Hi Northstar family,
Some of you know bits and pieces of my story, but I wanted to share it more fully here. Because I think runners understand something that’s easy to forget: Every mile we run has a story behind it.
For me, getting to run—even when it’s hard, even when it’s messy—is nothing short of a miracle.
The Diagnosis That Changed Everything
In 2017, I was diagnosed with Acute Myeloid Leukemia.
It was an absolute shock as I literally only believed people in movies had such things happen to them and although I was a bit of a hypochondriac back then, Leukemia wasn’t even on my radar.
The cancer was aggressive, and the treatments were brutal. I went through multiple rounds of chemotherapy, radiation for sarcomas, and a bone marrow transplant from my sister.
During my final round of chemo, I spent time in ICU due to complications. I was so sick at one point that there were real questions about whether I’d survive at all.
The Hardest Days
I want to be honest:
- My body was wrecked.
- My strength was gone.
- There were days I couldn’t even get out of a wheelchair.
- There were times I wondered if I’d ever walk around the block again, let alone run.
It was humiliating and even terrifying and I was grieving the life I knew, the body that had carried me before, now felt broken and I didn’t even feel like me anymore.
Cancer tried to take everything.
My hope. My joy. My sense of who I was.
A Radical Decision
After the chemo that had me in the ICU and almost killed me, my oncologist met with us and told me that my bone marrow biopsy was clean, however she didn’t believe I would live without what I called “forever chemo” meaning that I would be on a low dose of chemo until I died. Little did I know at that time, she had also shared a letter with my husband Chris, that said that I likely only had 6 months to live.
That day I fired that oncologist and met with a different one. The new one encouraged me to live my life and my doctor at Mayo clinic okayed me to travel to Optimum Health institute in California as long as I was willing to get blood tests weekly.
When I made the decision to skip the chemo that my body definitely would not have been able to handle, It wasn’t because I wasn’t scared. It was because I knew in my whole being, that it was the right decision for me.
So, Instead of going through another round of poison, I chose something completely different.
Chris and I traveled to California, one way tickets and spent 3 weeks at Optimum Health Institute. (OHI)
A raw vegan healing retreat.
A place that focused on detoxification, nutrition, spiritual work, and hope.
Finding My Own Healing Path
At OHI, I began to see that healing wasn’t just about killing cancer cells.
It was about feeding myself.
Loving myself.
Learning to listen to my body, to trust it again after it had felt like a battlefield.
At OHI I started to heal. After a week of eating the raw vegan foods, my blood counts started to improve, my body became more stable and I even started to walk around the campus.
Running? What’s that? I’m a walker.
And here’s the thing: I wasn’t a runner before cancer.
I loved walking and hiking, being in nature, but running?
It wasn’t something I did.
It wasn’t even really on my radar.
So when cancer took away my ability to even walk without help, it felt like a devastating loss of the little movement I did love.
The Long Road Back
Even after OHI, it wasn’t like I magically woke up healthy.
I came back to a body that had been through war.
✨ Weak muscles.
✨ Chronic fatigue.
✨ Fear of relapse.
✨ Graft-vs-host disease that still needs management.
I had to rebuild everything.
At first, walking a block was my marathon.
Standing from a chair was my interval workout.
Catching my breath was my victory lap.
The Spark That Made Me Try Running
Even after years of recovery, I still wasn’t a runner.
That didn’t come until May 2024.
I was in New Hampshire, cheering on my new running friends as they completed a marathon.
I watched them cross the finish line.
I saw their camaraderie.
I felt their energy.
I watched them laugh, cry, hug, celebrate.
And I thought:
“I want that.”
It lit a spark in me I didn’t know I had.
I wanted to feel that alive.
I wanted to be part of something like that.
From Wheelchair to Runner
So I started.
Slow. Awkward. Unsure.
Walks with tiny jog intervals.
Doubts at every step.
But I didn’t stop.
Because there was this voice inside me whispering:
“You can do more. You are more. Don’t forget.”
And slowly, unbelievably, I became a runner.
Why I Run Today
When you see me at a Northstar run, know this:
I’m not just logging miles.
I’m celebrating a body that wasn’t supposed to make it.
I’m honoring the friends I lost to cancer who can’t run anymore.
I’m proving to myself—over and over—that I am still here, still healing, still choosing joy.
What I’ve Learned
If cancer taught me anything, it’s this:
✨ Healing isn’t linear.
✨ Progress can be painfully slow.
✨ You have to advocate for yourself.
✨ Your body is your ally—even when it feels broken.
For me?
I am a runner.
A healer.
A warrior.
A believer in second (and third and fourth) chances.
To My Run Club Family
Thank you for being part of my journey.
For cheering me on even when I’m struggling.
For letting me be here—exactly as I am.
If you’re fighting your own battle right now—health, grief, fear, self-doubt—I see you.
I want you to know:
✨ You’re not alone.
✨ You’re stronger than you think.
✨ Healing is possible.
✨ And it’s okay to take the next step, even if you can’t see the finish line yet.
