I could start from the start. August 18, 2008. The first time I heard the words, "Your daughter has cancer."
But where's the fun in that? Instead, let's start smack-dab in the middle.
In the middle of this charmed life with my red-heads - an amazing husband, a hilarious five year old son, and, of course, my daughter and cancer-fighting hero.
In the middle of training for my second half marathon, just a couple of months after completing my first full.
In the middle of trying to balance parenting, work, and many miles on the pavement.
In the middle of an ongoing fight with insomnia and a new passion for Bikram's yoga.
Let's start right here, at 2:57 AM on a rainy Sunday morning. Where we've sailed past Surviving and are moving on to Thriving. Wide awake and ready to run 12 miles in about 4 hours.
After all, this is more than just a memoir of my daughter kicking cancer's ass. But don't worry. We'll come back to that.