Late last month

No one said life is fair. But we can find balance. At 59 years, my mom has had more than her share of health scares, but she's come through each and every one of them like a champ. Late in May 2012, my mom went in for a routine mammogram. They saw something they didn't like. A few days later she went in for a biopsy, and 16 days later she had a complete mastectomy of her right breast. They moved fast because the tumor was the aggressive sort. So her doctors were even more aggressive. And they saved my mom's life.

Jean is a champion. Right now she's at home recovering, far away in Colorado, and surrounded by her partner, Lisa, my grandmother, and friends and family. She is loved and cared for, and that will get her through.

Throughout this whole process I've felt powerless, confused, worried, and that's me: 2,000 miles away. How must it be for her? Right there, inside, at point blank. All I can do from here is talk to her, text, email, and stay positive, but we're still waiting on results from the lymph node biopsy and finding out about next steps. Most likely, they say, she will not need chemo or radiation. But for now there is the pain, nausea, and low blood pressure. So I go to the gym, and I punch a punching bag. I'm boxing her cancer and the nerve endings that are regenerating and telling her where it hurts to remind her of what's missing.

I hate that cancer, and I hate that she has to go through this -- again. It's not fair. So I decided, if it can't be fair, I'm going to create some balance. If my mom can get through a mastectomy, I can run. I'm going to train for and run a half marathon - for her, for her health, for her smile, every step I take is for everything she's ever done for me. And even then it wouldn't be enough to count all the ways she's made me who I am. If my mom can kick breast cancer, I'm going to kick my own ass. Cancer, you better start running, because I'm closing in.