Back in 2002, photographs of a somewhat plump Jamie Lee Curtis appeared in many popular magazines. At the time, Curtis was just two years into pursuing sobriety and had gained upwards of 20 pounds. It appeared Curtis was flaunting her new look, perhaps even giving the public permission to be happy in their own skin. Not a bad thing, right?

It was a bad idea, says Curtis who now regrets communicating to the masses that letting yourself go is OK. Because it's not. Now fit and trim -- not skinny, just trim -- Curtis says in the July 2007 issue of Ladies Home Journal, "So I think what some people took from those photos was: Love yourself, no matter what. And the problem with this is: What if what you're doing is unhealthy?"

"And the problem is that how many of us are killing ourselves every day? Who here has high blood pressure and is still eating salt and French fries? Who has been told that her liver is enlarged and unless she stops drinking she's gonna end up with liver disease and/or need a liver transplant? We create senseless acts of violence against ourselves every day. And we live in this amnesia that we're not."

This morning I attended the kickoff breakfast for the Making Strides Against Breast Cancer walk being held October, 28th in Ocean City, New Jersey.

Making Strides Against Breast Cancer is a noncompetitive walk to help fight breast cancer and provide hope to people facing the disease. Your participation will support the American Cancer Society's lifesaving research, prevention, early detection, and support programs for thousands of patients and their families.

I learned today that Making Strides is more than just a walk -- it is the amazing progress that is being made to defeat breast cancer. This is truly an inspiring event!

Check out Making Strides for Breast Cancer walks in your area -- here.

It's my boys who distract me most from exercise. That's just the way it is. They're kids. They have needs and wishes and demands that keep me busy from sun-up to sun-down. It's hard to find time for fitness. I don't go to a gym. I prefer to use my own treadmill, walk the seven hills in my neighborhood, run outdoors, and conduct my scrunching, pushing, lunging, squatting, and resisting in the privacy of my own home. I don't have a gym membership with free childcare offerings or a list of babysitters who will come to my rescue when I need to huff and puff. I have me, my kids, and the hours in the day, though. And I am trying desperately at fitting fitness in.

Today, after enduring what seemed like endless little-boy fighting and tormenting, I determined my guys needed a workout just as much as I did. I threw them in the car. I threw their scooters, a big wheel, and a football in the car too. We drove to a nearby community college track, unloaded ourselves and our gear, and got to work. I ran two miles. And six-year-old Joey and four-year-old Danny scooted, pedaled, walked, ran, climbed a pile of dirt, and threw their football until their faces were splotchy from the heat, their little bodies zapped with fatigue.

Our whole fitness feat took no more than one hour and ended as we guzzled water and poured our sweaty selves back into the car. Back home, I felt so much better about my day. And I was better equipped for the fighting that continued as soon as we walked in the door.

Today is my dad's 65th birthday. He always loved visiting Arizona over the years, he finally made his dream come true by moving to Tucson. My dad has always lived a very healthy lifestyle -- I believe that is why is he in such good physical and mental shape today.

One year before I was diagnosed with breast cancer we ran the 5k at the Susan G. Koman Race for the Cure in Philadelphia. That was back in 2000, however my dad has been running in races for over thirty years. We also tackled the Avon 2 Day walk in New York City in the fall of 2003.

Jack is a non-smoker, a jogger, hiker, a golfer, and a chess player -- it is important to not only exercise the body -- but also the mind.

Keep it up dad. Happy birthday!! I love you!

Nicole Labrecque was only three years old when she lost her battle with hepatoblastoma, a rare liver cancer. That was 16 years ago and for the last six years, Nicole's father Richard has been raising money to help seriously-ill children like his daughter have their special wish come true.

Richard said his daughter died suddenly three days after the family's Make-A-Wish trip to Disney World. Richard Labrecque told reporters, "She spent a beautiful week having fun and for a few days, she was able to forget about the pain of surgeries and chemotherapy. It is priceless to see these kids have fun. Nicole was three years old and we were swept off our feet. I'm dedicated to this organization."

In the past five years, Nicole's walk has raised over $70,000, which has gone to the Vermont Make-A-Wish Foundation. The annual walk, which will be held this year on May 20, 2007 on the Toonerville Trail in Springfield, VT starts at 9:30 a.m. The trail is 6.2 miles.

All participants get a purple T-shirt -- purple was Nicole's favorite color.

This past mothers day weekend I attended the Shirley Mae Run & Gilda's Club Walk held in Atlantic City, New Jersey. It was a beautiful Saturday to take a stroll on the boardwalk. My dad flew in from Arizona for the event and my mom drove from Philadelphia. I'm very lucky that my parents are so supportive.

The Shirley Mae Breast Cancer Assistance Fund was started by Roy Goldberg to honor his mother, Shirley Mae, who survived breast cancer. The fund assists breast cancer patients in the south-eastern area of New Jersey with the cost of medicine, wigs, prostheses, and anything else needed to relieve financial stress so they can focus on healing and becoming survivors too.

John Ondrasik, the man and musician behind the band Five for Fighting, has released a new album and a new website that just happens to benefit the Breast Cancer 3-Day, a 3-day, 60-mile walk sponsored by Susan G. Komen For the Cure.

Think about this:

Ondrasik's new album, "Two Lights," features a song called "World" which is in heavy rotation on pop radio stations across the country. This single is the inspiration for Ondrasik's new website, What Kind of World Do You Want -- the first video community that gives back by allowing visitors a chance to make a difference.

This is how it works: reveal what kind of world you want and help raise money for charity by watching videos or creating and uploading a video of yourself, your friends, or your family. In your video, answer the question What Kind of World Do You Want? and then choose which charity you wish to help fund.

In addition to the Breast Cancer 3-Day, selected charities include the Fisher House, Save the Children, Autism Speaks, VH1 Save the Music Foundation, and NY Police and Fire Widows & Children. Video clips describing each charity, a message from Ondrasik, and a video of the song "World," are all featured on the site.

I'm trying to keep breast cancer away. I've had it once, and I really don't want it again. So I am committing myself to all strategies for keeping the disease out of my life -- like eating right, maintaining a normal weight, not drinking, not smoking, and as of yesterday, exercising strenuously.

New research shows strenuous exercise is what it takes to minimize the risk of breast cancer. Not moderate. Strenuous.

OK, I'm on board.

Now I've been a student of moderate fitness for most of my life. But now I'm embracing this new approach, this new way of pushing my body to its near limits. I figure if my choice is cancer or strenuous exercise, I better take the route that will leave me sweating and huffing and puffing, not sick and weak and bald. And so yesterday I took my first stab at what I will try to do at least five hours per week -- what experts say it takes to make a difference.

It all started with a warm-up lap on my treadmill -- just one lap at 4.5 miles per hour. Then I upped my speed to 5.3 and ran for a mile and a half. I continued running for another half mile at 6 miles per hour and then began walking again. I started at incline 1 for one minute, then moved to incline 2 for one minute, then incline 3 for one minute, and so on until I reached incline 10. My goal was to then continue walking while decreasing the incline each minute for ten minutes -- but I was so out of breath and fatigued, I jumped the incline down to 4 for one minute, then did 3 for one minute, 2 for one minute, 1 for one minute, and then I stopped. The whole process took about 40 minutes and left me soaked with sweat and gasping for air. Then, just in case my workout wasn't strenuous enough, I did 20 push-ups, a handful of sit-ups, and a few other floor exercises before heading to the shower.

So that's my version of strenuous. Now, I don't plan to do this same exact routine for all five hours I must complete each week, but I do intend to sweat and huff and puff just as much as I did yesterday. Because if strenuous is what it takes to ward off evil cancer cells, then I'm game.

A friend of mine with breast cancer just sent out an update e-mail to friends and family. She began her message with an apology for her recent lack of communication. But she assured us all that she's been out of the loop not because she's felt sick or tired. It's because she's been too busy with normal life. And that's a good thing, she says.

This friend wasn't so sure how she would fare -- both physically and emotionally -- when she was first diagnosed with cancer. But she seems to have done a champion's job of rolling with the punches. Sure, she's had ups and downs. But she is overwhelmingly positive and hopeful. And jumping off my computer screen as I read her e-mail were at least seven bits of hope that tell me she is doing just fine despite all that is unbelievably hard about breast cancer.

My friend just had her first infusion of Taxol. A breeze, she calls it. One. So easy on her body -- two -- that she headed right out and took her daughter communion dress shopping. Her little love looked beautiful, she wrote. Like a mini-bride. The mother of the mini-bride then -- three -- turned a sad moment into a comforting one when her daughter asked, "Mommy, who do you think will bring me wedding dress shopping?"

When she asked her teenage daughters whether or not she should accept the American Cancer Society's Mother of the Year award, the response was a resounding, "Mom, of course." So Sarah Ferguson, the Duchess of York, accepted the anti-cancer honor this week and told ABC's George Stephanopolous on Sunday why she is a good mom and a healthy role model.

"They see that I go running, I get on my bicycle, I do yoga, pilates, whatever else I do," Ferguson said. "Do you know what they do? Get up off the sofa, turn the television off, walk to work, walk around the block, more vegetables, more fruits at school, less soda pops, less fast food."

Ferguson, 47, says cancer prevention starts with good role modeling -- which is exactly what she has done as mom to princesses Beatrice and Eugenie.

"I can safely say one of the best things I've done is be a good mother," Ferguson said.

Ferguson, author of memoir My Story and spokeswoman for Weight Watchers, first became known as the wife of Britain's Prince Andrew, the Duke of York. The pair divorced in 1996, but Ferguson's positive public persona has remained untarnished.

Valerie Monroe, beauty director for The Oprah Magazine, writes a monthly column -- Ask Val -- that appears on the pages of Oprah's feel-good publication. She responds to questions about make-up, skin care, hair care, and overall body care too.

In her February 2007 column, Val writes, "Many of you have written to tell me that you began to be less critical of your body when you appreciated the things it could do." As I read this, I had what Oprah would call an Aha! moment, a moment when something just clicks and makes sudden sense. Aha!, I thought, as I considered all the things my body can do, completely independent of how I look on the outside. So while I was jogging today -- my body can now easily run three miles -- I ran through all of my body's accomplishments, and I stored them in the files of my mind so I could later write them down.

Here are seven things my body can do. As you read them, consider your own body -- its strength, its power, its capacity for greatness -- and remind yourself of your wondrous self the next time you start to criticize the way you look.

• My body can partner in the creation of human life. It can carry babies and deliver them and love them and care for them and raise them. Not all bodies have this power. I am lucky.

• My body can climb an attic staircase, crawl into cramped and dark corners, pull large boxes out of wedged spaces, drag them back to the staircase, and walk backwards down the stairs with goods balancing on my head so that I can fulfill the wish my five-year-old child who wanted so badly in early November to assemble our Christmas tree and decorate our house for the holidays. "Let's wait until Daddy gets home," I told Joey when I found myself crammed into a tiny space in the attic, wrestling with a heavy box full of artificial tree parts. "You can do it, Mommy," Joey said. "You are strong." And so I fought my way through the frustrating feat because I was afraid of the lessons I would teach this little boy if I didn't. In the end, it was Joey who taught me the lesson. I can do it. I am strong.
  

• My body can endure and conquer a 5K run when it once could barely run around the block. With a little extra effort and push, I think my body can accomplish even more.

• My body, once weak and without definition, can lift increasingly heavy weight and can generate muscle tone. It can even do push-ups -- real push-ups. It takes dedication and practice and persistence and mental toughness too. But I see progress. I feel progress. And I want more.

• My body can help others. I can use my fingers to type words on a keyboard that will reach friends and family and people I don't even know. My words can inform and support and encourage and heal. I can use my hands and my semi-creative talents to create hand-made gifts, to cook and deliver very mediocre meals for friends in need, to massage my husband's sore back, to braid my niece's beautiful hair and paint her tiny nails. I can use my arms to hug my little boys with all my might. I can use my voice to communicate, my ears to listen, my senses to feel.
  

• My body can tolerate surgery and chemotherapy and radiation and horrible allergic reactions to antibiotics. My body was badly beaten by a treatment protocol intended to cure me of a disastrous disease. And somehow, in some way, it survived.
  

• My body killed cancer. With the aid of medical intervention and a hopeful attitude, my body overcame the worst and best thing that has ever happened to me. And if it could do nothing else, I would be truly happy for this one thing my body can do.
  

In space, zero gravity causes hair to increase in volume, get curly and float. A woman astronaut with long hair is encouraged to pull back their hair into a ponytail. Astronaut and Navy commander Suni Williams had a plan before she left Earth on the current space shuttle mission, to cut her hair and send the ponytail back to Earth on the Space Shuttle Discovery to be made into a wig for a cancer patient undergoing chemotherapy.

To state this woman is awe-inspiring is an understatement. In the ABC News Ponytail in Space report, when asked if she is a role model for young girls, Williams is quoted as saying, "I hope so. I wasn't always the sharpest tool in the shed, the smartest kid on the block, but I think there was a lot of persistence. And I hope kids understand it is OK to fail, if you learn something from failing. Maybe you don't get the first thing that you want, but if you are good at what you do, and you try hard, some things sort of fall into place. If you want something, you can obtain it."

I would say the courageous, determined and spirited Williams is a heroic role model for everyone, regardless of gender or age. According to the report, the smart, tall, willowy brunette with a wicked sense of humor, and zest for life was dancing to Bruce Springsteen's Born to Run before she climbed into her spacesuit for a grueling 7½-hour spacewalk on Saturday.

To view the online news video for this story, visit Space: The Haircutting Frontier.

There is no way to feel the pain of a cancer experience without having personally endured it. No doctor or nurse or researcher or scientist -- all who know the disease so well -- can adequately prepare anyone for the physical and emotional turmoil that descends upon every man, woman, and child diagnosed with this life-threatening disease. It takes the person walking in cancer shoes to paint an honest picture of life with cancer.

A comment was left on my personal breast cancer blog the other day. Although I do not know the woman who wrote to me -- or her name -- I do know what she is encountering as she begins her own walk with cancer. And here are her words -- and her sadly accurate portrayal of what it's really like to walk in cancer shoes.

I am new to the breast cancer adventure. I am 37 and was diagnosed on 10/2 and had a mastectomy on my left breast 11/13 -- my 7 year wedding anniversary. It is a roller coaster ride I am going through as you have already traveled. I am terrified!

Will the roller coaster of emotions ever slow down? I feel as though I am not able to find the positive in any of this as I read in so many stories but am dwelling on the negative. I miss my old life even though it was crazy and chaotic, but am slowly realizing it will never be the same again.

I do not know what treatment I will have until the 13th of December which is next week but seems like forever. I am working through the reconstruction and expansion portion right now which is an adventure in its own pain. I am an emotional wreck and my wonderful loving husband is taking the grunt of it all as well as my two beautiful kids -- my five-year-old little girl and two-year-old son.

Like you said my five-year-old just knows mommy is going to the doctor a lot and has a boo-boo but my 2-year-old is clueless which is nice. I just want my husband and kids to have their mom around for all the wonderful things that have yet to come but I don't want to be in this hole that I sometimes feel like I am in. Some days are great but some really, really stink.

Well, sorry to vent on you but the other thing is you feel so alone in this even though I have wonderful friends and a great husband. I don't always want to be the downer of the conversation.

Just wanted to share and let you know that your stories and blog are very helpful. Take care and my prayers are with you and your friends and families.

Photographer Paula Lerner was diagnosed with breast cancer just after beginning work on Why We Walk: The Inspirational Journey Toward a Cure for Breast Cancer -- a book that captures through photographs the momentum of millions who year after year crowd America's streets and walk to conquer this disease.

A peek into this book is offered in the form of an online slide show, hosted by the Washington Post. Set to inspiring music and lyrics and lasting just three minutes and 59 seconds, this media presentation tells a story about a disease that strikes every three minutes and kills every 14 minutes.

Gripping photographs and sobering facts dominate this powerful piece. There are shots of women in pink wigs and pink tutus, children hosing off physically and emotionally drained walkers, women holding up photographs of lost loved ones -- one with a printed message that reads, Mom, we would walk forever to bring you back. May 14, 2004. There are smiles and cheers and tears. Every image packs an emotional punch.

The facts that appear throughout the slide show really stand out. They spell out in black and white some of the most important facts about breast cancer. And here they are -- all seven of them.

• 40,970 women and 460 men will die from breast cancer annually.

• Breast cancer is the most common cancer in African American women but ranks second to lung cancer in cause of cancer deaths.

• People over the age of 50 account for 77 percent of breast cancer cases.

• Breast cancer is most commonly diagnosed among Hispanic women and is the leading cause of cancer death among this group.

• Being overweight is linked to a higher risk of breast cancer, especially after menopause.

• Risk is increased by onset of menstruation before age 12, menopause after 50, first child after 30, or no children.

• Family history of breast cancer increases risk, especially if close relatives are diagnosed before the age of 50. A first-degree relative -- mother, sister, daughter -- with breast cancer approximately doubles the risk of breast cancer.