COEUR d'ALENE - Laura Narolski was always what her friends called the picture of health.

The 5-2 brunette was a dance major in college. She played tennis. She ran, biked and swam, completing a triathlon and the duathlon along the way.

Early this year, she was training for her first half-marathon.

The 43-year-old was fit, fast and determined.

"I was in the best shape of my life," the Coeur d'Alene woman said, smiling.

On March 1, Narolski was diagnosed with breast cancer.

"My life changed," she said. "It probably goes down as one of the worst days of your life."

It was a stunner.

There is no history of cancer in her family.

"It came completely out of nowhere," she said.

She found her own cancer, she said, which was then confirmed by an ultrasound.

Doctors later found two tumors, and worst, learned the cancer had spread to her lymph nodes. An MRI also found a "bright spot" on her sternum. Though a biopsy was inconclusive, bone cancer has been ruled out.

"A mammogram failed me," Narolski said. "Luckily, I was aware of my own body, which is one of my greatest messages."

Also among her messages to others with cancer is this: Fight. Don't give up. Never lose hope. That was her resolve more than eight months ago, and after four rounds of chemotherapy, after losing her hair, after enduring untold "bad days," it hasn't changed.

"When I was first diagnosed with cancer, I didn't understand why I was called out for this. It did not make any sense," she said.

So she dug in. She vowed to be a leader, a role model, a fighter, for her friends, her family, for those facing the same disease. She is determined not to let it overcome her emotionally, mentally, physically.

"Cancer was not going to get me. I'm here, I'm in the ring, I'm going to do it," Narolski said. "I took the fighter stance from the very beginning."

It is that attitude she'll take to the starting line of the Susan G. Komen Race for the Cure on Sunday morning at North Idaho College, despite undergoing chemotherapy this week.

"I know I can do three miles. Four days post chemo might be a little more challenging," she said, chuckling.

Rather than stop running to rest more since her diagnosis, she has continued training, four days a week, 3-5 miles a day, usually on the Centennial Trail or around the neighborhood near her Canfield Mountain home.

"I try to base it on how I feel that day and not to overtax myself. I've been told if you feel good, and you know your body, go ahead and do it," Narolski said.

She admits she was nervous about continuing with her running because she didn't know how it might affect her immune system, particularly if she was tired or it was a hot day.

Still, she slipped on her Asics and stepped out the front door.

There are good days when she has a spring to her step. There are bad days when a mile seems like a marathon.

"It was something I needed to do in order to feel I had some control left in my life," she said. "My mental health through all this was to keep up with my running. It was my way of talking to myself and working my way through this, coming up with new mantras all the time."

The daughter of Don and Anny Lemke of Coeur d'Alene has pledged to "push through" rather than back down.

"When I'm out there running. It's push. It's push through this. I can do this," she said. "Women did it before me. And I can do this - inspire people to not give in, not give up."

Her attitude doesn't surprise those who know her.

Carrie Magnuson said Narolski, her best friend, amazes her.

"She literally, just every single time, inspires me, she humbles me," Magnuson said.

Magnuson earlier threw a "pink" party for Narolski attended by about 50 people. It was then they presented her with a "survivor" rock she is never without.

"Mentally, this is her own marathon," the Bellingham, Wash., resident said. "She's going to cross the finish line on the other side, surviving."

"She does use her running as a means, too," Magnuson continued. "It's kind of her own litmus test of being able to get through this."

Narolski, who has been married to husband Steve 15 years, updates her Facebook page and blogs frequently to keep friends aware of her condition. She encourages people to run, walk or just show up and cheer others on in Sunday's race.

"Ironically, the first race I ever entered was the Race for the Cure in 2006," she said, smiling.

Narolski, a mother of Jillian, 19, and Tim, 13, works in Internet advertising sales from home. She said support and attitude are everything. Humor really helps, too, she said, especially knowing that radiation treatments are scheduled to start in November.

When her long, curly light brown hair fell out due to chemotherapy, she joked about it.

"I didn't have to worry about bad hair days anymore," she said, laughing.

Despite her confidence and gregarious nature, she admits she is scared.

"There's always that scare. Cancer is a scary word. It's a scary disease. There's never a guarantee. It can always come back."

But cancer, she said, isn't all bad. Really, she said it.

"It brings good things you don't expect. It brings new people into your life you never would have met otherwise, it brings a new perspective on life and what you want to do with your life. It brings real love into your life that you appreciate more, and it brings a strength. It brings a definite strength that this is very tough, but it's beatable, it's doable," she said. "You just push through it. Every day, you push through it."

Magnuson believes in her best friend. Despite being hundreds of miles apart, their bond holds firm.

"You find a way to hold hands no matter what," she said.

And if anyone can take on cancer and win, she said, it's Laura Narolski.

"She's a beautiful lady."