By: Lynann Bradbury

March 8, 2011

I waited 12 years to hear three magic words: "You're cancer free." But as my world opened up, the bottom dropped out when my husband added three of his own: "I'm leaving you." Devastated, I needed to do something to signify my life was moving forward. For the first half of the San Diego Rock-n-Roll marathon, I took it all in: A rock band every mile, endless squads of high school cheerleaders, 22,000 runners, four thousand of us in purple jerseys, representing the Leukemia & Lymphoma Society's Team In Training.

It was a sea of people from the start, Kenyans in front. Sixteen "corrals" separated them from my start time. They could have run it twice and still beat me. I'd never run more than a 10k. But today I was running in honor of 13 people who'd battled cancer, led by my beloved aunt who died two months earlier.

At mile 13, "Pimp Daddy" cut in front of me, shaved head, black socks, pictures of kids on his back. Most runners print their names on the front; not this guy. He was Hulk Hogan in a tank top. Never met the guy, but it didn't matter. We were all in this together.

For the full article please visit: http://www.more.com/health/wellness/my-first-marathon-44