Or I might turn my back on you and scurry away.

Either way, you will have my answer.

So now I probably confused everyone.

Didn’t Stella have the miracle operation? What happened to “She will be cured, she will be cured……(breathe)?”

Yes, that IS still the hope. But it’s a bit more complicated than that. Let me explain.

As you remember, in June Stella was diagnosed with stage four gastric cancer. The cancer had spread outside her stomach so the standard response — removal of the stomach — was not under consideration. Instead, we embarked on an aggressive schedule of chemotherapy. The hope was that the chemo would slow the spread of the disease.

But it did more. In November a scan showed that there was no more active cancer outside the stomach. Stella’s situation was re-assessed and it was determined that she would be able to have the operation after all. If all the cancer had been killed by the chemo, then there was a chance that the operation would result in a cure.

On January 1, Stella had the operation. When the surgeon saw the extent that the cancer had spread, he elected to perform the “most radical” surgical operation. Stella’s stomach, spleen, gall bladder, and over forty lymph nodes were removed. The tissue that was removed was then sent to the lab to see if any active cancer cells had been “hiding” from the scan.

The report from the lab showed that active cancer cells were indeed hiding from the scan in the tissue outside her stomach. This means one of three things.

Either the cancer is still present in her body and just as cells that were removed in the operation had not been revealed on the scan, she still has more cancer still inside that didn’t show up. This possibility gets the unhappy face.  :(

A second possibility is that there are again more active cancer cells inside her body, but they represent the last remnants of the cancer. Since chemo successfully killed all the rest of the cancer, it makes sense that continued chemo will kill any remainder that is still there. This option gets a neutral face :I

A third possibility is that the cells discovered are the last vestiges of the cancer and since they were removed in the operation, she no longer has any cancer inside. This option, of course, gets the happy face

The problem is that there is absolutely no way to determine which of the three possibilities is the true one. As our Doctor said, Stella’s case is really “outside the box” as far as stomach cancer in concerned. She managed to have an operation for which there had initially been a zero percent chance. So now, the statistics can be thrown away, and we can rewrite the medical journal articles.

Where that leaves us is with a return to chemotherapy. The chemo is either going to kill active cancer cells that are still in her body, or it is simply a precautionary step to make sure that all the cancer is dead. Regardless of which option it is, we will resume the battle where we left off. Although this time our odds are better. Hey, the Giants are only three-point underdogs to win the Superbowl. That’s a hell of a lot better than they were a month ago, right? (If you don’t understand, ask a football fan.)

And so the battle continues. Right now, Stella gains strength every day, but it is not without occasional set-backs. She is trying to eat and drink, but it is difficult. She still has pain from the operation and some days she is not up to “visiting hours.” (So always e-mail before coming over.)

As for me, when she is not doing well, I am not doing well. When she is feeling better, I am feeling better. Catch me on a good day, and I will talk football or biking with you. Catch me on a bad day and I might spit on you. (No, I wouldn’t do that. But I might  just turn my back on you without answering the customary “HowzStella?” greeting.)

Chemo will not be fun. We know that. Just when Stella’s hair has grown back and some of the other side-effects from chemo have disappeared, we have to renew our membership in the club. Once again, we will be spending days at Shaare Zedek and will have a number of “rough patches” coming up.

But we do have a possibility of a cure and THAT is what we must focus on. The big party will have to wait, and we will once again call on Stella’s Army to don your battle gear and jump into the fight.

So Long Cancer Cells

In the TV show “24,” just when it seemed like all the bad guys were dead, the plot would turn and more bad guys would show up. But eventually it was just Jack Bauer and the last remaining bad guy. And we could all get stoked as he showed no mercy and sent the final villain on his way.

I have this dream where Stella finally confronts the very last cancer cell with her chemo gun loaded.

And she kicks its ass.

(If you didn’t get the Giants reference, you probably didn’t get this one, it’s a (mostly) guy thing.)

So we have no choice but to accept the situation and tell those cancer cells that their days are  numbered. (Yeah, I’m in a bit of a rah-rah mood today.)

Yarden Frankl, Neve Daniel

Not Asgad, but you get the idea

A few years ago, someone told me about a mountain bike trail that was supposed to be extremely challenging. The Asgad Ascent is off in the middle of the Judean Desert. I had seen the meandering path listed on my maps, and one day I decided to tackle it. I had been riding that morning with friends by the Dead Sea, and I figured I still had about six hours of daylight left, so why not?

My friends gave me skeptical looks when I announced that I would not be returning to Neve Daniel with them but would instead ride another 80 kilometers in the desert. But I am rather stubborn, so I took as much water as would fit in my backpack and set off alone with the map as my guide.

After a couple hours, I reached the ascent. It looked extremely difficult and the rapidly rising temperature was not going to make it easier. But, I have little common sense in these situations and (after checking in with friends on the cell) up I went.

The trail lived up to its billing. Soon I was marking the journey meter by meter. With so much sand and loose stone, I often slipped backwards and had to “give back” distance. But the whole time I could see the top of the mountain ahead of me. And as the time went by, it no longer looked so far away.

Finally I came up to the summit. I was exhausted but feeling a rush of adrenaline at the thought of conquoring this trail. I put down a foot and spent a few minutes admiring the incredible view, seeing just how far I had been able to ride.

Then I noticed that the trail curved off to my right, out of sight. I prepared myself for a thrilling downhill ride and went around the corner.

Which is when I saw that rather than a descent, the climb simply continued around the corner. I was only halfway up the famed “Asgad Ascent.” I had been fooled by a “false peak.”

I was tired, demoralized, and worried about if I could make it home.

But I had no choice. I called on my cell to check in with friends and started riding up again. I was no longer excited by the challenge. All I wanted was to get back to my car and get home. I spent the next few hours tired, sore, thirsty, and anxious.

Eventually I made it back to the car and returned to Neve Daniel a few minutes before Shabbat.

Stella was cross for me for taking such a foolish risk, and I admitted that she was right. (Although I am still proud in a crazy way at the accomplishment.)

—-

On the treadmill

Stella is recovering from a very serious operation. She is doing great and determined to get her strength back.

The whole ordeal was tough for all of us. Yet in my glorious naivety, I believed that as soon as she recovered from the operation, we could get our lives back. I was so focused on reaching the summit of the surgery, that I convinced myself that it would be a downhill coast from there.

But now I see that we are not done climbing. Getting to and through the op was indeed a huge accomplishment. Yet we are not at the real “peak” yet.  Pathology reports indicate that we will have to continue with some chemo treatments. Although we have indeed climbed very far, we are not quite ready to declare victory and move on.

And so again, I find myself tired, demoralized, and worried.

But we have no choice but to keep going. We have no choice but to keep climbing until we reach the real top and can shout out loud that we did it.

The way ahead will not be easy. We may have to wait a lot longer for the party.

But unlike that day in the desert, I know that we are not alone.

Not by a long shot.

So we will continue the prayers, the chemo, the scans, and anything else we must do. Because no matter how steep the hill, eventually you get to the top.

And I can only imagine how good that will feel.

Yarden Frankl, Neve Daniel

Dear Stella’s Army:

On our flight and since getting home, I keep thinking about what you are doing for my family. To me, you are the meaning of true religion. Your support, kindness, and help to Stella and Yarden, my wonderful grandchildren and to Jerry and myself is beyond what ever the ancient sages could have imagined.

You are truly the interpretation of the Talmud as it should be. I have sat through many a college and graduate course in religion and philosophy and have never really understood what religion is all about until I saw you and your deeds.

The Rabbi who came to talk with Stella right before she left for her most challenging experience (if you don’t count being married to Yarden [HA! -Ed.]), the Rabbi who called from Maryland right after the operation, the unbelievable people who are staying with Stella so she should never be alone in the hospital, the people who kept bringing food so I shouldn’t have to cook, the super people who took me to get the things the children needed, and the ones who kept my husband company while I was gone, the children’s friends who came to keep my grandchildren company so they could get their minds away from what their mother was enduring, the countless other people who kept volunteering anything they could to make the time more palatable – you are truly the reason we have been put on this earth.

Thank you all from the bottom of my heart. I understand your support of Stella – she is one of the most amazingly good people I know.

But your support of Yarden is above and beyond – we all know he is slightly mezhuganah (don’t forget I have known him from birth), so as his mother, I truly thank you.

With much love and gratitude for your unending kindness,

Anthea Frankl

One nurse even gave her the nickname “Stellush Chamuda.” Loosely translated, it means “Dear Stelly.”

Shabbat was an experience, although I much prefer to be home in Neve Daniel. BUT…. if you must spend Shabbat in a hospital….then Shaari Zedek isn’t bad. I don’t think they allow patients to light candles in hospitals in America. Or let the patients’ husbands sleep on the floor. Or enjoy home cooked meals while sitting on the patients’ bed.

By the way, thank you for the food. Although Shaari Zedek provides shabbat food in the dining room, that was not good enough for one of the readers of this blog who lives near the hospital. Right before Shabbat, she sent over so much food that not only was I well fed for both Shabbat meals, but I had enough to share with the two Rachels.

Two Rachels? Yes, these two girls who share a room and first name at a seminary hung out with us. One was a patient and the other kept her company. They were actually on their way to spend Shabbat at Neve Daniel when they had to detour to the emergency room. Since they were missing visiting our wonderful Yishuv, we tried to bring a bit of the Neve Daniel warmth to them. Yes, even in a hospital bed my wife seems to attract guests to our Shabbat “table.”

Stella, unfortunately, did not have the best Shabbat. She is so determined to get better, but recovery from such extreme surgery is not easy. As the surgeon told us originally, recovery is not a simple progression. It is always a few steps forward and a few back. But at this point, she can read and may even be ready to go on her laptop and respond to the e-mails herself.

My parents had come to help out with the kids and my Dad lamented that he wasn’t in good enough shape to really help Stella. But I pointed out, even I cannot really help her. I can sit by her side, but the strength to get better is something only she can summon.

With a small number of friends, we have made sure she is never alone in the hospital. She does not like the fact that she is inconveniencing people by pulling them away from their work and their families. But what my dear, sweet wife will never get is that we are doing this not just for her, but for ourselves. I can think of no better way that I could spend an evening than on the floor by her bed, able to run and get the nurse so that she doesn’t have to wait if she needs something. The few people who have stayed with her through the night will never forget the experience, long after specific memories of grand hotel vacations have faded.

One friend — who has six kids at home — remarked that it was actually the best sleep she has had in years. When asked to do a shift, another friend said “anytime of the day or night for as long as you need.” We actually have no problem finding volunteers, there is a waiting list to stay with her that is longer than one to get reservations at a fancy restaurant.

The surgeon is pleased with the way her recovery is going, and now we must wait for more tests to determine the next step. Please don’t ask, I will let you know when I have information I wish to share.

A final word to all my running family who are preparing to run the Tiveria Marathon this week.

Enjoy every second, every step. It may seem hard to enjoy what becomes a painful ordeal at one point, but think how great it really is to have a body that can travel so far, so fast.

Stella and I did about 200 meters at a 15 minutes/kilometer pace yesterday. And that was as rewarding as any long runs I have done.

A few people have weighed in this season on why they run. Let me add one more.

Run to be strong. Run to build yourself up physically and mentally.

I believe that being a runner has helped me greatly as I try and navigate this very difficult time in my life.

I hope that the hardest thing you ever have to do is run a marathon. But if life throws you a somewhat harder challenge, you can use the same skills you develop in running to get to the finish line. If you can mentally get yourself through a 42 kilometer race, you can get yourself through almost anything.

Good luck. Stella and I will be thinking of you.

Another beautiful portrait

I may have made a mistake.

In my euphoria over the news that Stella could have the operation, I made the assumption that the hard part was over, that cancer had been defeated and now we could just celebrate the victory.

But real miracles take a bit longer than a Hollywood version. The Doctor assured me that reaching this stage was indeed amazing, but it was not by any means a guarantee. So perhaps I put on my party hat a little early.

On the other hand, the weeks before the operation were incredibly special as we celebrated every day with family, friends, and great food. O.K., the battle will go on.

Just after I sent yesterday’s post about how amazing Stella was doing, we had a setback. I won’t go into details but it was a very difficult afternoon. Then, a few hours later things got better.

I am sure that it was the extra tefillah that people said after my Facebook Post.

The big bucket of morphine didn’t hurt either.

Now let’s have some fun.

We need the smiles as much as the medicine.

——-

The night before the operation, I suggested we watch a television show on the laptop that someone had lent us. Stella agreed, and we settled down to watch and try and keep our minds off the surgery.

It was night and we were in the hospital room with two other patients and their families. There is not much privacy in Israeli hospitals, but we thought the volume was low enough that we wouldn’t disturb anyone.

Suddenly, the main character in the TV show gets bitten by a dog in a very sensitive place. He screams “The dog just bit my f—ing p—s!” Stella was mortified, and we both tried to shut it off as quickly as possible. But it was dark and we couldn’t quickly find the right button.  We realized that everyone else in the room had stopped talking. We started pushing every button on the laptop like crazy to stop everyone from hearing more about the dog and the man’s body part.

——

The day after surgery, Stella was all juiced up on very heavy pain killers. I pulled a chair next to her bed and leaned in and told her how much I loved her. I explained how we would get through this together and that I would be right beside her. I told her how many people were davening for her and how wonderful it will be when she can come home. She turned to me, opened her mouth, and finally spoke. She said:

“Your breath really stinks.”

Then she closed her eyes and went back to sleep.

——

Once another patient scolded me for using the “patients” bathroom and suggested that I use the public facilities. Since Sha’ri Zedek deals with lots of people speaking lots of languages, easily understood symbols are frequently used. I found both the mens room and the womens room. But I have no idea what goes on in the room behind the door on the right.

Anyone care to guess?

—–

Yesterday, the pain was really bad at one point, and I ran to get the nurse. My Hebrew is not great to begin with, and sleep deprivation and worry did not help. I made the simple mistake of confusing the word for pain “Ko-Ev” with anger “Ko-Es.” Here is the translated conversation I had with the nurse.

Me: Excuse me, my wife has lots of anger

Nurse: Why?

Me: Because. Please give her something for the anger

Nurse: I can’t give her anything. Why should she be angry?

Me (voice rising): She HAS LOTS OF ANGER. GIVE HER SOMETHING RIGHT NOW.

Nurse (voice rising to match mine): TELL HER NOT TO BE ANGRY. WE ARE DOING EVERYTHING…..” (then a bunch of stuff that I couldn’t understand.)

ME: THE DOCTOR TOLD US THAT SHE NEEDS SOMETHING FOR THE ANGER EVERY FEW HOURS. SHE NEEDS IT NOW!!!

Nurse: (Turning away) I cannot help you.

Suddenly I realized I may have made a mistake.

Me (lowering my voice): Wait a sec, do you speak English?

Nurse: A little

Me: Does “Ko-Es” mean pain?

Nurse: No.

Me: Oops. Sorry.

Me (very low voice): Can you please give her something for the pain?

Nurse: Of course!

——

Hopefully I made you smile at something above.

As long as we can find the humor in life, we are o.k.

Yarden Frankl, Sha’ari Zedek Hospital, Jerusalem

I felt completely helpless and so I tried a few times to find some optimistic things to tell you, her Army, and I just couldn’t. I fell asleep with my laptop open on my pillow filled with sad words.

BUT — around 4:00 AM I woke up and checked my e-mail and saw a message from a friend who had spent the night with Stella at the hospital. And that message instantly lifted my mood. I want to share a portion with you:

My hours with Stella today were better than I expected.  She seemed to improve over the course or the evening, sat in the chair twice for about 20 minutes each time, used her spirometer fairly regularly and was happy to receive frequent leg and foot massages. We had numerous short, verbal exchanges and she smiled quite a number of times.

She was in and out of the bed for prolonged periods of time and with little help, shifting positions, and trying to sleep- all with no extra pain coverage. She told me a few times that she’s not in that much discomfort, and while yes, she is still getting a baseline drip and has the epidural, I firmly believe she is being STOIC STELLA. Just the NG tube alone is pretty horrible and did not hear her utter one word of complaint the entire time I was there. Hmph.

As expected, Stella is very determined to get through this and is taking like a warrior. I think Stella will be feeling much better once the tubes start coming out and her body starts to recover from the shock of surgery.

I am back with her this morning and the change since yesterday is dramatic. She has her “game face” on and fully accepts that she has to do some things that are not so comfortable to get better. We just took a walk in the hallway together, with the nurses all giving us big smiles as we walked by. If we could bottle her determination, we could all be Olympic Champions.

Her foot is smiling

She is not yet up to e-mailing, but after this post I am going to read her some of the e-mails and Facebook Posts, so don’t hesitate to write. She is also not up to visitors. Sorry but she would rather see you all when she can have normal conversations and not have tubes sticking out of her. She did not want me to take a regular picture so you will have to make do with the stunning portrait on the right until she feels more herself.

Chesed Meals

Now, I want to explain something that is very important to me.

As many of you are aware, I have decided not to request Chesed meals from the Yishuv at this time. This is not, G-d forbid, that I don’t appreciate everyone’s strong desire to help us. Knowing that so many people care and want to help has played a major role in getting us this far. So don’t think that we take for granted all the offers.

BUT — I do not want my children to think of themselves as helpless victims. I want them all to know that they have the ability to step up and help the family. My kids can make a pot of pasta as well as anyone. But doing so is very empowering. I would rather eat something that one of my kids made for me that may be a tad overcooked or bland than the best gourmet meals on the planet. Sure, we do have days when we can’t manage it. But isn’t that what pizza and burgers are for?

I do not want to dismiss all of your offers out of hand because there IS something you can do to help (and it may even include chesed meals.)

I need to embarrass our closest friends to tell you this, but I see no other way to go about it.  So here goes.

Stella and I have known Josh and Romi Sussman for years. We lived across the street from each other in Potomac, have had similar spiritual journeys, raised kids together, and talked about, planned, and eventualy made Aliya to the same place. We have spent countless Shabbat meals together, just joking around.

But while friendships during good times are fun, it’s during not so good times when you really need them.

From the day that Stella first went to the emergency room, they have been supporting our every need. They have sat with us in the Doctor’s office when we were told that Stella had almost no chance, and they were there when we were told that she did indeed have a chance. I encourage you to read Romi’s account of those days.

Why am I telling you this? Because unlike us, the Sussmans do have little kids at home, lots of them (dozens I think.)  They work, take care of their kids, and have somehow found a way to be here for us physically, emotionally and any other sort of way you can think of.

So if I do have a request for you it is this. If they need it, help the Sussmans out. They may need someone to pick a kid up or watch kids at night. They may come back from shlepping me around exhausted and emotionally drained and don’t want to cook. Instead of filling our freezer with meals that we may never get around to eating, call them and ask if you can make them a meal.

I know it may feel better to cook a meal for a family going  through a crisis, but we need the Sussmans to be taken care of so that they can take care of us. (Just make sure to e-mail them so that their actual needs can be met.) Stella and I would feel especially grateful if you did so.

As always, thank you for your time, your prayers, and your love.

Since everyone is asking, let me just conclude by telling you that the surgery was the most “radical” option. They removed Stella’s stomach, spleen, gall bladder, and a bunch of other stuff. They also took out a few pints of melted Ben and Jerry’s ice cream.

Yarden Frankl, Sha’ari Zedek, Jerusalem

Around 2:00 AM, I considered getting up and writing a post. But I didn’t want to disturb Stella (not that she really needs sleep now!) Also, I was not sure exactly what I would write. So I just watched the e-mails and comments come in over my iPhone. And that’s when I realized what I wanted to write.

It both amazes me and doesn’t surprise me how many people from all around the world and from all stages of Stella’s life are writing in. It amazes me because there is literally an Army of people who are as nervous about this surgery as I am. Stella was trying to write everyone back but every time she send one e-mail, a few more come in. We have people from Syracuse, from Colgate, Maryland, and all over. People are going to holy places to pray for Stella and constantly reminding me that they want to help and I should just say the word if we need anything.

I thought maybe I would send an e-mail out saying “Stella needs chicken soup, can anyone help?” just to see if we could get in the Guinness World Record Book for largest broth-based swimming pool.

But then at the same time that I am amazed, I am not really all that surprised. And neither are you.

Stella is exceptional and has touched many, many lives.

Love and concern for Stella has motivated so many people to do so many good things. But most important, I hope that anyone who has been following the situation will do one small (actually huge) thing, every single day.

Value your time and those you love. Look your spouse in the eyes every day and tell them how much they mean to you.

The sun rises every day, and all of us assume that tomorrow’s sunrise will be similar to today’s. We fool ourselves by thinking that we have unlimited sunrises and we can always have those important conversations tomorrow, or next week, or next year. But let’s all decide not to be stupid. We can find meaning and fulfillment every second if we just look.

O.K.,sorry to get so heavy on all of you.

It’s almost time. There are a number of stages of the operation and to proceed, each stage has to be successful.  So ironically, the longer the surgery – the better. I will try and keep you updated. I have unlimited internet and coffee and that can be a dangerous combination.

I know that many of you would like to visit Stella, but let’s hold off for awhile. E-mail or call me and I will let you know. I am going to assume that Stella will not be up for visits until the end of the week. If you really have the need to visit someone, pop by my house and see my father. Ask him about his days in the Navy or something. He would love to meet you.

O.K. — That’s it for now.

I wonder if they got a treadmill somewhere in this place.

Thanks for listening.

LiveStrong,

Yarden

Shaare Zedek Hospital, Jerusalem

One cannot escape the understanding that for some in the room, the medicine will not be able to defeat the disease. That thought alone can make the room feel dark and oppressive. But incredibly, there are also many bright lights that shine in the midst of such darkness. Here are eight of them that I was fortunate enough to see:

Rav Benny. Rav Benny sat next to us during our first chemo session. He was the first to introduce himself and his calm words helped us settle down and get through that first day. Little did I know at the time that he was a well known teacher of Torah whose students numbered a few of our neighbors and friends here in Neve Daniel. Yet his warm smile to a husband who was going crazy with worry for his wife will never be forgotten, and I am sure capped a lifetime of kindness. We were saddened to hear when he passed away.

The Chesed Ladies. Every chemo session we knew that at some point they would roll in with their cart filled with goodies. They would insist that everyone — even those accompanying the patients — take something from their cart. But it wasn’t the cakes and cookies on the cart that everyone looked forward to. It was the huge smiles and cheerful way they spoke to each and every person in the chemo ward. Every person is treated as an honored guest, not a patient sufferring from a terrifying disease. How they manage to sweep into the chemo room day after day to spread their cheer and warmth is something I will never know. But it is true chesed (kindness.)

The little boy in the hall. One day I stepped out of the chemo room to see a little boy about the same age as my youngest. He was seated on a bench in the hall playing a car racing game on an iPad. I found out later that his father had cancer. He desperately wanted to be there and not be there at the same time. I knew exactly how he felt. It’s tough enough to be an adult when someone you love has cancer. How much tougher for this brave little boy. I sat down next to him and whipped out my iPad. He showed me how to download the game and we just sat and raced cars, never saying a word about cancer.

The woman who was finishing a large  number of chemo cycles and moving on to surgery and then radiation treatment. The chemo made her so sick she had to lay down in a bed in the next room. Her family came and surrounded her bed and softly serenaded her with sweet songs to get her through the chemo session. I have never been so moved by simple tunes. You could feel the love coming from that group.

The elderly lady  in the corner. She needed chemo every week with no end point. She admitted she was ready to give up, but her family begged her to keep going. For the sake of her children and grandchildren she decided to accept the endless suffering of constant chemo. It is so important for cancer patients to know how important they are to others.

Two  friends. Stella has been on an extremely aggressive chemo regime. That’s why when all the other patients went home, she would still be hooked up to the IV. The last hour of any chemo session was hell. Stella did not want anyone to see her when she felt that sick. Anyone except these two friends. We would sit on either side while Stella sat with eyes closed and jaw set. We would look at her and then up at the chemo bag and then back to her face, praying that the chemo would drip a little faster so we could get her home and into bed. By the end, I would go get the car while one of them would practically carry Stella out. It’s not easy seeing someone you love suffering, but that’s why all of us really need our friends.

Stella. Of course the eighth light is Stella herself. At different times throughout our ordeal, I have gotten drunk, punched walls, broke down in tears, and raised my arms to the sky screaming “WHY???” at the top of my lungs.  Not Stella. She calmly accepted the situation and kept telling me that she was going to get through it. At times, I even got frustrated because she didn’t seem to listen to the Doctor’s horrible prognosis.

Once I suggested that we fly to Switzerland to look at mountains. Or go anywhere in the world to do whatever she wanted. But she rolled her eyeballs and told me we would travel one day when she was all better. “Hey, hey, it’s not so bad,” has always been her line when things aren’t so good, and even cancer has not altered her tune.

I don’t know how I could have dealt with the situation if our roles were reversed. But Stella is the bravest, strongest, most spiritual person I know and every day she has the light of a full menorah burning inside her.

Chanuka Sameach — Happy Chanuka.

-Yarden

Now let me explain something. Israel has a national health insurance system that is good. It’s not perfect ( and I don’t believe a national health insurance system CAN be perfect,) but I believe it is very, very good. It has paid for truckloads of drugs for us, scans, and examinations up the wazoo (but not of the wazoo because the cancer thankfully never spread there.) And even the surgery would have been paid for if we would be o.k. with a resident doing the operation (under supervision.)

That’s the catch. I am sure the surgical residents are very good. But with my wife’s life literally in someone’s hands, I don’t want “very good.” I want “the best.” After all, I’m the type of guy who is picky over what mechanic I let touch my bike. Shouldn’t I be at least as selective on who is going to be working on my wife?

I think so.

And the Israeli system has enough flexibility that you can choose to have a specific surgeon. But there’s a slight problem. You have to pay the difference between how much the Kupa (the health insurance) will pay and the rate that the particular surgeon charges. Which in the case of a major overhaul such as we are facing, can be pricey.

Again, I don’t think this is unfair. A top notch surgeon has spent years perfecting his work and should be compensated based on his level of skill. It is my understanding that Doctors in Israel are very lowly paid relative to the rest of the world (or even the cost of their education.) In any other field, the most highly skilled can earn more. Why not medicine?

The problem is that the above means that sometimes receiving  the highest quality medical care is difficult because of the expense. It’s just a fact, and I don’t really have a global solution. But I know how I feel.

My belief is that in such a situation as we are facing, you do whatever you need to do (legally) to get the best available care.

Our surgeon is known in Israel as the guy with the “Golden Hands.” Yeah, that’s the guy I want. Not the guy with “eight and a half fingers.”

And so I was quite happy to write that check out today and then run over to the office that manages the money we raised from the bike ride so I could get reimbursed before my check bounced from Gush Etzion to Australia. It made me feel really good because now I know that my ride was not just symbolic.

And for all of you who contributed, thank you again.

But as good as I feel about raising money for Stella’s care from the ride, I feel even better that we have used only part of the money. It is our hope that we will be able to move on, and the remainder of the funds will be used by other families in similar situations. Cancer is terrifying enough. No one needs to combine it with financial insecurity.

So we are on track for January 1 and trying to “live it up” gastronomically these next two weeks. And as much as are enjoying spending time with great food these days, we are enjoying even more spending time with great friends. Drop by for a doughnut sometime.

Nes Gadol Yiyeh Po –A Great Miracle Will Happen Here

Chanukah Sameach — Happy Hanukah.

On the other hand, if the cancer is determined to be inoperable, the cancer will spread throughout your system, even with aggressive chemotherapy. That is why gastric cancer is the second most lethal cancer in the world.

As far as I can tell, you have to fit into one of two categories to be eligible for this operation:

Either the cancer has to be caught relatively early, in Stage 1 or Stage 2. This is somewhat rare because the disease does not usually present symptoms until it has progressed.

Or you can be Stella.

Now fortunately, while Stella was not in the first category, she is definitely in the second. So we are very much looking forward to the January first operation.

Well not exactly.

Yes, we know that this operation  is a blessing from above and will save Stella’s life. And that really is all that counts.

On the other hand, having a stomach removed is a little bit more complicated than my frequent, spontaneous toenail-ectomies during running season. Yes, you can live without a stomach. It is not so important.

A brain — that’s very important. A heart — critical. But the stomach? The stomach is a like a holding area that allows us to eat huge quantities of food and then spend the rest of the day engaged in non-eating activities while the food is allowed to slowly digest.

So people without stomachs can still eat. They just have to do so in small quantities throughout the day.

Not fun but not too bad when compared with the other possibilities for people with stomach cancer.

Well it sounded like "periwinkle"

And it’s not just the stomach. The surgeon ran through all the stuff he will take out. I think he said ‘stomach, lymph nodes, spleen, derailleur, and her periwinkle.” Of course I may have misheard since after I heard that the operation would be possible, I was just too giddy to pay attention to all those medical terms.

For a few weeks after the operation, Stella will be on an all-liquid diet.

My son Max shaved his head in solidarity when Stella lost her hair. I wonder if he will be hitting the chicken broth in January.

But for right now, we are actively engaged in trying to eat anything yummy around. That means heaps of Ben and Jerry’s ice cream, Sufganiot (Israeli Chanukah doughnuts), cheesecake, schwarma, and steak, etc. (No, not at the same time.) That means going out to restaurants with friends and giving the old stomach one last chance to do its work.

"Pre-Op Diet"

Of course Stella does not have to worry about gaining weight since she is sure to drop quite a few pounds in the next few months. For myself though, I either have to leave my dear wife to struggle through all the ice cream and cheesecake on her own, or just exercise a little more. Since I have been with Stella every step of the way, I cannot abandon her now as she embarks on her grand eating tour. I figure each pint of B & J is about another hour of running. Not a problem.

Sure there is more preparation for the surgery than eating like a horse. We have had X-rays, and heart scans, and blood tests. Next week we go for a “pre-op” that I hope will not be led by young people who are “pre-med.”

And finally, in the grand count down we will light our Hanakiot (menorahs), look at the flames, and understand completely that miracles are not just Bible stories of days long ago. They can happen every day, and just as I once wrote that lives can be shattered in a single moment, they can also be put back together again just as fast.

See you at the makolet, sushi bar, Gavna, etc

Gotta run. It’s milkshake time.

Yarden Frankl, Neve Daniel

I started Crossing the Yarden long before cancer, and I intend to write it long after Stella has a complete recovery. So not every post will be about the Matsav. Of course, if you are wondering, Stella had a bit of a rough week from chemo but is now doing fine as we anticipate surgery on January 1.

Now then……

It had all the trappings of a classic cycling competition. Alberto Contador is the three time winner of the Tour de France, two time winner of the Tour of Italy (Giro), and one time winner of the Tour of Spain. I am the winner of a spring training race in Prospect Park, circa 1984 and five time participant in the Alyn Charity Ride (not a race — or so they have to tell me every year.) I am sure that Alberto has been nervously anticipating racing against me ever since Lance Armstrong retired.

Let me just say, I am a Chassid of Lance Armstrong and am in no way a fan of Alberto, who has dissed my hero on several occasions. But I will admit that Alberto is most likely the best cyclist in the world right now, and one of the best ever. I am extremely proud that he came to Israel with his whole team. Sure, Robert Kraft comes here a lot, but has he ever brought the entire New England Patriots team for a solid ten days of training? Nu?

Alberto rides for the Saxo Bank team, one of the top professional teams in the world. I am not exactly sure how it happened, but Saxo Bank decided to have their first training camp of the season here in Israel. While the other top teams are holding their camps in warm exotic places, Saxo Bank came to Israel and even spent time performing charity work.

When there are those in the world who shun Israel and refuse to travel here, Saxo Bank not only came but held a race through the Old City. Big props to the whole team. I am so impressed with them, that it will be very difficult for me to root against them in this year’s Tour (of course I must, because that’s what sports fans do. But still…..)

Last week I got an e-mail from Alyn saying they are looking for a group of riders to accompany Alberto, Mayor Nir Barkat, and the rest of the Saxo Bank team on a ride through the Old City Tuesday evening. As a cyclist, this was just too huge an opportunity to pass up. I figured I would ride alongside Alberto for a little while, tell him about riding in Israel, then let him eat my dust while staring at the back of my Livestrong helmet.

I drove to Talpiot, parked the car, and rode to the Jaffa Gate. My first sense that I had somehow missed something in the translation was when I saw the massive crowds behind police barricades leading up to the Old City. Then above the Jaffa Gate was a huge sign that said “Start of Bike Race.’ Hmm……

Then just inside, I saw a bunch of real serious looking dudes pinning numbers on and getting suited up. I recognized a few including Doron Amitz, former Israeli National Champion who is nice enough to swing by the Gush Etzion bike championship every year and show us the back of his head.

Now, wait a second. The e-mail said “ride,” right? Did I miss the word “race?” Or “race against some of the best cyclists in the world?” The e-mail (after going through Google Translate) read:

Next Tuesday, December 6, group participation event will take place Saxo Bank-SunGard her rider rider Alberto Contador leads Tour de Parnes in recent years. The event will take place in the plaza of Jaffa Gate at 16:30 and will include riding with Jerusalem Mayor Nir Barkat and Alberto Contador. In coordination with the municipality we can put together a group of 20 riders stuck to his head …

Not sure about the “stuck to his head” part, but didn’t see the word “race” anywhere either.

Then I noticed a large group of not-as-serious looking dudes off to the side, some wearing Alyn shirts. Ah-ha, better get over there.

I soon learned that there would be a ceremonial “ride” and then the “race” open to Saxo Bank and the best riders in Israel. That was fine, except I realized that by the size of the crowd, there was no way I would be able to get near Alberto. Of course, I don’t give up so easy.

I followed the press to a nearby area where a table had been set up for a press conference. That’s when I noticed a tent with portable heaters to keep the Saxo Bank riders warm before the race. And then, Alberto Contador himself walks by with a crush or journalists around him. He ducks into the tent to get away, and that’s when I made my move.

Realizing he was probably getting tired from answering all the questions from the journalists (“Why are you here in Israel?” “Do you like our country? “Did you try the steak?”), I came up on the inside, around to his right. I waited to find an opening when I had a clear path, and then I came up beside him and grabbed him with my left arm (in a friendly way, of course) while my right held the trusted iPhone.

“Hey Alberto!” I yelled and snapped the shot. With a fluid motion, I tucked the camera into my jersey and never looked back until I had put a good fifty meters on him.

Relishing my triumphant move, I went to find my bike, while he kept trying to break away from the journalistic peleton. I don’t know about official times, but I made it through the press conference much faster.

I got on the bike with a few hundred other folks who had NOT gotten a picture with El Pistelero (Alberto’s nickname.) Now I realized that while I was making my moves at the front of the peleton, everyone else had staked out a position waiting for the ride to start. By the time I got my bike to the start line, I was way at the back. (Alberto and the Saxo Bank riders were escorted to the front… because I guess they needed a bit of a head start.)

Then we were off. Riding a bike as fast as you can with a few hundred people through the winding, cobbled streets of the Old City is actually fairly dangerous. The only thing that makes it even less safe is some idiot trying to pass everyone. But hey, it’s what I do.

When we finished a lap and climbed back to the Jaffa Gate, I finally caught up to the Saxo Bank squad. But then…they shut down the course and requested that all of us who were not officially in the race, get out of the way so that the real race could start. The bottom line is that I tied with all of Saxo Bank in the only race we have ridden together. Not too shabby.

As far as the other race, you can read the details here.

Seriously, as an Israeli cyclist, it was amazing to be part of this event. And even more amazing to hear what one of the best riders in the world has to say about Israel:

“I’m extremely happy to be here in the first place. This first week of my stay here, I’ve experienced nothing but great support in a fascinating country. Both in Akko when we were doing the cycling school project and here in Jerusalem, people have been very supportive of us. It makes me proud being the first ever to win a criterium here in Jerusalem.”

All right. Alberto you got me. I have a new respect for you.

I guess I will have to root for you in the Tour de France this year….

…..To come in third….

Just can’t help myself.

Max and Stella. There is no off-season.

I have run five full marathons. Despite the fact that each one is unique and stands apart in my memory, during all of them I got to experience what I call the “Kilometer #38″ syndrome.

After running 38 kilometers, you do not feel at your best. No matter who you are or what pace you have been running, I don’t think anyone is really comfortable at kilometer 38. Your legs and lungs burn, your feet kill, and everything else feels like it’s about to just fall of your body like the muffler on an old VW Bug.

Mentally, it’s also tough. If you have never run a marathon, you might assume that everyone is happy at kilometer 38, since you only have four more to go. You have finished ninety percent of the race. The rest should be a piece of cake, right?

Wrong. At least for me, those last four kilometers feel like another forty. And knowing that the pain will continue — and in fact get worse — can be pretty darn demoralizing. Last January in Tiveria, I had run the race of my life, but at kilometer 38 I was about to admit defeat. I felt I could just not face those last four kilometers. If it were not my friend Chaim running next to me, I might have stopped right there.

Despite all the fantastic news — and we are so aware of what a miracle we are seeing unfold — Stella is right now at kilometer 38. She is battling through another round of chemo that is really knocking her around. After the chemo, we have lots of tests to get ready for the surgery, then the surgery itself will be on January 1.

Yes, all of us who love Stella are dancing and singing with joy that she CAN have the surgery. But we are not the ones who have to HAVE the surgery. Already feeling low from the chemo, Stella is not looking forward to this very involved operation and the recuperation period after it. She mentioned to the surgeon how she was a “bit nervous” about the operation, perhaps looking for some comforting words or reassurance. Maybe he would tell her that this procedure was nothing to worry about, that it would be a piece of cake.

He just looked at her and said “Do you want to live?”

Well, it IS an answer.

While the rest of us are like spectators, cheering her on for reaching kilometer 38 in great form, none of us can really feel what she is going through right now. Chemo sucks. And it doesn’t really matter if it’s number one or number six. It just sucks.

It’s interesting. Time used to be the enemy. I wanted to slow time down or even stop it, so we could value every moment that we had. Now, I want time to speed up. I want her to leave chemo behind and quickly get through the operation. Now that I know a complete recovery is a definite possibility, I want us to get there right away.

But no matter how much you want to cross the finish line a few seconds after passing kilometer 38, it just doesn’t work that way. You have no choice but to somehow find some more strength and gut through the end of the race.

When Lance Armstrong said “Pain is temporary, quitting lasts forever,” he was referring to both the pain of racing a bike through the Alps and dealing with grueling chemo sessions. And he’s right. I do know that no matter how bad I have felt the five times I have hit kilometer 38, they were followed by five wonderful moments of crossing the finish line with my arms held high.

And so Stella and I both know that one day we will dance and sing together and this whole chapter in our lives will be over. But right now, we have no choice but to deal with the pain and keep moving forward.

The Surgery is scheduled for January 1. What a way to start 2012.

We were told that Stella had stomach cancer that had progressed too far to be operable. The cancer had spread outside her stomach and could not be cured.

We were told that Stella needed immediate chemotherpy. The chemo would make her terribly sick, and the best we could hope for was that it could slow the spread of the disease.

We have lived with an impending nightmare since that moment.

We just came back from a meeting at the hospital.

In the next few weeks, Stella will have an operation.

If successful, she will be cured.

She will be cured.

She will be cured.

(Breathe)

I know and want everyone to understand, that it is major surgery and that there are a lot of risks. First will have to do an exploratory examination. They may find problems not revealed by the latest scans and have to stop.

But they may not. If everything looks good, they will continue the operation.

And then….

She will be cured.

She will be cured.

She will be cured.

(breathe)

What happened in the last five months to reverse the diagnosis?

I think the answer is pretty clear.

If you are reading this, I think you must be one of the thousands of people around the world who have been praying for Tzuriya Kochevet Bat Sarah.

Or maybe you are one of the people who sponsored my bike ride and gave to charity in Stella’s name.

Or maybe you are one of the kind souls who have kept our spirits up with e-mails, comments, visits, and chicken soup.

Whatever you have done, you have helped save Stella’s life.

Thank you.

Now I know we are not quite ready to put on the party hats because it is still too early to do that. There is still more chemo and an operation and a hospital stay and a recovery. We should not get ahead of ourselves because the coast is not clear.

But you know what?

Hell, I’m putting on my party hat now.

And if you think I talk loudly, my heart is screaming out loud right now.

And most importantly.

Thank You G-d.

-Yarden Frankl, Neve Daniel

12 hours.

Over 90,000 shekels raised.

Over 1,000 people following on the blog, Facebook, and Twitter.

Countless spirits raised.

What an awesome night.

I want to say at the outset that it is very difficult to put into words what the “Longing for the Dawn” ride has meant for me and Stella. Throughout the night, we could feel the love and support from literally around the world. For the first time in many months, both of us were focused on something wild and crazy and helpful and positive. It may have been a “one man bike-a-thon,” but really, I was never alone on the ride. Even at 3:30 in the morning, as I rode along a deserted Route #60, I felt a crowd of people were along with me, making every turn of the pedals easier and easier.

So now, here’s the story as best as I can remember:

I was actually pretty pumped for the ride. I decided to wear the jersey from the bike racing team I was a member of a few decades ago, the Sleepy Hollow Bike Club. As a teenager, I was on a competitive team and spent many hours before and after school off on a bicycle somewhere. Maybe I could fool my body into believing I was almost thirty years younger. I added a reflective vest and had mounted a variety of lights to my helmet. I was less concerned with being able to see the road (since there are plenty of streetlights and a full moon) than I was drivers being able to see me. So I tried to glow.

I stocked the car with energy drink, spare clothing, bike tires and tools, a spare bike, and all the electronics (and snacks) that Josh and Avi would need as they followed me around all night. (They were wondering if they would have as much luck getting people to pledge for every kilometer they drove or snack they ate.)

I sent Josh all the info to log in to Facebook as me so he could keep people updated during the ride. Josh and I had a last minute discussion about the plan for the ride and it was time to go out for the start. I pedaled out of my house and over to join my family in the center of Neve Daniel.

This was my first surprise. A huge crowd of Neve Daniel friends greeted me, many wearing specially made T-shirts for the ride. Dozens of kids, all mounted on bikes were raring to go. The Rabbi of Neve Daniel gave a short inspirational talk. Then I tried to say a few words.

Usually that’s not a problem for me. But seeing how many people had come out choked me up and I decided to let my riding do the talking. I took off with all the kids in tow on a ceremonial lap around Neve Daniel. And then, it was time to get to work.

The first two hours, I rode my mountain bike around the Yishuv. I did this mainly so that there would be less traffic by the time I hit Route #60, the main highway through Gush Etzion. Riding around a small Yishuv can get boring quickly, but not on my ride. It seemed that on every corner there were groups of people cheering me on, some ringing cow bells (a European custom at bike races.) In areas where there were no people, purple balloons — hundreds of them — lined the route. The Rav had said I should see the balloons and know that I was not alone. It worked.

At 8:15, I switched to a road bike (graciously lent by Chaim at the Al Derech Burma bike shop) and set off on the second leg, a four hour journey of about 90 kilometers through Gush Etzion. I rode circuits between Efrat, Allon Shevut, Rosh Tzurim, the Gush Moetza, and the entrance to Kfar Etzion. I had Josh and Avi following in the car keeping everyone up to date using a variety of computers, iPads, cameras, and phones. I would look over at the car every now and then and see an interesting blue glow coming from inside.

I had gone over my “fueling” strategy with the experts at Hammer Nutrition, and I took their advice to avoid any solid food and just drink one bottle of a special energy drink every hour, plus a few gels and electrolyte pills. Josh and Avi made sure I was drinking the bottles down and were quick to mix up new ones and hand them off when needed. I had also stocked the car with spare clothing, but found that I only had to change a shirt once and switch to a warmer cap and gloves. Although it was a bit chilly, I did find that riding kept me warm enough to go without a jacket.

Near midnight, just as the Gush loops were getting a bit monotonous (each one was 15km,) my friend Dave Bender e-mailed in that he would be joining me for a little bit on the road. It was a pleasure to ride with him (after talking about riding together so many times.) After Dave left, I was delighted to join up with four more friends from the Bet Shemesh Running Club for the third segment, the ride to Jerusalem.

I always knew that the real fun would start after midnight, and I was right. I was absolutely shocked and amazed when a bunch of friends from Neve Daniel came out to the road to cheer us on at about 12:30. Probably as shocked and amazed as the soldiers at the check point that separates the Gush from Jerusalem.

Riding to the Kotel (Western Wall) in Jerusalem’s Old City was fantastic. Despite my best arguing, they would not let me ride the bike into the Kotel plaza, so for the first time of the evening, I got off the bike and — with Josh’s encouragement — walked over to the Kotel. Right inside the entrance to the plaza, I got another surprise.Guys from the Orita Yeshiva ran over and sang me in to the Kotel. We got a lot of strange looks. After all it’s rare to see a group of Yehsiva bochurs dancing to the Kotel with a spandex clad bike rider replete with flashing lights and reflectors.

Back on the bikes, it was time to move on. Mike and I did a detour to add some kilometers by heading off to the Tayelet and then to the checkpoint by Kever Rachel before catching the other guys on Route #60 headed back to the Gush. Riding bikes on a major highway that was devoid of traffic was fun. For those of you who didn’t know, Gush Etzion is in what some would call the “West Bank,” and this road has certainly seen its share of terror and tragedy. But at that moment, it was a road of life.

It was right around 3:15 AM then I started getting worried. Although I was not yet getting tired, I still had three hours to go and thought I would be alone. It was starting to get really cold. I had kind of gotten used to riding with the Bet Shemesh crew and was not looking forward to riding alone again.

But then I got a nice surprise. Mike decided to stay and ride with me until I returned to Neve Daniel, where other riders had agreed to meet me around 4:30. So to log some more kilometers we did a few more laps through the chilly air between Efrat and Rosh Tzurim.

At four thirty in the morning, we headed back to Neve Daniel. For those who have never visited, Neve Daniel is one of the highest points in all of Israel. That makes for spectacular views and really hard bike rides, especially after you have already been riding for ten hours. But, with really no acceptable choice (I was not going to get in the car for a ride up, that just wouldn’t be right,) we just got out of our saddles and hammered our weary legs up that hill.

Near the top, I was greeted by a most wonderful sight, the most beautiful of the evening. Stella (and Bailey, my dog) were waiting for me. Even though there were still two hours left, how wonderful it was to pull over and get hug from my wife. It may still have been pitch black, but Stella’s smile is dazzling and she can light up the night and even make a frozen biker feel warm again.

As time went by, I was joined by more and more friends. Some were on bikes, and others were waving pom poms and cheering. At this point, having gone over the 200km mark, we were riding slowly and just fooling around on our bikes. But as a crowd grew, I realized that I didn’t want to finish the ride that way. So, I started doing laps and ramping up the pace again. At this point, it was sheer adrenaline .

More and more people showed up as the clock counted down to the twelve hour mark. In all honesty, although I was pretty tired, part of me didn’t want this magical night to end (not that part that had been sitting on a bicycle seat for 12 hours however.)

When was the last time that me and Stella and all our friends smiled like that? When was the last time that we felt really, really good about ourselves? When was the last time that we felt so optimistic about the future? Certainly not for the last four months.

Since Stella’s diagnosis, we have been dealing with the ugly word “incurable.” But we cannot accept anymore when someone tells us that something is not possible. With faith, and perseverance, love, and G-d’s will, anything is possible. So many people giving to charity in Stella’s merit has to have an impact.

We have already seen with our own eyes a scan result that was not supposed to happen. Stella is actually feeling much better and I have no doubt at all that all that the tremendous embrace of love we have felt is the reason. While the ride did not change at all how people have felt about my amazing wife, it did let people participate in a very meaningful way.

So now with our feet on the ground again, we are ready to resume the battle against cancer.

A friend brought over a plate of fruit after the ride. She said we should eat the fruit but keep the plate to use at our Seuda Hodea (a celebratory meal of thanks) when Stella is cured. We like that — and by the way, when that happens you are all invited.

I could not thank everyone who helped out so much individually, but know that we cherish every donation, every balloon that was tied up, every cheer, Facebook post, e-mail, and blog comment. But that being said, let me give an extra special “Yasher Koach” to a few who made this literally the ride of our lives.

Chaim Wizman, Yosef Sonneblick, Reuven Yagel, and Mike Ben Ari who rode to Jerusalem with me (Mike actually stayed to ride back to Neve Daniel.) Chaim is the owner of the Al Derech Burma bike shop which lent me the bike for most of the ride. If you need bike stuff, go visit his store.

Marc Gottlieb has been running my Website for years and was up all night “live blogging” the ride. if you need anything web-related, get in touch with him.

Josh Sussman and Avi Levine were in the support car all night long, keeping everyone up to date and making sure I had everything I need. They both work for Nefesh b’ Nefesh, so if you want to move to Israel, give them some business.

And then finally, there is my amazing, amazing wife. Compared to her challenge, my bike ride was nothing at all. She is my inspiration every day and I will do anything I can for her. Together and with all our friends around the world, we are going to fight this cancer with every once of strength we know we have, and a lot more that we don’t even realize we have.

No matter how difficult the future may be, nothing can take away the magic of that night, nothing.

So this is what it means to “Fight Like Hell” (Lance Armstrong Foundation’s words) and “Ride Like the Wind (my addition.)

If you have enough faith, don’t let anyone EVER tell you that something is not possible.

See you on the road.

Yarden Frankl, Neve Daniel

P.S. There are still donations coming in. If you would still like to donate, click to donate online by looking for the button at the bottom of the page or just sending me an e-mail. Those who have made pledges will get an e-mail soon with instructions for donating.

6:05PM – Rav Matanya Ben Shachar, rav of Neve Daniel, spoke briefly to inaugurate the ride. Yarden’s message to Stella was “I’ll let the riding speak for me.” He did one lap, came back to find Stella in the crowd, kissed her, and was off.

6:15PM – Yarden is off and riding.. He’s lapping the main roads in the yishuv with a few dozen kids in tow.

8:27PM - Yarden is leaving Neve Daniel now and heading into the Gush Eztion circuit of Alon Shevut / Rosh Tzurim / Efrat.

9:15PM - Yarden’s making a second lap into Efrat. The follow car (Josh & Avi) were pulled over by the cops for blocking traffic. They had an ishur (permit).

9:59PM - Yarden’s heading out of Alon Shevut, listening to AC/DC.

10:12PM - the follow car cracked open the popcorn.

10:40PM - We reached the 100km mark. Yarden’s changing his shirt and heading back up to Efrat on his fourth circuit in Gush Etzion.

11:00PM - David Bender (http://www.davebrianbender.com/) joined Yarden for the ride. Yarden is riding at a little over 22km/h. He’s wearing a black shirt (and a reflective vest, and has tons of lights on him).

11:16PM Latitude: 31° 39′ 3.58172”, Longitude: 35° 7′ 43.7543”, Speed: 9 m/s, Bearing: 172°, Altitude: 970.4 meters. Also, a course adjustment because Alon Shevut isn’t The City That Never Sleeps… they shut the gate.

11:32PM - Yarden’s finishing up his circuits in Gush Etzion. Stay tuned for a live video update: http://www.ustream.tv/channel/longingforthedawn

12:00AM - Heading into Yerushalayim. Reached the halfway mark for the ride. Stay tuned for a live video update: http://www.ustream.tv/channel/longingforthedawn

12:12AM - Video technical malfunction. Our crack team of experts is on the case… even though it’s past their bedtime.

12:21AM We are meeting up with the bet shemesh crew [Yarden's bike club from Beit Shemesh. Ed.]

12:45AM Midnight Madness!! Crazy awake Neve Daniel friends came out to greet Yarden and his biking crew on the road to Jerusalem. It’s a crystal clear night, cool and dry. Speed: 12 m/s
Bearing: 36°

12:55AM – Heading into the tunnels on 60 on the way to Jerusalem.

1:06AM – Just entered Jerusalem …should be at Kotel in 25 minutes or so.

1:29AM – Latitude: 31° 46′ 26.7244” Longitude: 35° 13′ 59.7021” Speed: 3 m/s Bearing: 70° – In the Old City of Jerusalem.
2:12AM – Latitude: 31° 43′ 50.5409” Longitude: 35° 12′ 19.9625” Speed: 10 m/s Bearing: 199° – heading down Derech Chevron to Kever Rachel.

2:17AM – Heading back to the Gush.

3:10AM – Back in Efrat.