Kati's memory had been slipping. And her strength was mostly gone. Doctors were doing everything they could. And still the weak little girl kept talking about running, of all things.

It was near the end of 2000 when the Fisher family had first learned about Team in Training. Officials with the program approached Kati and asked her to be an honorary teammate. Team in Training is an organization that runs in marathons around the country, finding sponsors that will donate money to the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society. They wanted Kati to help put a face on the disease and encourage sponsors to open their checkbooks.

Kati had never run a race, but she fell in love with Team in Training. She liked the mission, the people and their enthusiasm for battling her disease.

The folks at the Make-a-Wish Foundation asked Kati what she wanted more than anything. She didn't even consider visiting Walt Disney World, meeting a celebrity or watching a rock concert. Kati wanted to go to California to cheer on Team in Training at the San Diego Rock 'n' Roll Marathon.
 

Dad, I can do this," she told her father. "I can run a marathon."

"Well, OK, but you realize ..." he started.

"No, I'm serious. I can do it."

Kati did some research and learned that she needed to be 16 years old to run the marathon. That meant June 2006. Still years away, Kati went to school counselors to make sure she could miss class. That's how serious she was.

In the meantime, she wanted to be around runners as much as possible. When his daughter became set on her dream, Richard Fisher opened a running store in Glen Burnie.

"Oh, no!" she told him one day, sitting in the shop and flipping through a running magazine. "Rhode Island has dropped their marathon. How am I going to do one in all 50 states if Rhode Island doesn't have one?"

Before the 2004 championships, the Meissners bought a stuffed teddy bear, and Kimmie put a special hat in a bag. She had made sure to get all of the top figure skaters to sign it, skating celebs like Michelle Kwan and Sasha Cohen. When they walked through the doors on the eighth floor of the Oncology Unit, Kimmie went right over to Kati and sidled up next to her on the bed.

"It was like they were old friends," says Judy Meissner, Kimmie's mother.

The two girls rattled on -- boys, school, skating. Kati would make jokes about her bald head. Kimmie's giggle bounced off the hospital room walls.

"Both of us like to laugh," Kimmie says, "so that's what we did."

Others had passed through the hospital before, but Kimmie was the one who really touched Kati.

And a funny thing happened. Kimmie was touched, too.

The parents looked on in amazement. One girl was stuck in bed, a web of wires, tubes and needles keeping her alive. The other was boundless energy, a girl who could effortlessly fly around an ice rink as though a puppeteer were pulling strings high above.

"It was just incredible," says Richard Fisher. "There are all these things separating these two girls, things that set them apart from each other. But none of that changed who either one was on the inside."

Kimmie told her parents how inspiring Kati was. It would help her skate. And Kati told her father how inspiring Kimmie was. It would help her fight.

There would be more phone calls and more visits, of course. Kati would talk openly about her health. Before she'd hang up, Kimmie would make sure Kati would stay healthy enough for the next phone call and for the next visit.

In early March 2004, Kati's condition took a turn for the worse. She made her father promise that even if she couldn't run in that San Diego marathon, he'd push her in a wheelchair.

"Of course I will," he said.

There was a lung infection and a medical coma. The young girl was unresponsive, but her father was still hearing her voice. "You know, Dad, I've lived a pretty full life," she said one time. "I may not have been everywhere, but I've felt everything."

In the early morning, on March 31, 2004, Kati Fisher lost her battle. Richard Fisher went home to talk with his other daughter, Sara. Several weeks before, Kati had confided a secret to her sister. She'd written a couple of letters. Kati hid them in a secret journal and made Sara promise to wait before reading them.

So that morning, just a few hours after he lost his daughter, Fisher heard from her one last time. Kati told him that she loved him, and she asked him to take care of her sister. And, at the end, Kati asked her dad to "never stop fighting to find a cure."

Later in the day, after Kimmie had finished school and finished skating, her mom broke the news. Kimmie started crying. She said life was unfair. She begged for one last chance to talk with her friend.

"I never really thought that she wouldn't make it," Kimmie says. "She was getting better, and I thought she would be all right."

On April 4, 2004, more than 400 people gathered for Kati's celebration of life ceremony. Kimmie was there with eyes full of tears. Inside, her emotions were chasing each other in circles. She felt guilt.

"I don't know why my life took this path and hers took that path," she told her mother. "We're both the same age and she went that way, and I'm going this way. Why?"

Nearly two years have passed, and the two dreams are still very much alive. Kati's big race is just a couple of months away. Her father is planning to run in June on behalf of his daughter. So are 75 others. Each one is seeking pledges, continuing the fight.

Cancer "gave her a different outlook," Kati's father says. "She'd always say, 'Everybody has problems. Cancer just happens to be mine.' I like to tell people that she loved her life more than she hated her circumstances."

A few weeks ago, Richard Fisher scribbled out a note and mailed it to the Meissners in Bel Air. Kimmie had just finished up at the U.S. championships, where she took second place and earned a spot on the Olympic team. Her dream was coming true.

Kimmie got the letter a couple of days later. She opened it and began crying. Kati's father wished Kimmie good luck in Turin. He told Kimmie that he'd be thinking of her and that there would be an angel above watching her skate.

"I don't understand what God or what fate brought them together," says Judy Meissner, "I hope that in some way, it brought a little bit of happiness to Kati. ... I just know that for our child, this changed her life in a way I can't explain. I know that they were brought together for a purpose."

Kimmie immediately hung Fisher's note on the wall above her bed. "I always think about Kati if I'm down or something," Kimmie says. "It helps me. She had such a great approach to life."

Next to the note on her bedroom wall, a picture hangs. The friends are forever seated on a hospital bed, two young girls, two smiles and two dreams.

Tribute to Kati

Richard Fisher and 75 others will be running in the San Diego Rock 'n' Roll Marathon on behalf of his daughter, Kati Fisher, in June. The runners are hoping to raise at least $250,000. The money benefits the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society. For information about Team in Training, visit www.teamintraining.org.