We moved to Israel seven years ago to “live the dream” of a better life for ourselves and our children. And for six years, with fulfilling jobs and a wonderful community, our lives did indeed feel dreamlike.

And then the dream went dark.

It all started when the Doctor said: “It’s definitely cancer.”

My wife Stella was diagnosed with late stage stomach cancer last year. In fifteen months, we have faced chemo, operations, and more unpleasantness than I could ever have imagined. Yet Stella has never stopped smiling.

From her childhood in Ithaca,  New York to our college days at Colgate University to our first real community in Potomac, Maryland to our current home in Neve Daniel, Israel, Stella has touched the lives of thousands of people.

If you look up kindness in the dictionary, you will see Stella’s picture. If you look up modesty, there she is again. And if you look up compassion — once again it’s Stella. Just ask anyone who knows her and they will tell you that she is simply amazing. I basically won the lottery to have such a wife.

And so many of these people are now desperate to try and help Stella as she struggles with what feels like a non-stop fight against a deadly disease. People are demanding to “do something” to try and help. And of all those people, I am at the top of the list of those who just need to do something to try and help her.

Stella doesn’t like making trouble. She doesn’t speak badly of anyone. The only one she has an issue with is the Waze lady. (Sorry but Ms. Waze IS a better navigator.) She is always willing to back off to preserve peace. She offers an amazing smile to everyone she meets.

But that’s not me. Not even close.

I get mad. I get pissed off. Someone zings me, despite the best efforts of my Rav, I want to zing them back. And nothing has pissed me off more than the cancer that is attacking my wife.

So what can I do? If I could cure cancer, I would. But I don’t have enough time to go to medical school and spend decades in a lab trying to create a new drug.

I ride a bike. That’s what I do.

So now, I am going to ride a bike to raise money for Stella’s care and all the other cancer patients at Shaare Zedek. I have picked the most audacious route I can think of so I can hopefully raise the most amount of money to help.

The route is in blue

Around midnight on November 9, I will climb on my bike at Mount Hermon and then ride home. It’s 260KM and goes from the highest point in Israel to the lowest point in the world and then back up to the second highest spot in Israel. If you want to do something to help Stella, please consider clicking on this link to make a donation.

Besides the practical issue that the hospital will have more resources, there is a philosophical idea. In Judaism, it is believed that people giving to charity can reverse a terrible situation. And I’m no expert, but I doubt very much that this concept is unique to Judaism.

Even if everyone just gives a small amount, thousands of people giving in Stella’s name has to count for something, right?

I welcome all donations, no matter the size. Because I know that every single donation, every cent and every shekel, is someone reaching out to help Stella.

And we need all the help we can get right now.

So make a donation and please say a prayer for Stella. Doesn’t matter what language or what faith you are.

I need to move the Earth through prayers and charity from around the world.

I WILL NOT LET CANCER WIN.

And if I can do that, then riding 260 kilometers will be a piece of cake.

Thank you.

Yarden Frankl, Neve Daniel

Starting last night around midnight, a group of us ran from Bet Shemesh to the Kotel, a total of almost 39 kilometers. We got there just as dawn was breaking and were able to daven (pray) as the sun came up.

A night run is a completely different experience than running during the day. Often, with just a flashlight mounted on a band around your head, all you can see is a couple of meters ahead of you. You can be running fine and feeling great.

Then all of a sudden, the trail turns upward, and you may have no idea how long the climb will be. But you keep running. Or you could stumble over a rock that you had not seen, and you use your arms to try and catch your balance so that you don’t end up getting a mouthful of trail.

Since most of you are familiar with my writing, you know what comes next. I try and tell all of you to live and enjoy life like a night run. You never know when all of a sudden, the pleasant run becomes tougher and you’re not sure when the tough part will end. Or something comes up out of nowhere, and you need to find a way to stay upright and continue on.

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NOTE: I wrote this a week ago and did not send because it did not seem right with Israeli Memorial Day/Independence Day. Stella is actually feeling MUCH better now. If you don’t believe me, look at the pic. And BTW — This made sense in my head, but it may not to you. I am in no way saying that running is like chemo.

Now then……

——

I always try and wake up an hour before I have to leave for a race. Sometimes that means waking by 4:00 AM, but I need to do so because I am always nauseous the morning of an event in which I know I will be suffering. It’s weird. It’s like my body is trying to convince my mind that it’s not worth it, to go back to sleep. And it doesn’t matter how many races I’ve done. Always the same. Wake up, feel sick.

Friday was the Uriyah Duathalon, an event combining ten kilometers of trail running with thirty of mountain bike riding. It’s a new event that was launched to coincide with the moshav’s 100th anniversary. We got there early since if at all possible, I try to get to events with plenty of time to spare. Even if that means standing around for a while. It gives you time to see others and have some friendly conversations while waiting to put your body through the wringer.

Stella feels sick the morning of chemo, long before she actually gets the drugs. It is the psychological dimension of what her body is going to go through that makes it rebel. Usually she can fight through it and we try to get to the hospital as early as possible. A number of people do so and despite what all the patients are in store for, people seem quite friendly and relaxed as they sit around waiting for the real day to begin.

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On Sunday, I had a work meeting downtown. After the meeting, I got on the bus to go home. It was hot and a whole crowd of people were pushing to get on, knowing that most would not get a seat.

An older woman avoided the crowd by getting on the bus from the side exit and sitting in a free seat. I happened to be one of the first ones on through the regular entrance. As I was moving back, she handed me her ticket and asked if I would give it to the driver so he would know she had paid.

I took her ticket and tried to make my way back to the driver. This was difficult because people were getting on who were intent on getting a seat. I said “excuse me” in my nicest Hebrew and explained that I needed a second to get up the the driver. But there was one guy who just didn’t care. Rather than letting me through, he pushed me and yelled “move!”

Something in me snapped. I have been walking around with a lot on anger lately. Usually, I can get it out when I run. That’s why some people have said they see me snarling when I go by. But on Sunday I woke up too late for a run.

So without thinking I pushed right back and yelled “F…. You,” right in this guy’s face. He responded by punching me in the chest.

I started losing control and pulled my fist back and for a second wanted nothing more in the world than to beat the crap out of him. In my mind, this guy was Stella’s cancer. I could finally do something to protect her instead of sitting around feeling helpless.

I heard people on the bus start to yell while others jumped out of the way. But mainly I was consumed with rage. I pulled my fist back and was about to throw the first punch I have thrown in a few decades.

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People have asked me about the picture of Stella that I used in the first post and have now put on my homepage. You know the one of her in the baseball cap with a big, glowing smile. It’s my favorite picture of her because it really represents her personality so well.

Here’s the scene. Last year, we had planned a big family vacation with my parents and my brother’s family. We went camping in a few of the national parks in the U.S. One that we visited, Bryce Canyon in Utah, is simply magnificent. If a scene can literally be described as breathtaking, it must be that of the rim of Bryce Canyon.

Now my brother had planned out a whole day of horseback (mules actually) riding. It is the best way to really see everything the Canyon has to offer. For us, living in Israel, an opportunity to go horseback riding in Utah does not come up that often. So we were very excited about the trip.

The only problem is that on the one day (booked months in advance) that we had planned for the trip, we awoke to pouring rain. Most of us started grumbling and decided to just scrap the day. Not Stella. She insisted that “it’s not so bad” (her favorite line no matter what the situation.) So while the rest of us were complaining, there she was smiling as if there were blue skies and warm weather. That’s when I took her picture, standing in the rain telling us all that it was going to be a great day.

And you know what? Shortly after we started, the sun came out and we had an amazing time. And I really think she simply willed the weather to get better just like she is going to will this cancer to go away. She has an inner glow.

And now she has an outer one too!

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