Hello I'm Anne Feeley

I didn't start long distance cycling, competition rowing, or mountain climbing until after I was diagnosed with brain cancer. Before that I was living a normal life as a mom, wife and baker who exercised to keep reasonably fit.

I was born in New Jersey and went to college in Boston where I met my husband. We had always wanted to live in Europe and when our children were one and four years of age, we decided if we didn't do it now we maybe we never would. So we took the plunge. We moved to Prague where we lived for 15 years. In Prague, we raised our two daughters. After my daughters were in school, I opened and ran Bakeshop Praha which remains a popular landmark for locals and tourists.

In April 2006, while on vacation in New York City, I suddenly began slurring my words. My friends and family thought I was overtired from travelling. One family member thought I had begun drinking. During that week, I quickly went downhill. I had trouble reading and writing. I stopped answering emails. I couldn't taste chew or swallow food properly. Unthinkingly, I spent energy hiding the problem. By the time I got home to Prague, I was having real trouble thinking and moving and speaking. My husband thought I was having a stroke. I was rushed to the hospital, and they did an emergency MRI – and within minutes, they told me I had a brain tumor.

My husband called my rheumatologist in London to help us find a good brain specialist. Within two days, I was in London, and two days later I had brain surgery at the Royal Marsden Hospital to remove the tumor. The brain surgeon told me the operation went well: “all seeable tumor was removed”. He said that the tumor was being tested so soon we know what type of tumor I had since there are many different kinds. But that word “seeable” hovered in the back of my mind. Less than a week later the results came back. My tumor was a glioblastoma multiforme, the most common and most deadly form of brain cancer.

The doctors told me to put my affairs in order and prepare to die. My husband, my mother and I were sobbing. It was heartbreaking to see their faces. I was shocked and frightened and thinking of my daughters. The doctors left the room so we could digest the news together. We stood looking at each with such sadness and fear and love.

Later that day, I met my oncologist, Dr. Frank Saran. Though he mostly works with children, he had agreed to be my doctor (once again my rheumatologist had made a great recommendation). I knew immediately he was the doctor for me, because the first thing he said to my husband was that from that point forward, I was to call all the shots. Dr. Saran didn't hide the truth from me. He also told me the grim statistics, but reminded me that they were only statistics -- not necessarily my future.

My husband and I decided our goal for me was to live to attend my younger daughter's high school graduation in two years. My mother had died when I was twelve and the thought of inflicting on them the terrible loss and suffering I had felt as a child was unbearable to think about. And even after my father remarried a wonderful woman four years later, I still felt the great sadness that losing a mother brings to one's soul. I felt the older the girls were, the better able they would be able to cope.

After the diagnosis and while awaiting the radiation and chemo to begin, I spent a lot of time preparing myself for battle. I read everything reliable on the internet about brain cancer. I read the American Brain Tumor Association site every day. I would read and reread what I could expect and I would pour over the survival stories. And most importantly for me, I started working out five times a week with a physical trainer named Stephen Price.

I began my exercise routine while the staples were still in my head. After a few weeks, I added yoga to my training.. Some days I cried all through the yoga class, but I did it. I ever so slowly I got stronger even while going through radiation and chemo. I bought an old bike and cycled back and forth to my radiation sessions. When I first attempted running , I could only manage seven steps. We slowly worked at it. A Welsh trainer named Huw Warren kindly and with great humor trained me for a half marathon that we did less than a year later. My finishing time wasn't great, but I finished and I felt wonderful. I learned that working toward specific challenges is essential for me. So I started training for different events.

In the year after my surgery, I also attended the American Brain Tumor Walk in Chicago. It was its second year and about 1000 people took part. It was and is inspiring. My family and I love sharing our hope and sadness with so many others. But I saw how lucky I was that I could train, how lucky I was that I could walk, run, and ride. How lucky I was to be alive. Most people after brain surgery do not survive more than two years. And most that survive suffer from the surgery and radiation – blindness, paralysis, lack of balance, and many other physical problems.

In 2007, I began working with another wonderful trainer named Gundula Hennig (Gundy) We bonded immediately and soon realized that we both loved hard physical challenges. Together we completed the England Three Peak Challenge (climbing the three highest mountains in the UK in 24 hours), the International Indoor Rowing Championship, and the Sea to Sea bike event (across the UK) as well as several 10k runs.

During my third walk with the American Brain Tumor Association in 2009, I came up with the idea for Brains on Bikes. Every year the number of people who walk has grown. Last year, over 5,000 people were walking. As I talked to participants, I realized that I couldn't find any other survivors who had lived as long as I have. Most of the people walking were loved ones, participating in memory of those that had died. I realized that we needed to put brain cancer on the map, educate the public and raise much more money for brain cancer research. My contribution would be to raise awareness and funds by riding my bike across the U.S. – from California to Washington, D.C.

When I invited Gundy to join me in this ride, she immediately said yes. In April 2010 Gundy, my dog Walter and I will go on a journey across the United States. We aim to raise awareness about brain cancer and to raise funds for brain cancer research and local support organizations.

Join Brains on Bikes online or join us at one of our many stops and help us outsmart brain cancer.