Weekend Update!

Fundraising Goal Accomplished!

Thanks to my dad's generous donation and another one from a kind anonymous, I have reached my fundraising goal! When I set $1000 as my goal, I had no idea how giving you all were going to be. I thought it would take $20 and $25 donations from quite a few of my friends and family to make it to the thousand dollar mark; I have been very pleasantly surprised by the number of donations so far as well as the generosity of those who've donated.

I hope those among you who have not yet donated will continue to consider it. Any amount you are comfortable contributing will be greatly appreciated by me, my dad, and those cancer survivors and family members that the Lance Armstrong Foundation supports. Donations can be made by visiting my fundraising website.

Winter Weather

Billy has been hoping for one good winter storm this season; I have been hoping the sun will come out and allow me to leave my coat home in the closet. I despise a forecast like this as much as Billy loves it. I can't deny that the timing is good, however; he can hope for one last chance at a decent storm while I take a bit of a break and rest my body before entering the final few weeks of my training regimen.

National Marathon News

This morning I visited the website for the National Marathon for the first time since I qualified and registered, and I discovered that the Half Marathon portion has sold out! Thank goodness I qualified in time!

The National Marathon encourages you to "share your story" with their communications director. The website says "your story may even be part of the television race day coverage." I submitted my story after I registered for the race, and I haven't heard anything back, but maybe they will still get in touch with me. I thought that since I don't have any training info to post today, I'd "share my story" here instead:

While running the National Half Marathon, my strides will take me exactly 13.1 miles. But I'm running the race because of more significant distances and vastly more important strides. In 2004, I graduated from college and left my home in Oregon to move east to start a new life in Maryland. I never even thought twice about it.

In the winter of 2005/2006, I felt every one of the 2,800 miles that separated me from my father when he was diagnosed with colon cancer at age 53. I was a year and a half into my career as a public high school teacher, so I couldn't afford the time or money it would cost to drop everything and go home for my dad's surgery. His doctor was able to remove all the cancerous tissue, and my friends who still lived back home went to visit him in the hospital. This helped to assuage some of my guilt about not being there, but the feeling lingered. All spring and summer, my dad endured chemotherapy sessions every other week to ensure that the cancer would never return. When he finished his chemo regimen, his doctor suggested that there was a 90% chance he would remain cancer-free.

Cancer brought me closer to my dad. After his diagnosis, we spent more time talking on the phone than we ever had previously. In the summer of 2007, my dad walked me down the aisle and gave me away to the man for whom I moved to Maryland in the first place. He couldn't have been more happy or more proud of my husband and me when we began our new life as a married couple. My dad was excited to see the house we had just purchased and hear our plans to redecorate it. He seemed to be a picture of health at my wedding; we had no way of knowing the tumors were again growing inside him.

In October 2007, my dad called to break the bad news. One of his routine scans revealed that he had three tumors in his liver. For the past year and a half, my dad has been undergoing different chemotherapy treatments of various degrees. Every time it seems that the chemo has done its job, and he gets a short break from the treatments, the tumors reappear. Over the holidays, he told us that if this round of chemotherapy treatments is not successful, he will have about 40% of his liver removed. This will make him unable to work and force him to dramatically change his diet.

Meanwhile, I'm still all those 2,800 miles away. We continue to make it a point to talk to each other regularly on the phone, and we get to see one another in person several times a year. But I've never been there to sit with my dad through a chemotherapy session. I've never been home to help him recover from a treatment. I've never been along to hear the latest prognosis from the doctor. When my dad gets discouraging news, he not only has to figure out how to cope with it himself, he has to call me and rehash all the difficult details so that I'm aware of what's going on. Through all of this, his hope and determination have never wavered. He believes strongly in the message of the Lance Armstrong Foundation, which says that "Unity is strength. Knowledge is power. Attitude is everything."

This winter, I got tired of feeling helpless. I refused to believe that there was nothing I could do. I tried to figure out what I could do to help my dad, and I decided that I had to run the National Half Marathon. He coached all of my athletic teams throughout my childhood, and when I ran the Chicago Marathon in 2003, he flew into town to cheer me on. I knew he would be proud of me for putting the running shoes back on. I've also chosen to participate in the race to raise money for the Lance Armstrong Foundation. This will give my family and friends the chance to feel like they, too, are doing something more than just sitting around, waiting for the results of my dad's next scan. The LAF provides support for those who have just been diagnosed with cancer, those who are battling the disease, and those who are surviving it. My dad and I have always had great support from our family and friends. Through raising money for the LAF, I hope the members of our support system will be able to provide support for others who are not so lucky.

The 13.1 miles of the National Half Marathon seem short in comparison to the 2,800 miles between me and my dad. I hope, however, that running this race will help me feel like I'm bridging that gap. The strides I am taking to raise money for the Lance Armstrong Foundation through the support of my family and friends will help others continue living meaningful lives long after they are first diagnosed with cancer.

With every stride I take, every mile I cover, and every dollar I raise, I am saying I will not let cancer rule my life. I will not let the disease make me feel helpless. I will channel my anger and fear into making a positive change in the world. I will support my dad's determination to fight for his life. I will help the thousands of people across the country and throughout the world that battle this disease every day.