“No,” I replied. “That’s not important.”

“Tt is to a woman,” she said.

Yes, she has lost her eyelashes, too. But not once has she lost her spirit.

“My kids have a lot to do with it,” said Linda. “My parents. My family. I feel there is a lot I can do to fight this thing.”

Don’t focus on the negative, that’s her philosophy. Take your problems and make them challenges.

Fighting cancer can take its toll, both physically and mentally. One of Linda’s first challenges was to regain her strength and get her life back on track. To do so, she turned to running.

“Running is a recovery thing, a medicine,” she said. “When I go for a run and come back, I’m exhilarated. I feel like I’ve accomplished something. And it feels good to have tired legs.”

Linda’s training routine started at the hospital, sandwiched between chemo treatments that left her sapped, hollowed out, and violently ill. Along with a few other hearty souls, she would climb from bed and drag her IV stand around the oncology ward.

The goal was 16 laps. One mile. A seemingly modest distance, but one that would cause most cancer patients to crumble like an old Tinker Toy fort. Some jokingly referred to it as the UCSF endurance run, a race filled with sick and bald and pasty-white athletes pushing themselves to greater distances, working out of the comfort zone.

“T’ve got 10 laps.”

“Good job. Keep going.”

“You’re doing great.”

“Did you do a mile yet?”

As always, Linda’s family was there, offering support, handing her water, pacing her every step of the way. Team Linda, she called them.

“Tt was difficult,” she admitted. “I’m not going to lie about that. It was tough just getting out of bed.”

But cancer is tougher, and Linda will do whatever it takes to beat it. The hospital workouts were just a warm-up. During her short time home, she was running on the steep trails behind her house in McKinleyville in far Northern California.

“Tt’s still a chore,” she stated. “Every day is an excuse to wimp out. It’s hard to get your breath, to get your stride.”

If it’s so hard, why bother?

“Running is good for my heart, for my strength,” she said. “I feel happy when I make myself do it. And it’s so rewarding when you’re done.” Linda knows there are no guarantees. The cancer has already gone into remission and resurfaced, Hydra-like, several times. The tumors have disappeared and reappeared, almost overnight. Battling this disease is comparable to climbing Mount Everest or win-

@ Linda Martin with her husband, Tim, and their daughter, Emily, at the finish of the Trinidad to Clam Beach Run.

ning the Tour de France. Just ask Lance Armstrong.

“During the journey, you find out things about yourself,’ said Linda. “By having this, I’ve learned to live life one day at a time and to be thankful for what I have.

“T like to think that I’ve helped others appreciate their lives, too. By watching me go through this, [hope they give thanks for their families, their jobs, and for all the little things in life. We need to be constantly reminded how wonderful we have it.”

The future is uncertain, but Linda is prepared for anything. Even when she runs, she reaches for the impossible.

“T keep striving for the euphoric feeling,” she said. “A runner’s high. I haven’t found it yet, but I’m trying to get there.”

Knowing Linda, she will one day reach that goal. Bs

Editor’s note: Linda Martin died late on the night of Tuesday, October 12, 2004, while at home with her family.

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