Melissa Vogan

In Honor of Diane Corjulo 💜

My family lost Diane Corjulo, my aunt and godmother, to early-onset Alzheimer’s on January 14th, 2026. The year so far has been defined by grief, but I find myself asking—why run 26.2 miles distance about it? Sure, the New York City Marathon has been a distant bucket-list dream of mine, but I could literally do anything else to honor Di. What makes me think I can do this at all?

I think about the weekends I’ll sacrifice to long runs; then I think about all the weekends my mom sacrificed over Di’s eight-year illness, arranging her life around caring for her sister and soul best friend. If my mom can do that, I can do this. 

I think about the bad runs I’ll go on, when I’ll wish I were anywhere else; then I think about my uncle Mike, Di’s husband and primary caregiver and greatest love, who took the brunt of the bad days and persevered through them all, turning lemons into lemonade when all he wanted was his wife back. If he can survive that, I can survive this. 

I think about seeing my loved ones along the course, hearing their encouragement when I think I can’t take another step; then I think about Di’s last hours, her village surrounding her, laughing and telling stories and lying down on her bed, so she could leave this world with a fraction of the love she brought into it. If we could show up for that, I can show up for this.

I think about all the beautiful moments I could have along this road; then I think about all the beautiful moments I got with my aunt Di, my godmother, a second mom, an earnest listener, the best hostess, the most amazing friend, who thought I could do anything and cheered me on in everything. If she could believe in me, I can believe in myself.

The New York City Marathon will be on November 1st, 2026, exactly one week before what should have been Aunt Di’s 65th birthday. I don’t have to run 26.2 miles to honor her life. But what a privilege it is to choose my hard, when there was so much hard we didn’t choose. What a reminder that the journey through Alzheimer’s is no sprint, but we can take comfort in love and family and moments of joy along the way. What an opportunity to make some lemonade. I’m honored to be part of it.