DR. NOEL ROWAN: One step at a time

75-year-old oncologist does his best to spread the fitness bug

larry Cruikshank/view"I want to live forever and I want to practice forever. So far, I?m on track," said Dr. Noel Rowan, left, who begins his exercise regimen every day before the sun comes up. Right, Danny Branchini joins his neighbor during a morning walk. larry cruikshank/viewDr. Noel Rowan, 75, left, works up a sweat as he completes a daily walk with his neighbor Dan Branchini. The two meet daily before the sun rises and walk around their neighborhood on a 5-mile loop.

Dr. Noel Rowan has got the fitness bug, and it's contagious.

His ambition in his exercise regimen, in his diet and at his job has spread to most everyone he knows, especially his colleagues and patients at the Comprehensive Cancer Centers of Nevada, where he works as an oncologist. And his daily exploits speak even louder than his countless words of encouragement to live healthy.

"They see me healthy and working at 75 and think, if he can live healthy, I can, too," said Rowan, who believes anyone can take on an exercise regimen if they simply start with a half-mile walk.

Rowan's alarm sings at 5 each morning, a half-hour before the sun peeks over the eastern mountains to silence neon Las Vegas. He eats a quick breakfast, typically a piece of fish, a banana and a glass of milk, then laces up his New Balance shoes and hits the road.

Most days he'll wait at the end of his driveway to meet his neighbor, 55-year-old Danny Branchini, who refers to Rowan as "Little Napoleon." The two walk, and occasionally jog, side-by-side 10 times around their condo complex to complete 5 miles. Throughout the past three years, the bulk of his fitness routine has slowed down to a brisk walk.

Rowan believes his years on the pavement have improved his blood circulation, memory and offer an explanation for his young energy.

His wife agreed.

"I don't know how he runs five miles every day and still goes to work, but somehow he does it," Catherine Rowan said. "He'd be bored within five minutes if he weren't doing something he enjoyed."

Jogging became part of Rowan's regimen in his late 20s when two of his colleagues -- a cardiologist and a neurosurgeon -- convinced him to join them on jogs. Soon, he was hooked.

"I'm addicted to this," he said."

His discipline extended to his diet in his mid-30s when Rowan said he realized that the fast food he scarfed down today would soon hang on his waist.

He admits, he runs so he can eat. Food is constantly on his mind, Rowan said, and he must be strict if he wants to stay trim.

"To me, food is comfort," said Rowan, who steps on a scale every morning. "It's all about portion control. I've been on a diet my whole life."

He keeps meals simple: fruit, cottage cheese, chicken, an occasional sweet and lots and lots of fish.

"Everybody knows all I eat is salmon," Rowan said. "If I'm invited over for dinner, they have salmon."

Rowan says he has a lot of reasons to stay healthy and active. He and Catherine just celebrated 15 years of marriage; he has five children and seven grandchildren; and he loves his job.

An hour after his morning run, Rowan can be found in his white medical coat, ready to see patients.

Between appointments, he dashes through the cancer center with a wave and a few friendly jokes.

Most would think Rowan's light-hearted demeanor would clash in an office that frequently hands out cancer diagnoses. But his colleagues say his optimism is the perfect medicine.

"We get in some sad situations, but if we look depressed, it will affect our patients," said Raul Meoz, a radiation oncologist who has worked with Rowan for several years. "We come to them hopeful and want to help them. Dr. Rowan has that attitude."

Rowan considers it his duty to help every one of his patients in some way, even if it's to prolong a terminal cancer patients' life for two years.

"There are crucial years there," Rowan said. "There used to be so little help and at least now we have more options."

Rowan moved to Las Vegas 16 years ago to escape the winters in Pennsylvania, where he practiced for 30 years. He's in his 52nd year of oncology and gives no sign of slowing down.

"I want to live forever and I want to practice forever. So far, I'm on track," he said.