This is Easy!

Okay, obviously I'm deluding myself, but my first real training day with Team in Training really made me feel like I can do this! I know that 13 miles is very different than 3 miles. On the one hand, I figure I only have to repeat what I did today 3.5 more times, and I'll be done. On the other hand, it just seems like a really long way to keep going. 

Real athletes are really into their gear. Which of course I always thought was a bit silly. But after the recommendation last week, I bought a handy little watch that beeps at intervals, and today I just did what my watch told me to do. When it beeped I started running; when it beeped again I switched to walking. I think that watch is going to make a huge difference in training - I'm horrible at following directions, but resetting the watch is a pain. So It will just be easier to keep doing what my watch tells me to do, and somehow I'll be ready in October!

My Mission

I was diagnosed with Hodgkins Lymphoma in September 2004, shortly after my mother was diagnosed with massive metastasized ovarian cancer, and given only 3 months to live. Because my father¹s twin sister had died of Hodgkins before I was born and I had seen the symptoms before, I was 99% sure of the diagnosis before the doctor even called.  I went through 8 months of chemotherapy. During that time, my mother also began chemo. So, on opposite sides of the country, we went through chemotherapy together.


On May 18, 2005, I finished my last round of chemotherapy. My Mom was able to celebrate that, as well as my 6 month clean bill of health. My Mom lost her battle with cancer on May 6, 2006, 21 months after she was given 3 months to live.


I began doing Relay for Life the following year. It was important for me to be part of something that raised funds for cancer research. The year after that, my friend Anita was diagnosed with CML. I walked in her honor, and then after she lost her fight in 2010, I walked in her memory. I also began participating in the Light the Night walk to honor her as part of the team her husband put together. I raised money on her husband's behalf for the Man and Woman of the Year program, and I'm happy to say I was part of getting a research project named in Anita's honor.

Anita left behind a loving husband and wonderful son. She was kind of fearless, and willing to tackle almost anything. I have always admired her, and being fearless was something I tried to do as well. I'm not even remotely an athlete, but last summer a couple of my girlfriends from high school and I participated in the Danskin Women's Triathlon. I think it struck me then what a gift it was to be able to do something like that, no matter how slowly and awkwardly. And so this year, I thought I'd try something else that's a little fearless, and a lot beyond my comfort level, and do a half-marathon. When I ran across the Nike Women's Half Marathon and the Team in Training connection, I think I knew it was meant to be.


My scans have all been clear, and my prognosis is excellent. The survival rate for Hodgkins has increased from 40 percent when my aunt was diagnosed, to 92 percent now. That's because of the research that's been done, and I want to make sure continues to be done. I don't want another family to go through the loss that Anita's family did. Finding better treatments could have prevented that.


So, that's my mission and sense of purpose. That's why I'm challenging myself to this half marathon. That's why I'm raising money for the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society. 


I hope you'll join me in helping to improve treatments and find cures. 

In the Beginning...

It starts with those 3 words. Those 3 crazy, incomprehensible words that turn your world upside down and forever redefine who you are. "You have cancer."

In my case, Hodgkin's Lymphoma. Stage 3A to be exact. I knew it before the call came; family history and lumps like golf balls above my collar bones made it pretty obvious. But even so, that call made me go hollow inside.

I read somewhere that you become a survivor the moment you are diagnosed with cancer. You may not recognize it then and there, but it happens. Something shifts inside you. For me, "survivor", with all the fear and promise that the word entails, is now and forever a part of who I am.

This is my story of surviving and thriving. It's my story of growth. But more than anything, it's my story of hope.