patient to a semi-strong, 5K-running breast cancer survivor with biceps that are almost visible at a close distance.

This spunky fitness girl -- also an accomplished kick boxer, wife, and mom of two little ones -- has accepted another one of my challenges. I asked her to share some of her health and fitness expertise so that we all may reap the benefits. And so she kindly extracted some important tidbits from her vast library of knowledge and concisely crafted the responses that follow.

Take it from Fitz Koehler -- exercise and healthy eating habits are key for survival. For all of us. Cancer survivors included.

Why is fitness important for everyone?

100% of the population needs to exercise in some way. For the most part, if you're not working to get stronger, you're going to get weaker. Whether it's tummy time as an infant, gym class as a kid, weight training as an adult, or short walks as a senior, in order to live well and live long, we must eat well and exercise. Plus, a fit lifestyle prevents so many horrible ailments and diseases -- heart disease, some cancers, diabetes, GERD. Who wants any of that?

In the moment of despair, the cliche time heals all wounds may seem anything but comforting. But that's because it's true. It takes time to heal and we are not in the right frame of mind just as something unfortunate has happened to accept -- or believe -- this advice that might come flowing from a well-wisher's lips. It's popular wisdom. It's commonly offered as comfort. It's easy to spit out. And while our wounds do not exactly fade with the passage of time, we are able to put a more positive spin on them. But it's tough to appreciate this until the unfortunate moment is long gone.

According to a recent study -- summarized in the September 2006 Ladies Home Journal magazine -- memories of distressing events, like the death of a loved one, don't go away but they do gradually get colored by more hopeful emotions. As time passes, we tend to remember strongly emotional experiences as positive even if they were once harrowing. "People are resilient," says one researcher. "We come to terms with our experiences in as positive a way as we can." So we may eventually see the death of a friend as something that made us stronger, something that reminds us to treasure our friendships. Our ability to find such meaning in the saddest of times helps transform it into a valuable experience -- and not just a sad one.

And this is exactly how I feel about having had cancer. No one could have convinced me at the time of my diagnosis that time would heal my wounds. I wasn't even sure how much time I had left on this planet. I was panic-stricken and frightened and tended to defeat conventional wisdom. But now that two years worth of time has passed me by and I am pretty certain I will continue surviving for a long time, I realize time is responsible for my positive outlook. Time did not completely heal my wounds -- I still have days when my wounds are raw -- but it surely bandaged them. And so I do believe time heals all wounds -- in a way -- and I am thankful for each moment of time I have to marvel at this truth.

My breast cancer friend Adriene -- who I wrote about on May 19 -- e-mailed me today about a friend of a friend who was just diagnosed with breast cancer. This friend -- Jen -- is 31 years old and just yesterday had a lumpectomy. Adriene asked if I could be in touch with Jen since, like her, I am young and I am a breast cancer survivor and I had a lumpectomy. So far, we are somewhat alike. And depending on the results of Jen's pathology report, we may be even more alike -- if she follows a path anything like mine that included chemotherapy and radiation therapy and Herceptin therapy -- or our paths might diverge from one another. Regardless, I feel a connection to this woman, much like I do with anyone with cancer whose path I cross, anyone who is sent my way, anyone who finds me for the sole purpose of support.

So I told Adriene in my return e-mail, "Yes, I will contact Jen." And I have already sent her an e-mail. And I hope when she reads it that she finds a trace of comfort, a hint of encouragement, a glimpse of hope that can somehow transform scared souls into confident spirits. I hope that she emerges from under the rock of breast cancer. Like I did. Like Adriene did.