“My grandmother, she started walking five miles a day when she was 60. She’s 97 today and we don’t know where the hell she is.” ~Ellen Degeneres

My grandma, “Ama” turned 80 years old today. Having a new octogenarian in the family, I’ve studied her carefully, trying to figure out some of her secrets to life. I’m fascinated by people such as Jack LaLanne who continue to thrive well into their winter years.

Ama started walking a few miles each day in her 50s, and she’d say exercise has been her lifeblood. In a note I received today, she glowed: “I need to stay busy and I LOVE yard work.” (BTW, the “O” in “love” was a HEART).  She still walks, almost every day.  Four years ago, on her 76th, she hiked Angels Landing.

She drinks only beer, coffee, milk and water, and she doesn’t eat cheese. She takes niacin and a multivitamin but she’s not a supplement fan. And definitely not big on modern medicine.

I’ve learned so much in life from her that it’s difficult to describe. But the most striking things came into focus in the last year, (more…)

I spent many weeks this year with my family in Utah, shuttling back and forth to the hospital, where mom received chemotherapy. One morning, she was excited to tell me that there was a 1 mile jog/walk trail around the hospital. So while mom received her treatment, I went running. I came back sweaty, but I could tell she was proud of me for doing it.

Sooner or later, we all experience hardship, but nobody feels like exercising when faced with stressful life circumstances, such as the death of a parent.

During times of stress, I now believe it’s important to exercise more — not less. Exercise works about as well as antidepressants to lift your mood. My doctor calls it our “natural morphine.”

I know my mom wants me to take excellent care of myself.  So I’ve started running again and am making more healthful food choices. As HER mother (my 79-year-old grandmother) says: “Food is my medicine.”  You don’t have to break the bank to make healthy choices, just be smart about it.

It might be hard to get started—that’s inertia. There’s no way around it. So, put on some shoes and shorts, grab your iPod, and just do it.

It will get easier once you start, I promise.

After a quick pit stop in Los Angeles this week, I’m driving back to my grandmother’s in Utah tomorrow. On Saturday, we will make the drive north together to see my mom, who is in the hospital. I am grateful for all of your positive thoughts and prayers. Peace, Love, Lunges. —Sam

My mom was hospitalized last Friday, and we are in Utah. Thank you for all of your love and support in my mother’s heroic battle with cancer. Please bear with me as the posts may be a bit slower than usual. Peace, Love, Lunges… -Sam

I took this photo in the last hour of my visit to Utah to see my mom 0n Mother’s Day.  She really liked this picture. That made me smile.”

Cowboy Turns 41 from Sam Page on Vimeo.

GROWING UP, I used to pretend that my red Radio Flyer was my very own car. I’d take imaginary trips to see my grandmother in southern Utah, holding an invisible steering wheel as I guided the “car” along each bend in the road. When I arrived at her house, I never wanted to leave.

Some things never change.

On my shoulder is a tattoo from Where the Wild Things Are. It’s the story of Max, a mischievous boy who goes on a scary adventure in a jungle far from home. He dances with monsters, who crown him “king of the wild things.”  We named our Yorkshire Terrier after him.

Max has come to symbolize my journey through life. After high school, I needed to get out of Utah. I didn’t know how to deal with the reality that I was into guys. After college, I moved to LA and launched HERO Magazine. Maybe then they’ll accept me, I thought. I spent the better part of a decade chasing that.

In the wake of my mom’s health, that seems so distant and unimportant now.

There’s this flood of conflicting emotions inside me; I’m still in a daze.
I’m angry that we’ve essentially lost 12 years: we’ll never get them back.
I feel guilty: did I contribute to her cancer?

I’m coming to grip with that line in Fight Club:

This is your life, and it’s ending one minute at a time.

I’m overwhelmed by all the love and support, and at the same time I’m not very good at accepting help. Ironically, the concern of loved ones causes me to retreat deeper into the jungle.

Fortunately, Where the Wild Things Are ends on an up note: Max eventually gets lonely and returns home to his room and finds a hot supper waiting for him.

Like Max, these past seven days have taught me that no matter how hard you try, you can’t run away from home.

My mother is not well, and I am worried about her. She is due for a pretty major operation tomorrow, St. Patrick’s Day, which is also my grandmother’s 79th birthday. My mom and I spoke on the phone yesterday for about an hour, and it was one of the most difficult conversations we’ve had, probably only second to my coming out conversation in 1996. When we hung up the phone I was left with the nagging reality that she could be… mortal.

I never think about my mother dying. She is the impermeable stalwart of life — the one who bore me, after all. Imagining a world without her, even though our relationship is very different now, is terrifying.

If you don’t see many blog entries this week, you’ll know why.

I caught Ice Blink tonight on PBS and was incredibly inspired by the story of the Martin family. If you are interested in lifestyle design (or re-design), then I recommend this 1-hour documentary. It’s now airing on PBS (check your local showtimes) but you can also buy the film on DVD directly from the family.

We’ve been abuzz the house all weekend, moving and assembling furniture between trips to IKEA (several of them) in preparation for the move in of my mother-in-law, Conny. I’m psyched that she is moving in with Bronson and me next weekend: woo hoo family!!!