As I packed all the essential items I need for my sprint triathlon last week­end, I reflected on what I would need for courage for a successful com­ple­tion.

My cues for courage are not objects like a bike or a wet suit. My cues are real people. Real people who embody what it is to be brave.

One trait of courage is the ability to “feel fear, and yet choose to act.”

I witness this fear and bravery in both my cancer and tri­athlon worlds.

Weekly, I watch women confront the fear of open water swimming. Some will experience rapid breathing, almost panic, often needing to swim to a nearby kayak to recover. Even though they are afraid, they will return to the water, again and again, trying every recom­mended coaching strategy. By the end of the summer, these women will have confronted their fears to swim a half-mile distance in a large reservoir. These women are practicing another characteristic of courage, which is per­severance in the face of ad­versity. Each woman returns to the lake and swims again and again.

In my weekly cancer support circle, I witness courage despite fear over and over. Recently, a 42-year old woman with two young children successfully completed a course of chemotherapy plus major abdominal sur­gery for cancer of the abdomen. She was afraid of the abdominal sur­gery and the accompanying sur­gery. Despite her fears, she traveled to the big city hospital and underwent the procedure. She per­severed even when the chemotherapy made her nauseous and weak. Three months after she finished her treat­ment, two more lesions were found in her lungs. She is now recovering from additional difficult sur­geries. She embodies per­severance in the face of ad­versity. Her latest update was “I am still fighting.”

Another trait of courage is letting go of the familiar. The familiar is safe, the routine is comfortable.

In the tri­athlon world, there are many opportunities to practice letting go of the known. Last year, a 25-year old woman learned how to ride a bike for the first time. During the training season, she fell several times. She demonstrates courage to me. This year she is passing me with confidence. Other women have never participated in any athletic event of any kind. I watch in awe as they grow in confidence with each race. All of us swimmers lose sight of the shore, then we know it is time to just keep swimming.

Right now, one of my closest friends and coach of the tri­athlon team is participating in a clinical trial for treatment of her metastatic breast cancer. She is afraid of the unknown side effects. For treatment, she has to leave our familiar local cancer center and enter the world of the large university hospital. In between the cancer treatments, she continues to coach, and she assisted 62 women in the completion of a sprint tri­athlon. She may be afraid, but she per­severes, confronts her fears, leaves the familiar, and fights this cancer. She embodies courage for all of us in both the cancer and tri­athlon worlds.

In the cancer world, I witness my friends confront the unknown of cancer every day. When they lose their hair, their strength, or even a body part, the familiar disappears. They no longer feel or look the same. I hear their stories and know I am witnessing courage.

They share how they are revising what is important to them. When you face death up close, you reflect. I listen closely to how different individuals are following their heart and spirit.

Both my husband and I took earlier retirements because of my multiple myeloma and its recurring relapses and remissions. Doing so required us to face fears about money, to let go of comfortable routines, to per­severe. In the end, we followed our hearts. We now have more time for family, friends, and new ad­ventures.

We all want to be brave. I believe in every life we have chances to exhibit courage. With tri­athlons, we choose to compete, to confront fears, leave the shores, and practice self-discovery.

I did not choose multiple myeloma. My friends did not choose cancer. Yet we have learned courage to survive and even thrive.