"Fighting Marjie"



My amazing run this past Saturday!



When my feet hit the pavement, it’s just me and my body and the world. And all at once I love myself, my body and the universe. My lungs, my heart, my head, my legs, my core. All working together in perfect harmony to take me mile by mile. And this past Saturday I accomplished 8.5 miles. My longest run to date was both preparation for this Sunday’s 10-miler and preparation for a life as a runner.

Two weekends ago, when I had run 6.5 miles, a friend asked me if I was training for something to have run that distance. Immediately I said, “Yes, a 10-miler March 30.”



Before Team Pink and Pearls' Silpada party fundraiser Sunday!



And then I thought more about it. Even when I’m not training I’m still running. I’ll always be running. Race or not, I run. I run for myself and I run for life. Running is a part of me just like coffee and Bravo TV. I run for so many reasons: to train for a race, to keep myself in shape, to keep my sanity, because I love it, because it’s fun, because it feels good, because it gives me a purpose, because it gives me a sense of accomplishment, because of that feeling afterwards, because of that feeling during. Because I love myself. Because it’s something I can control.

And because I love setting goals for myself and I love the finish line, I am going to run 13.1 miles before I turn 30.

I just will.

I had kind of thought about it before. I’m running 10 miles in March. 13.1 miles is 3.1 miles more than 10. Or, as my friend Amy said “Just think of it as 10 miles plus a 5K. And you’ve run A LOT of 5Ks.”

This is the same Amy who I did the Dirty Girl Mud Run with last June. The same Amy who gave me that final push I needed to sign up for Tour de Pink. I was on the fence, and her comment encouraged me to take the leap off the fence.

The same Amy who ran her first half-marathon last spring with the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society Team in Training in my honor.

The same Amy who has convinced me I absolutely can run a half-marathon.

So I had been thinking about it. And in the same urge/push/passion/drive/feeling-I-can’t-explain in which I signed up for Tour de Pink, I made the decision in my mind and in my heart that I am going to run a half-marathon.

I won’t be signing up until after TdP. But there is a half-marathon here on Dec. 7. That way I won’t have to travel, will have plenty of time to train, and what BETTER WAY TO TURN 30 THAN WITH A HALF-MARATHON?!

Boom. Consider it done.

So I will get through this Sunday’s 10 miles. And then I will continue to run throughout the spring and summer, but focus mostly on training with Sean for TdP. And when TdP is over I will sign up for the Nittany Valley Half-Marathon. And I’ll begin training in October, which shouldn’t be too overwhelming considering I’ll be running continuously throughout the spring, summer and fall.

Baby steps.

First I ran a 5K. And then I ran another 5K. And another and another and another. (And some more.) And then I told myself I was ready for a 10K. And a 200-mile bike ride. And a 10-miler. And then I’ll be ready for 13.1. I want to celebrate my thirty, flirty and thriving with a half-marathon.

For life. For myself. For 30. Because I can. Because I will. Because I want to.

I like plans. I like goals. I have energy and drive and passion. I want to use it. I stir. But I want to stir. Stirring keeps my sanity. And this is a topic I talk to Dr. Kelly about still, though not as much as before: I take on a lot to keep myself a certain way. To keep myself afloat. Because maybe if I’m not stirring I’m sad? I don’t know.

This past session we talked a lot about me putting on my “fighting Marjie” to maybe shield myself from true feelings of sadness about the LFS and adoption. I know what you’re thinking so I’ll get to that first: adoption is a blessing and it is going to be one of the best, most amazing experiences of our lives. Adoption is our choice. And it is the best choice for us. It will bring us a baby.

Still – Dr. Kelly made me look deeper: does it make me sad that I really didn’t have another option? (Or, instead of saying “really didn’t have another option” maybe I’ll say that any other option would have been extremely stressful and challenging and possibly devastating).

Take away the breast cancer the Li Fraumeni Syndrome and the childhood cancer and me not wanting to actually, physically be pregnant. Would we even mention the word “adoption?” Probably not. It probably wouldn’t even cross our minds. And it’s impossible to think of life had I not had breast cancer and not been diagnosed with LFS. That is so much of who I am, who we are, that it’s impossible to think what our lives would have been like otherwise.

I always have this “fighting Marjie” that says to myself and others that adoption is our choice and yes, it may not be conventional or what we had planned, but we’re not conventional and we’ve already been through hardships and came out better and stronger and we can do this and we can face this and we are excited about this and talking and talking and talking and talking. But am I sad?

Do I want to be pregnant? No.

Do I want to have breasts to breastfeed? No.

Do I want to have a natural baby? No.

Am I sad that my life course went this way? Maybe.

Do I want a baby? Yes.

Do I want to be a mom? Yes.

Will I be a mom? Yes

Will I be a good mom? Yes.

Am I sad that (taking away all of the ifs, ands and buts and details and technicallys) this really is my only choice? In that, because I had breast cancer and because I have LFS and because I had childhood cancer, THIS is how we have to have a family? Maybe.

Not sad about the adoption. Not sad about the choice.

Maybe sad about WHY.

And there it is.

Again – not sad about the adoption and not sad about the choice. Sad about what brought us here in the first place.

Because I so strongly focus on moving forward and my life now and not looking back and here are my stones and making choices and taking chances and turning hardships and challenges into positives and taking what I have and loving and appreciating and living fully without reserve.

Cute cupcakes at our book club meeting!

Because “fighting Marjie” doesn’t dwell. I have learned to take the bad and move on. Or make good from it. But always moving on. Always finding the positive. Because how well does it serve myself to wish I could have a natural baby or wish I didn’t have LFS or wish I didn’t have breast implants instead of the breasts I was born with or wish I didn’t have to get full body MRIs. NO. That’s not how I operate. That’s not how I function.

Instead I put on my big girl pants and I bike 200 miles.

I sign papers to bring home a baby.

I cherish life.

I fight every day.

There is nothing wrong with “fighting Marjie,” which both myself and Dr. Kelly agree with. But even fighting girls need a chance to be sad.

Just like with the breast cancer, I have to let myself feel sadness for these things I can’t control and didn’t plan. And then I can fight some more. But the important thing is I’m not fighting the sadness.



The Silpada fundraiser was a success! You can STILL order online by clicking the photo! Proceeds benefit Team Pink and Pearls!



I like “fighting Marjie” and I plan on keeping her around for a while. Because it’s that spirit that fuels my survivorship. It’s that spark that helps me thrive. It’s who I am and it’s who I want to be.

And what will make “fighting Marjie” even stronger? Acceptance.