 Parkinson's? Me? No. No, no, no. Just like 20 years ago, when an oncologist used the words breast cancer and you in the same sentence, I couldn't accept it. Not for me. These things happen to other people, not to me. And now I'm hearing the word Parkinson's and you in the same sentence. No, not again. On the other hand, with the right team and the right approach, we beat back that cancer. So maybe, no, not yet. We're not there with Parkinson's. Some cancers can be cured and mine was, but there is no cure for Parkinson's. With this diagnosis, all I could think of was Claudia, a family friend, Valerina, who, as her world slowed and declined after her diagnosis of Parkinson's, eventually folded into a wheelchair. And with that picture in my mind, I went numb. I froze. I couldn't even think. You see, before Parkinson's, I was happy and content. Great marriage, great family and friends. Not too much to worry about in life. And while I truly admired people who could overcome great adversity, I wasn't one of those people I didn't need to be. Life had been good to me. Hey, I even beat cancer. But the fear of the unknown, of the suffering, the fear of my powerlessness in this situation. Oh, yeah. I felt positively paralyzed. For those of you who have received this diagnosis, I imagine you know that feeling well. It's a terrible, lonely feeling. And I remained frozen in this fear for several weeks. The kind words and the support of those around me did little to lift this sense of helplessness. As I condemned to a life of limitations and decline, I did not shake those dreadful thoughts. In the absence of being able to help myself, I asked for help. I turned to my husband's ship and that was the beginning of a wondrous change. He made it his goal to help me find specialists in movement disorders, Parkinson's in particular, and that began to turn things around for me. Unfortunately for me, or so I thought at the time, I learned that the key to managing Parkinson's is exercise. Everything I read said exercise, exercise, exercise. And regular exercise was the most important thing I could do to manage and delay the symptoms. But as a girl who grew up in the 50s, I didn't have much exposure to athletics or school sports. Exercise was not part of my daily, weekly, or even monthly routine. It never had been. And to be completely honest, the idea of a full-time commitment to exercise was terrifying. You see, I was not a goal-oriented person. I mean, the golden goal for me is a four-letter word. Not inspirational, not motivational, not anything other than nerve-wracking. And I knew that exercise, athletics, sports, all of those activities involved goal-setting. No way, not for me. But my approach to goals was essentially, if you don't set any goals, then you can't fail. Makes sense, right? No, of course not. But that's where I was. So this is where things get interesting. In my research to understand this disease, I came across the story of Davis Finney, a wildly successful professional cyclist with 328 stage wins during his career. Now, as a Parkinson's patient, Davis has made it his mission to help people with PD learn to live well every day. So let me share a clip from Davis's website. When I was first diagnosed with Parkinson's, I had had a relatively flourishing TV career following up on the heels of a good pro bike racing career. Living with Parkinson's takes a certain amount of courage. Living well takes a little bit more. And because you have to not be afraid to step outside your comfort zone, even within the confines of the disease. Exercise is part of the plan, but it's not the whole plan. There's introspection and mindfulness, which come into play. Mindfulness meaning paying attention to what's happening right here, right now, and enjoying that aspect, looking for the positive instead of the negative. To be honest, Davis Finney's story nearly overwhelmed me because I saw how severely challenging this disease can become. But Davis also awakened something inside me, especially regarding Parkinson's. Davis Finney says, live well today and every victory counts. I didn't really truly understand what that meant, but I saw a person dealing with Parkinson's head on a person who wasn't giving up and who, through determination and exercise, was living well with Parkinson's. Something about his story inspired me to start moving away from a place of fear and toward a place of hope. And with that slight shift in perspective, a door of opportunity opened. And in through that door walked my nephew, Adam. I love my nephew. I watched him grow up and witnessed his transformation into an amazing endurance athlete, one with a profound level of insight into life. He's one of those guys who will take on a three-day event and swim and ride and run hundreds and hundreds of miles. I think I never understand why he would do such a crazy thing, but I certainly admired it, and I knew there was something special about him. So when Adam heard about my diagnosis and learned that exercise was the most important thing I could do to manage it, he came up with an idea. He said, Susan, in your honor, and to help raise awareness about Parkinson's, I'm going to swim a beautiful lake in the Canadian wine country. I want to do this with you. I want you and I to do this together. Anyway, my dear nephew wanted to motivate me to embrace exercise, and he wanted to inspire me to go beyond what I thought was possible. He challenged himself to set, again, his world record by being the first to swim the entire 65-mile length of Okanagan Lake and challenge me to swim part of it with him. It was the craziest idea, so crazy that I agreed. Now could I not? Not only was I astonished and uplifted by Adam's enthusiastic belief in me, I was eager to be part of something that had true life-changing possibilities. And then suddenly, there it was, a big ol' goal that involved some big ol' exercise. Well, at this point there was no turning back, and honestly, I didn't want to turn back because for the first time since my diagnosis, I wasn't thinking about Parkinson's. I was thinking about training. I was thinking about Adam. I was thinking about how we were going to pull this off. So step one toward that goal for me was starting a training program. Adam helped me design daily exercise plans and goals, and it was hard. It was really hard at first. But Adam and I talked almost daily about the mind and the heart and the philosophy of what it takes to accomplish something beyond what we believe possible. We talked about staying positive. We talked about reframing our attitude to maintain that positive outlook. We talked about the big picture and talked about the small details. We talked about understanding there would be ups and downs. We talked about living in the present and enjoying the now. And as insecure as I was about my own physical capacity, I was motivated to get better and stronger and more confident so I could meet my own goals as well as support Adam, just as he was working hard to meet his goals as he was supporting me. And I kept hearing those words exercise, exercise, exercise in the back of my mind. And I knew that if anything could shift my mindset to embrace exercise, this would be it. Adam and I trained for six months. I got stronger. I lost weight. I started feeling healthier than I had ever felt. I stopped living in fear and I started embracing what life with Parkinson's can be. Meanwhile, Adam's wife, Amelia and her fabulous team of family and friends organized a crazily complex plan for how we could logistically pull off the swim. Support boats, food, water, ginger ale, Guinness World Record witnesses, navigators, coaches, energy, joy and love. And somehow over those six months, it all came together. This crew brought us a true sense of community, one that surrounded both Adam and me and their support was empowering and essential. Once the swim started, the goals we had set were no longer targets off in the distant future. They became our journey. What would unfold over the next two days was a magical roller coaster ride of adversity, hope, strength, will, teamwork and love. Swimming with Adam was the most beautiful part of the experience for me. He slowed down to match his stroke with mine and he matched his breathing with mine. And as a result, we made eye contact with every stroke and every breath. Beautiful, supportive, loving. Well, throughout the first day and a half, as I watched his elegant efficient stroke, I was mesmerized. And halfway through the second day, when he lost the use of his left arm about 12 miles before the finish line, I watched him stay positive and find ways to overcome his pain and loss of function. Eventually, we produced a documentary about the swim which we titled Victory Swim in honor of Davis Finney's mantra that every victory counts. If you've not yet seen the film or you'd like to see it again, please send me an email at susan at victorieswim.com. In the meantime, here's a little teaser in the form of our official trailer. A little over two years ago, I got this diagnosis. I have Parkinson's disease and went flat numb. When you hear that kind of a diagnosis from somebody that you love, you want to help. I'm standing at the northernmost point of Okanagan Lake and I'm ready to embark on a Guinness World Record attempt. What he said was, I want you and I to do this together. Pursuing exercise on a daily basis was one of the most important things that she could do to set her up for success as she lived with Parkinson's. I mean, of course, during the swim, most people were focusing on Adam because he's the one swimming 65 miles, but the whole reason he was doing it was for Susan. And then he stopped swimming with two arms. So now he's down to one arm. It seemed pretty clear to many people that we should stop. I knew I needed to keep my focus and to stay positive because I knew that my race was going to end and there was no cure for Parkinson's. The lessons I learned from the swim show up daily, especially when I'm exercising. They help me on my walks, in my training, and in my balance and strength work. They help me especially on days when I really don't feel like exercising at all. Because every day, for all of us, whether we have Parkinson's or not, every day has its own challenges. Sometimes just getting out of bed feels as overwhelming as swimming 65 miles. And as Adam prepared for the swim, he often said three things which I hope become as meaningful and inspiring in your life as you go about setting your goals as they have become in mine. Live in the present. Enjoy the now. So I often walk in my very hilly neighborhood at sunrise or at sunset and despite the physical challenge of those hills, I have discovered happily that the memories of those hill climbs are beauty and positivity and not a breathlessness and glute pain. Those memories help get me out the door when my motivation is lacking. Understand there will be ups and downs. Adam maintained that the mindset that his question was not if he could swim the entire 65 miles. It was how? And part of the reason he could do that was because he prepared himself for setbacks and I've learned to do the same. I'm aware that every day is different with my Parkinson's. I try to be accepting and patient with the down moments and days and to remember that there will always be up moments and days. Keep it simple. One thing at a time. Giving ourselves permission to keep our goals simple will increase our chances of success. Most of us are not going to have a nephew who can swim nonstop for 65 miles in order to motivate and inspire us. All of us, however, have people in our lives who are ready and want to help us through support, love and encouragement. Find those individuals and those communities and let them help. The willingness to look beyond our fears and limitations can offer us life changing opportunities. Giving ourselves a chance saying yes to ourselves, building a team, setting a goal and staying positive will lead to new levels of inner strength and insight. Whether you have Parkinson's or a care partner, a health care professional or someone who provides support services for people in this ever-growing community, you are a huge part of the success. I remain humbled, odd and truly inspired by the gifts my nephew gave me. Whether you have Parkinson's or not, engaging our bodies and improving our health through daily exercise is critical to well-being. Exercise, exercise, exercise. It's one of the many gifts that Parkinson's has given me. Life may not be easier, but I'm a better person today because I'm empowered, positive and truly grateful for every moment. I've set my goals and I'm on the path to achieving them. Davis Finney often ends his speeches by asking the audience to throw their arms up into a big V and say yes. The V is to remind us that every victory counts. Well, the first time I saw Davis lead his audience to a victory, V in my Parkinson's stiffened right shoulder limited my range of motion and gave me a very lopsided V. Well, that's okay unless you want more. When I thought about my nephew and what I learned from our swim, I made it a goal to get that range of motion back. It took a thoughtful, careful approach and months of exercise. I took it one day at a time and today I got my V back. So let's do that. Let's do it together. There's no right or wrong way to do this. Let your victory be in your yes, whether it's a whisper or a shout. Be a reflection of where you each of you are right now. Because Parkinson's doesn't get easier, but you can get stronger no matter where you are today. Keep fighting, keep believing and no, you're not alone. Welcome to support of this wonderful community. We call within our reach and celebrate each victory big and small, one moment at a time. Ready? On the count of three, let me see your victory V and let me hear your yes. One, two, three. Yes.