You are all aware of the Marathon Bombings in 2013, but what I don't talk about much, if at all, is that less than a month before (March) I was diagnosed with early stage breast cancer...at the age of 34...with two children under the age of 5. After going through test after test, exam after exam, multiple imaging studies, we learned that my options were slim. Read: I had none. I was going to have a mastectomy and that was about all there was to say about it. So after taking a few days to let it all settle, and dealing with the fear, anger, sadness and more fear that accompany those words, we were back in the office with oncology surgeon and plastic surgeon, my team - as they are often referred to, and a plan was put in place.
If you recall, or read back over the last few posts, I was training at this time to run the Pittsburgh marathon. It was going to be my first 26.2 but I had had an injury I was dealing with and decided to run the half instead. This lead to conversation between my surgeon and I about running and I find out she runs too. So there's lots of running talk, comparing half PRs, and tears because no one is sure when I'll be able to start running again. In every office, at every appointment there's running talk. And in every office at every appointment I cry when it's brought up.
Fast forward to April 15. The Monday of the Boston Marathon. I was sitting at home figuring I would just follow the race on Twitter. Then the tweets started coming and I flipped to the TV news stations. Who would bomb a marathon? Without knowing anyone you suddenly felt for everyone. That's the thing about runners, we're like an unspoken family. It was concerning and consuming.
Nine days later I'm sitting in a hospital pre op waiting. This wasn't my first surgery, but was the biggest, most monumental medical procedure to date. Everyone: nurses, doctors, anesthesiologists are talking about running, the marathon, Boston. It was all a ploy to make me think of anything but the reason I was there, I think. Either way, it worked.
Then in September Ian and I traveled to Boston to celebrate our 10th anniversary and being cancer free. And to relax at Fenway and watch the Red Sox sweep the Yankees in the final home stand of the season. A love affair was born and I'm pretty sure we both left a little piece of our hearts in Boston.
So in about 28 weeks we'll back in Boston. And I'll be running. I will admit I'm still in a little bit of shock, I honestly didn't think I would be chosen to run for DFMC. I had said I was afraid they wouldn't pick me, but scared that they would. Running for DFMC is a great honor and opportunity. You are helping raise money to fund groundbreaking cancer research. The majority of this research is in its infancy so it doesn't get the government funding more proven studies do. Without these funds discoveries could be pushed back years, if even occurring at all. This will be the 26th year for DFMC, and the goal is to raise $5.2 million dollars for the Claudia Adams Barr Program in Innovative Basic Cancer Research. You can learn more using the links at the top of the page. You can follow this link or click the box in the sidebar to donate. Together we can for those who cannot.
'Together, we're headed toward the ultimate finish line: a world without cancer.'