1 CHAPTER 1 Life Is Great The summer of 1996. My team, the Magnificent Seven, as we would come to be known, walked into the Georgia Dome to 40,000 screaming spectators, flash bulbs going off and a sense that this was our night. By the end of the competition we proudly stood atop the podium, receiving the first Women’s Gymnastics Team Olympic Gold Medal in United States history! It was a magical evening that I will never forget. Several days later I found myself approaching the balance beam on my final night of the individual event finals. The road had been rocky: a stumble during the All Around Finals, a miss during the individual Vault Finals. And now it was down to my last routine. This was my last opportunity to bring home an individual medal for my country and the last 90 seconds of my entire Olympic career! Balance beam: 4 inches wide, 16 feet long. The most feared event in all of gymnastics. Was I ready? That moment was 15 years in the making and I can still remember exactly how I felt when my feet hit the ground on my dismount. A tremendous mix of emotions: joy, excitement . relief. After the competition and a 99-city tour, I went back to school to finish my undergraduate degree and then on to law school at Boston College. Exams and papers were a different kind of work but the lessons I learned through sport came in handy. So much of what we do every day is about setting and achieving goals. My coach used to set the team down on the floor exercise mat at the beginning of each year and pass out index cards. On one side we had to write down our long-term goals. “I want to compete at the Olympic Games!” We had big dreams, but he knew if we didn’t create a plan of action we’d never realize those dreams. On the back side of each card we had to write down our short-term goals. What were those little things we had to achieve every day in order to conquer that long-term goal? Learning a new dismount or sticking my landing, those were short-term goals important to the ultimate goal. I think back to that time and wonder how I got through those tough days of training, 7 hours a day, 6 days a week. It was the plan, the goals that I had set in place which kept me motivated through the injuries, pressure and tedious repetition. After graduating from law school in 2007, I started my foundation to fight childhood obesity and married a wonderful man. Then, in late 2009, I added yet another role: mom. While expecting our first child, I decided to launch my company, Shannon Miller Lifestyle: Health and Fitness for Women. I felt the need to open the lines of communication for women going through similar experiences. I was inspired to provide a forum for women to come together and talk about the issues we face. This took the shape of a content-based website, a weekly call-in radio show, renewed efforts in social media and truly reaching out to women through programs and events that would benefit their overall health and well-being. I became a passionate advocate for women’s health based on my own experiences on and off the competition floor. Life was great. Little did I know, however, that my passions—my background in competitive gymnastics; my role as wife, mother and health advocate—would ultimately save my life. 2 CHAPTER 2 The Diagnosis I’ve always taken good care of myself. My diet and exercise philosophy is one of “everything in moderation.” I try hard to practice what I preach and was eating fairly healthily, exercising regularly 30–45 minutes most days, with a mix of cardio, light weights and flexibility work. But just over one year into motherhood and less than six months after launching my company, I found myself facing the most difficult challenge of my life. It was the holidays and my schedule was crazy. My little boy was more mobile now and I had program launches for my foundation and my company coming up in January. I was going to be out of town on the date of my scheduled yearly physical exam and I didn’t feel any urgency to try and cram it into my overpacked schedule. So why not just put it off until next year? While on the phone, waiting to reschedule, something kept nagging at me. Maybe it was the countless physicians, nurses and survivors I had interviewed over the course of my weekly radio show. Maybe it was the fact that my mother is a cancer survivor, diagnosed in 2008. Or was it that little voice, that angel that tries to steer us in the right direction. Most likely, it was a combination of them all. I followed my gut and took the first appointment available, which happened to be that morning. So when I went to my regular doctor’s appointment in mid-December I got the shock of my life: I had a seven-centimeter tumor on my left ovary. I will never forget that morning. What had seemed a typical appointment quickly snowballed into a whirlwind of tests and exams after the initial cyst was detected. By early January I was hearing words like “mass”, “malignancy” and “cancer.” My world stopped. Everything that I thought was so important now seemed trivial. By January 13th I was in surgery to have the tumor removed. One of the most difficult parts of my journey was being wheeled into surgery not knowing whether the tumor was benign or something much worse. Benign, my biggest concern was not being able to pick up my 15-month old son for 8 weeks during recovery. A difficult thought but certainly something that I could handle. An inconvenience. But if it were malignant? Maybe they would need to perform an entire hysterectomy, in which case I’d never bear more children. What if it had spread? It was out of my hands. I couldn’t control any of it. 3 CHAPTER 3 The Gold Medal Mindset After the surgery, there seemed to be great news. While the tumor was indeed a malignant germ cell tumor, a form of ovarian cancer, it had been caught very early and the prognosis was positive. Both my husband and I breathed an audible sigh of relief. Little did I know that I was in for a one-two punch. A couple of weeks after surgery I got the call. I learned from my oncologist that my pathology reports indicated the tumor was a higher-grade malignancy than originally thought. The typical course of treatment would be nine weeks of very aggressive chemotherapy. That conversation was a game changer. Though I had absolutely no control during surgery, chemotherapy was a process in which I could actively participate in my own health. Up to this point I had felt so useless. The tests were going to detect whatever they detect. My oncologist would perform the surgery, I couldn’t help him there. However, I could participate and be proactive before, during and even after chemotherapy. In gymnastics I never worried about the other competitors. I would win or lose the competition on my own terms. My goal was to prepare and compete to the best of my abilities. To participate as fully as I could. I began to see cancer as my competitor. Not the type of competitor that you race to the finish line. This is the type of competitor that you out- train, out-maneuver. Many times you win the competition before you even step on the floor. You prepare, dig in, and do the work. Chemotherapy was a tool that I could use as part of this strategy. Of course, preparation was key. How could I prepare my body and my mind for this battle? I spoke to my doctor about diet and exercise leading up to and through chemotherapy. I took up walking and swimming, two of the most beneficial ways to stay fit. They were also activities I could handle after surgery. I would have to be conscientious about wearing sunscreen while outside, but I felt these activities would be good ways to get me out of the house and in the fresh air. 4 I began doing at least one long (30–45min) walk each day prior to my treatment. I added some lightweight exercises (2 lbs.) and yoga. In fact, I used the workouts from my Fit Pregnancy DVD because they were a bit gentler on my body while still helping me build my strength. My diet became focused on consuming enough calories to make up for the weight I had lost from surgery, approximately 10 lbs. After talking with my personal physician it became clear that I needed to focus on protein, calcium and water (or other hydration) and not worry too much about fat or calorie content during this time. I have to admit I was pretty excited about the license to eat anything I wanted! Surgery had limited me, chemotherapy would limit me. I don’t deal well with limits and need to maintain some control. Diet and exercise were areas where I could be active in creating the best possible starting point for chemotherapy. I knew the healthier I was going into treatment, the easier and faster my recovery would be. Sometimes it takes a crisis to get us back on track, or to move forward in a new way.