Right now, after that title, I can tell you I feel like Jean Valjean. 😉 Fortunately, there won’t be any snappy prisoner number at the end of this blog. I do reserve the right to throw in a gratuitous “42” somewhere.

When I had my daughter, I became a personal trainer. Most reasonably sane people do that before giving birth, but I’ve always liked being an oddball. Or, “quirky,” as a former employer used to say.

I worked with “special populations”: clients with fibromyalgia, MS, post-op clients, post-physical therapy clients. Very few of the people I trained were just there to lose some weight and build some muscle. They were there because their lives depended upon it. Yes, I include enjoyment of life in that description.

I have a passion for helping others.

From the time I was young, I was writing. I’m fortunate to have two loves – the writing and health/fitness. It’s even better when they dovetail for me.

Now, I’m writing books. I’ve put together a few modest training programs for individuals who have asked. And I volunteer my time to anyone who asks for help/advice/support when they find out they have cancer. No, I don’t spend days at the local American Cancer Society. Word of mouth brings people to me, so much so that I haven’t sought out anyone, I just give of my time and experience to anyone who asks. This sounds willy-nilly, I know. In my coaching group, I described myself as an accidental coach. My life experience and experience through breast cancer gave me a different viewpoint, and I don’t ever want someone to be afraid to ask a question. That’s my extra family: that strange sisterhood of those of us who are missing some body parts or regrowing hair.

When I have to write a “blurb” about myself, it’s usually quite short: mother, partner, writer, breast cancer survivor. But I thought I should more formally introduce myself here, since I think I never bothered to do that before.

Happy Monday, and blessings to you all…

Ahem.  42.