I just ran three miles on my treadmill. I have never been the athletic one in my family. My sister is the one who was born with the athletic streak -- she played softball and lettered in tennis after giving the sport a try with no previous experience and may have helped her high school basketball team win a state championship if it weren't for the major knee injury she suffered just before the big game. I, on the other hand, was born with a streak that has something to do with hair, nails, and lots of shoes. I was never interested in sports, gym shorts, or sweating -- which is what makes running three miles a big deal for me.

I wish I had started running long ago -- because I really like it. I like the loud music that pumps through my MP3 player and the change in my cadence as each new song begins. I like the motivation of knowing I'm pushing my body and accomplishing a physical challenge. I like that my endurance improves with each mile I travel. I like the mental release and the thoughts that run through my head and the cleansing effect I get from running. And I like sweating.

It's possible running would not have appealed to me long ago, even if I had given it a try -- because times were different long ago. I was healthy. I was happy. And I had no reason to marvel at the possibilities of my body. Without a natural impulse for physical fitness and challenge, I was completely satisfied with the status quo. But now I have an acquired impulse -- because cancer has threatened the very body I once took for granted. And I want it to be strong. I want it to be healthy. I want it to stand up to any possible threat. So I run. And when I am not running, I look forward to running.

In just a few weeks, I will run in the 5K Making Strides for Breast Cancer event with my athletic sister. I will run by her side. With my loud music for motivation. With the inspiration that I am making a difference for my body and for women everywhere. With my gym shorts on. And a ball cap covering my hair. With sweat dripping down my face. I can't imagine a better feeling.