Running was the healing power that helped me get through my Invasive Ductal Carcinoma Stage IIB breast cancer diagnosis in 2017. The undesirable invitation into an uncomfortable place; filled with fear, adversities, and pain.
I had no choice but to traumatize my own body to fight to survive breast cancer. I was forced out of my comfort zone; to be torn apart and put back together. I discovered truth, strength, and resilience through running when I accepted the invitation.
I remember in my childhood years that I hated running. I saw it as a punishment in gym class, and I would walk the one-mile loop, not run. I did one field hockey season in high school because I didn’t like running. Then at the age of 40, something changed. It was like I had the switch button on “off,” then one day decided to turn it “on” to see what would happen.
Married with two children, I had lost my identity. I had lost my self-worth and had gained weight quickly. When my husband told me, “You walk like a penguin and need to lose weight,” I was determined to change. I found that running was my alone time to clear my head. It helped me to refocus on myself and prioritize self-care.
Three years later, at the age of 43, I was diagnosed with breast cancer. It started when I found a lump in my left breast while doing a routine self-exam in the shower. I wasn’t concerned, especially with not having any family history of breast cancer. A few months passed, and the lump grew more prominent. I decided to contact my primary care physician. She immediately had me schedule my first mammogram. Then followed up with an ultrasound and biopsy to confirm. It was cancer. I was an emotional mess. The one constant thing that helped me get through it was running.
Running for Breast Cancer
Despite my diagnosis, or rather because of, I registered to run my first race, the Baltimore 5K. Six weeks before the race, I had my surgery, a single mastectomy of my left breast with a temporary tissue expander. I was so angry and determined to run that race. After five weeks of recovery, I was cleared with only one week left to train. I did it—one minute behind per mile of my targeted pace to complete the race.
I decided not to do chemo and moved on to radiation. Radiation made me extremely exhausted. I felt like my head was in a continuous fog that would never end, and the burning sensation against my skin was driving me crazy. I continued to run after each appointment. Some days when I couldn’t run, I would walk. Other days it felt like I was crawling.
As long as I moved, it helped me to stay sane. My mantra through this time came from Martin Luther King, Jr., “If you can’t fly then run, if you can’t run then walk, if you can’t walk then crawl, but whatever you do, you have to keep moving forward.”
One year after radiation, I had my DIEP Flap reconstruction surgery and revision surgery. During recovery, I would walk until I was cleared to run. When I had completed all necessary surgeries, I felt relieved and thought I would be joyful that it was over. But it wasn’t. I was given Tamoxifen, the oldest and most-prescribed medicine, a selective estrogen receptor modulator that treats hormone-receptor-positive early-stage breast cancer. This medication is used after surgery, chemotherapy, and radiation to reduce the risk of cancer coming back. I started taking it in January 2018.
I had two consistent side effects from Tamoxifen. Hot flashes were the first. (I hadn’t even reached menopause yet). I sweated a lot when I exercised, and the hot flashes made the sweating worse. The other side effect was increased depression. Although I struggled with depression since I was 23, the Tamoxifen made my depression even more severe. I took the antidepressant Effexor, which was also used to reduce hot flashes’ intensity.
Life after breast cancer is dealing with the fear and anxiety of recurrence. It can really play mind games with you. Running helps balance the emotional roller coaster. At this time, I decided I needed a goal to focus on to stay consistent with my running and keep my depression under control. I registered for the United Airlines NYC Half Marathon through the Breast Cancer Research Foundation to fundraise $1500 for breast cancer research. Although the race was canceled due to the COVID-19 pandemic, I still ran the 13.1 miles at the National Mall in Washington D.C. on race day, March 15, 2020.
Knowing my body could heal and bounce back quickly, I decided to push the boundaries and run a marathon. I asked the Breast Cancer Research Foundation to join the team again to fundraise $3000 and race the 50th Anniversary TCS NYC Marathon on November 7, 2021. The training was hard, fundraising was harder, but I did it. My goal was to complete the marathon in 4 hours and 30 minutes. The actual time was 5 hours and 52 minutes, and that’s okay. When I crossed the finish line, I truly felt I beat cancer. I have yet to engrave my medal to say, “Fuck you cancer, I won.”
I believe running saved me physically, mentally, and spiritually. I believe it helped prepare my body for the trauma endured by breast cancer. I believe it helped me not to have infections or complications from all surgeries and radiation treatments. I believe it prevented me from having any underlying health issues. Most importantly, running helped me manage my depression.
I am grateful that breast cancer kept me on my toes and reminded me to show up every day for myself through running.
