One morning I came across a photo of a man in a big, floppy hat, walking down an empty mountain highway in Colorado. The caption read, “David Kunst, walking through Colorado on his way home to Minnesota to become the first man to walk around the world.”

Wow, I thought, staring at the photo. I didn’t know you were allowed to think of such a thing if you were from Minnesota. Fascinated that the simple movement of putting one foot in front of the other could transport you through countries, across borders, over mountains, and into various cultures, peoples and ideas, I was inspired. “That’s how I want to see the world someday — I’ll walk!” I thought.

But I knew I was thinking way outside the box for a 12-year-old girl from Minnesota, so I tucked the idea into the back of my head.

Fast-forward ahead 22 years, and life’s journey had brought me to living in Vail, CO. A lot of women around me had been diagnosed with breast cancer — friends, colleagues and two aunts, one of whom died from the disease. I got nervous and went to the doctor to get a mammogram, where I was told something that inadvertently changed my life. The doctor said, “You don’t need to worry about getting breast cancer. You can’t get breast cancer if it doesn’t run on your mother’s side of the family.”

After my appointment, I returned to work, where a friend asked how it all went. I told her that I was one of the lucky ones — I can’t get breast cancer. She set me straight. “Of course you can get breast cancer!” she said. “Every single woman in the world is at risk for getting breast cancer! Eighty percent of women diagnosed with breast cancer have no known risk factors at all. The bottom line is that we have no idea what causes breast cancer! This is the sort of bad information that’s going on in the world, and this is what we have to put an end to!” And she fumed about my doctor for the rest of the day.

It was that night walking home that I had my VIV Moment. All the stars aligned, and I knew I would do that walk I’d always wanted to do. I immediately loved the idea of a woman walking for women, educating women all over the world about this disease that unfortunately bonds us all from the smallest nooks to the largest cities.

My head started spinning with all the questions: Can I walk 15 miles a day for 5 years? Is it safe? How do I protect myself? How can I afford it? How do I get sponsors? How do I make a business plan? What countries can I get through? How do I get across the water? And during the last mile walking home that night, I started planning my GlobalWalk for Breast Cancer.

After three years of planning and five years of walking, I, in fact, did finish my walk around the world on July 20, 2004, with 14,124 miles, 22 countries and four continents to raise more than $250,000 for 13 breast cancer organizations around the world.

The majority of fundraising was done with the help of Lions Clubs International, who would pass me from town to town and help plan fundraising events. The more press they generated, the more people on the road got involved. One time, during a traffic jam, I walked right past all the stuck cars until someone knew who I was from the newspapers. When he got out to make a donation, it started an avalanche of donations through the traffic jam.

When possible, I worked with breast cancer organizations in each country. Along with my international sponsor of the Lions Clubs, these groups organized educational forums in many villages in the Third World nations, where local doctors came and spoke to the women of the village in the local language.

There was, of course, the whole series of challenges presented by Mother Nature: a 7.2 earthquake in the Mojave Desert, the “flood of the century” in Brisbane, Australia, the extreme heat (120 degrees Fahrenheit at the highest in India) and the sleet and blizzards of an Iowa December.

There were also the language barriers, of course, the cultural head-butts, particularly when it came to very male-dominated cultures. The biggest challenge was walking through a Muslim country during and immediately after 9/11 as a Jewish American woman talking about breasts.

I’ve been told many times that after hearing me speak or hearing my story, women would book a mammogram. As a motivational speaker, I talk about breast cancer, in particular the importance of early detection and second and third opinions. But the take-away of my speeches is more about perseverance and breaking down those daunting journeys in our lives into very small manageable increments, and taking it step-by-step.

For years, I had suffered from stomach cramps, gas pains and occasional vomiting, as well as bloating, which I covered with baggy clothes. I had been diagnosed with irritable bowel syndrome, which I treated with every pill, liquid and strip that was on the market. None of this helped.

Finally, I had reached the point where I was feeling bad nine days out of 10. My husband called me while I was at work in September of last year and told me that I had a doctor appointment. Reluctantly, I saw this doctor and underwent a sonogram, X-rays, a CAT scan and blood tests — including a celiac blood test. When the results came in, the doctor was so shocked, he asked me to take a repeat blood test. I finally had a diagnosis.

I was angry that I had been misdiagnosed for so long, but then I was happy that I finally knew what was wrong with me, and that I could do something about it.

Celiac Disease is a digestive disorder — a toxic reaction to gluten by the immune system that damages the small intestine and does not allow for the proper absorption of nutrients. (Irritable bowel syndrome affects the large intestine.)

The average time people wait until they get a correct diagnosis for celiac disease is 11 years. It is becoming more common — as many as 1 in 133 Americans are thought to suffer from the digestive disorder — but only 3 percent of the patients have the correct diagnosis. This is something that needs to be changed. If left untreated, the consequences can be serious, and the risks of developing autoimmune disorders, neurological problems, reproductive issues, osteoporosis and cancer are increased.

After eight weeks on a gluten-free diet, I  started to feel better; after four months, I no longer had bloating, gas and pain. Eliminating gluten — found in wheat, rye and barley — has made a big difference in some parts of my body, though I still have foot cramps, no foot padding and hair loss. But without the daily pain and bloating I am able to enjoy more activities.

It’s been very difficult adjusting to my new diet. I went through a down time where I was really depressed about my new diet.  I have always enjoyed eating pastries, pasta, bread, crackers, etc.  Now if I ingest only 1/8 teaspoon of gluten, my small intestine will be damaged for 6 to 8 weeks.  Gluten is hidden in many products and listed under many different names.  I’ve had to learn all this and read all labels very carefully.  When I’m cooking for my family, I can’t taste the food to see if it’s seasoned enough. But I am not tempted to eat the wrong foods because I know what it does to me.

I now have a new life, and I hope my story is helpful to other people who suffer the same symptoms and have yet to be diagnosed.

Because I was afraid to say anything, I wrote poems about what I was going through. I didn’t open up to anyone else about the abuse until I was in my 30s. I felt I was doing alright until my little brother was killed in a motorcycle accident in 2003. That triggered a series of suicide attempts — I would run my vehicle off the road, but that caused only some damage to my truck. One day in 2006, shortly before my 44th birthday, I decided to drown myself. The last thing I remember is lowering myself into the river. I woke up in the hospital. A volunteer fireman had been fishing on the banks and saw me float by and rescued me. The doctors told me I was lucky to survive, without water getting into my lungs or suffering any brain damage.

Whatever is at the other end of this life wasn’t ready for me. I realized during that time that I needed to change. I couldn’t give up. Doctors say I was lucky to get this second chance, but I still didn’t know what to do.

Fortunately, after the last suicide attempt, I was placed in a psychological hospital and received therapy at a healthcare facility, where I could get the help that I needed. During a therapy session, my therapist and I were discussing coping skills and how they help. I thought of my poems I’d written as a product of my abuse and showed her one of them. After she read it, she suggested that I get them published and then re-read them to see how I reacted, to see how I felt and to see if they triggered flashbacks. Looking them over, I thought, “Wow, I actually wrote these.” I had disassociated myself from those poems; it was as if somebody else — the little girl inside of me — had written them.

Several weeks went by and I was in another therapy session discussing coping skills with a new group, and there again I showed them some of my work. They, too, suggested that I get the poems published. I got to thinking, “All these people can’t be wrong — and besides, what is it going to hurt?”

I took my best work, put it together and submitted it to AuthorHouse Publishing and six months later, A Survivor’s Tale (AuthorHouse, 2009) was delivered to my door. It was fantastic — even though the book is self-published, I somehow couldn’t believe I was holding it in my hands. The poems are grouped into chapters detailing my journey, from “The Early Years” to “Dark Moments” to “Guidance and Support.” With these poems that helped me cope with abuse, I want to give a voice to victims and survivors who don’t have voices. I want to let them know that they’re not alone and that there’s help for them.

I realized this when two people I love faced life-threatening health issues. My mother had a stroke and a best friend was diagnosed with ovarian cancer. It was at these moments that I realized what is most important in life, what not to worry about and what it means to be there for other people. These moments opened my eyes to how fleeting our lives are, how precious every day is and how important it is to take care of ourselves. I work out now, not to try to have a perfect body, but to maintain my health. The same goes for what I eat. It changes my whole perspective on life — my mother and my friend have given me so much, but never as much as the wisdom I received through their illnesses.

The show caught my attention as I was channel surfing. It featured a cute guy in spandex with a few friends and a bird working out on the beach. His attitude was so inviting, I couldn’t pass up the show. It was as if he was talking to me through the TV. He said things like, “Get up off of that couch and work out! I can see you!” He also would grab the attention of the tourists who were visiting Hawaii and get them to work out in the middle of the show. His passion was contagious. I couldn’t resist working out with him, and I soon found myself in a routine of positively addicting exercise that would later be the tool that I needed to help me get through some extremely tough life experiences. I learned through Gilad from afar how to manage stress and maintain mobility, strength and flexibility. Thank God for Gilad and his inspiration!

I always wanted to write him and tell him about my weight loss and how he inspired me, but that didn’t happen until many years later, when tragedy struck my life. During my second pregnancy, I gained an unhealthy 80 pounds. Not only did I gain weight, but I developed a crippling autoimmune disorder that would change my life forever. Along with my physical problems, I also developed post-traumatic stress syndrome following my father’s suicide while I was in the hospital having emergency surgery to deliver my daughter.

It’s really difficult to express the extent of the challenges that I was facing mentally and physically. But when I felt like the walls were caving in, my thoughts turned to Gilad and his inspiring, motivational fitness routines. I immediately began to do what I could to exercise. I felt like I could win my life back through fitness. There were many days I could not do it all, but I pushed myself and struggled until I worked the mental and physical pain out of my body. I was determined to win and knew that exercise could get me through. I would often awake in the middle of the night and put on a Gilad workout video and just do it until my fears went away. Working out with his encouragement gave me hope.

It took a lot of hard work, but I pushed hard until, finally, I lost 92 pounds, gained control of the autoimmune disorder, maintained my mobility and regained my quality of life. If it wasn’t for that guy on the beach in the tight spandex pants with the bird, I truly believe I wouldn’t have known about fitness. Gilad instilled in me the empowering feeling of believing in myself, inspiring me to succeed, overcome adversity and be a success story.

Oh yeah, there’s more… I finally wrote Gilad and told him about his inspiration and the positive way it had affected my life. All I wanted was to thank him; I never really expected that he would read my letter. Guess what? He not only read my letter, but I ended up in Hawaii on an all-expense paid trip to work out on the beach with Gilad and his friends. (The bird wasn’t there. You’ll have to ask him what happened to that bird.) It was a dream come true for me. All I wanted was for him to read my thank-you letter. I got more than I ever imagined. As if that wasn’t enough, I was called back to do another promotion in Hawaii. It happened again, and I enjoyed every moment of it!

My life has taken a turn for the best. Tragedy turned to triumph and I’m no longer sulking in self pity. I have a new career path and fitness goals. I truly believe that miracles can happen and fitness is so healthy, mentally and physically.

When Gilad was inducted into the Fitness Hall of Fame, I was there for the ceremony. I also was honored to meet many other fitness celebrities such as Linda Shelton,Tony Little, Keli Roberts, and John Abdo. Meeting all of these fitness experts was so uplifting; I have never felt so inspired!

I still struggle on a daily basis with my medical conditions, but we all have obstacles. I’ve learned that you just have to keep trying, never give up, find that inspiration, believe in yourself — and dream big!

First I found out I had arthritis, then fibromyalgia, rheumatoid arthritis, a deteriorating spine, carpal tunnel, a brain tumor, hearing loss, deteriorating joints, thyroid disease, hiatal hernia, IBS, herniated discs in my neck, and now this surgery for two discs which had been crushing my spinal cord for two years, causing pain in my back, hip and leg and also causing problems with my bladder and bowels.

Yes, it hit me hard that I wasn’t going to make it back to the gym and get into the same shape I had been in years prior. I needed to finally face the fact that I was and would probably always be an invalid. The funny thing is that once I accepted it, it was like this wave of pressure to hurry up before I get too old (I’m 52), was lifted.

While I still get depressed about my health and the pain remains, I now approach everything one day at a time, doing the best I can with what God gave me to work with.

Like so many, I’ve survived severe depression, mine brought on by delayed post traumatic stress syndrome as a result of a childhood stolen by abuse. I have grown past it, however, and now wish to shout to the world that no matter how dark things look, no matter how frightened, alone and bereft you feel, walk towards that little spec of light you can see at the end of the tunnel and live the rest of the life you have. It’s worth it. As long as you have life, you can live, grow and learn to breath in the abundance of joy that surrounds you.

We all have to fight for our freedom. Mine came to me slowly on an emotional and spiritual level, as I broke through (and wrote through) the negative programming imprinted into my young mind. While I feel that many of the lessons I’ve learned were unnecessary, I own all these little snapshots that have come to define who I am.

There is value in every experience. I always try to find that value, even if it is simply to say; “I won’t do that again.” My life experiences have given me a compassion and insight into the human existence that I wouldn’t have otherwise obtained.

I am happy to say that in the process of “life,” I have escaped corporate repression as well. No one ever told me that I could, but in spite of that, I’ve surprised even myself by becoming the founder and president of my own thriving business where I’ve created the opportunity to mentor and tell other women that “You can!”

I love it! It gives me a purpose that I wouldn’t have imagined. I am grateful. My life is full now, and shared with my supportive and incredibly loving husband of 27 years, my three “baby” dogs who love unconditionally (even though they do have their own agenda) and my amazing friends that I sometimes still can’t believe are mine. Every day brings a wonder and appreciation, and with all this, my frightened heart has finally learned to beat loud and strong.

My VIV Moment came only after I survived and was able to look back in hindsight. I lived because I let go and gave into God’s will. For once in my life, fighting was not the answer.

Today, I know that Spirit and the love and prayers of others gave me the strength that my damaged body could not produce. I know that I am never alone and that the care and belief of others can save a life.

I have changed deeply as a result of looking death in the face, and today, I pray for the well-being of others. This is new for me. Today I care about more than just myself. I extend kindness and forgiveness daily, knowing that we all make mistakes and are only human. I try to understand my own and others’ motivations.

My VIV Moment brought me a God I can finally embrace and trust, and today I am content and loved. I am truly blessed and grateful.

Not only that, I’ve also been amazed at how blogging has changed my own view of my life. I see the blessing in each day so much more clearly. The funny bits make my fingers itch for the keyboard. Even the awful moments seem more bearable with the knowledge that I can share them someplace, with people who likely have had similar moments.

Here are just a few of those moments from 2006.

~~~~~~

One night my 7- and 8-year-old sons were getting goofy while emptying the dishwasher, chattering and causing a ruckus. Soon the 7-year-old could be heard singing in a dramatic wavering falsetto, opera-style. The 8-year-old listened to him for a minute, then said, “Boy, when you grow up, you’re going to make a great GIRL!”

~~~~~

My 3-year-old was explaining “Spider-Man” to me the other day. She’s got four older brothers, all of whom like action movies, and you can’t ALWAYS send the kid to bed when the big kids want to watch a movie. So she’s seen “Spider-Man,” and she loves it.

“The Green Goblin is the bad guy. He has wings on his ship like this [her pinky and thumb waggle on either side of her hand like wings]. He flies all around. He always gets the girl. But then Spider-Man saves her. Always he saves her.”

“And then what happens?”

“He kisses her.” Her dimples flash.

“Why?”

“Because he’s her boyfriend. And she’s his girlfriend. They’re like a family.”

“So … why do mommy and daddy kiss?” I ask.

She speaks with certainty. “Because you’re copying Spider-Man.”

So THAT’s where we got the idea.

~~~~~~~

“Dess!” she says imperiously, standing in her diaper this morning and pointing at the closet.

“Boo,” she shouts delightedly, eyes twinkling as her head emerges from the folds of the little dress I am putting on her.

I laugh. “Oh, you look soooo pretty!” I exclaim, straightening the dress as she runs off.

“Ta-da!” she shouts to her brothers as she enters the living room, primed for her daily dose of male adulation. They, of course, happily comply with her expectations.

After all, how could they resist?

~~~~~~~~~~
I’ll let other women enjoy their business suits and elegant lunches — give me macaroni and cheese, and crumbs underfoot and a table full of little ones any day. However, I’ll also need my keyboard so at the end of every day I can re-form the precious moments on the page, and never ever forget how very blessed I am.

Like most women, I have always been many things to many people: daughter, sister, wife, mother, friend and co-worker. Six years ago, in the space of two months, two people close to me died. One was old and at the end of a long life, the other died suddenly and unexpectedly while I was with her. Both of these events made me think very hard about those things I had wanted to do in my life but had not yet done.

I had three goals that I really wanted to accomplish: more education, a higher level of fitness and a new place to live that was less hectic than the Washington, D.C. area where I then resided.

The small items I have on my desk are now reminders of success in achieving two of those goals: a pin from the scientific honor society to which I was admitted during graduate school, a pin that the University of Maryland presented to me upon receiving my master’s degree, and two medals I received when I completed the Marine Corps Marathon two years in a row.

The view from my office window represents success in achieving my final goal: Each day at work, I have the pleasure of looking out at the mountains surrounding Park City, UT, where my family and I moved three years ago.