I haven't cared for running for several months now. Earlier this year it was from terrible pelvic pain…then it was because it felt like my insides were shifting with each step…then it was because it made me realize my back was feeling great (because I felt the ache only when I ran). I have valid reasons that no one can really argue with, least of all myself.

But argue, I do. I am fit enough to run, and I vowed after my mother died that I would use my health to benefit those who do not have theirs. When I received the email for this year's Gilda's Run, I knew that I would sign up. I told Nick that I would do the walk, but as the day grew closer and I read more about little Grace, I felt like I was supposed to run this one. I know better than anyone that Cancer affects more than just the physical, and Gilda's Club nurtures the emotional.

The run starts in about two hours, and my stomach is in knots. I keep asking myself why I just can't stay away from these, why I just can't give it up all the way. This is probably the classic definition of addiction: being compelled to do something long after it stops being enjoyable.