Because I can.

I've watched "Dear 16 year old me" 4 times now.  It's the story that, quite literally, scarred me in 2004 and toughened up an otherwise fragile red head in 2007.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_4jgUcxMezM&hd=1

On June 17, 2004 I was diagnosed with Melanoma. For the first time.  I was 24, standing in my new home, boxes open and stacked, rooms half painted and unfurnished, boyfriend at work, parents at the shore, puppy asleep.  The phone rang.  I answered, out of breathe and half covered in yellow paint (pale yellow, not lemon), a doctor's voice distracts me from the cutting at the crown molding and forces my eyes out the window and up at the trees across the street.  Melanoma.  Surgery.  Immediately. Treatment.  Blood work. Bone scan.  Recurrence likely.  I hung up on her mid-sentence.  She called back.  I didn't answer.  My cell phone hit the wall solidly.

At that moment, I remember feeling marked and alone.  I had done this to myself.  Every sunburn - every tanning bad - every time I didn't wear SPF - every time I didn't heed my father's warnings.  Like putting a cigarette to my lips, I'd gone out and gotten myself cancer.  Months later, still recovering, I forgave myself for the cause and decided I wouldn't be a victim.  Not of cancer, not of wrongdoing, not of fault and of life.  And this is why I move forward.  This is why I run.  Because I can.  Because 7 years from that moment and 3.5 years from my last diagnosis, I am here and not wasting a moment.

It's not much more than grace and luck that I'm the one who caught it and is still standing; and so I run.  For me and for the unlucky ones.  This is what drives me to run at 5AM - because I can.  This is what wakes me up and puts my shoes on when 9 miles looms ahead on a muggy June morning.  This is what suits me up on the cold days and calms me down in a race.  Because I can.  I can feel anxiety and I can feel fear because I'm the lucky one.    If I could tell the 16 year old me anything it would be more than just "get out of the tanning bed," and "get ready for your first heartbreak on March 15, 1997." I would tell her to pay attention to the tough times because they make the good times all the sweeter; I would tell her to open up more and never waste a moment; I would tell her that it only hurts for a little while and time takes care of the rest; I would tell her that Clinique makes a great sunless tanner and life really does go on even if you resist.  I would tell her to hold hands whenever possible, make eye contact and connect with people - these things mean a lot to you when you get sick.  I would tell her she's surrounded herself with  loyal, beautiful people and she'll be ok.  I would tell her to never stop running.