Kathryn shows her medal at the Disney Princess Half Marathon.
Running has been so tightly entwined with my breast cancer experience. I was a new runner when I got the diagnosis, and running has been my constant therapist.
Never in my life have I run anywhere that did not culminate in boarding a bus or arriving late for class. No speed or endurance whatsoever, not fun, picked last for teams, etc. But after a hand injury that turned my life upside down, I had nothing else to do, so I started off with a 700-metre 20-minute “run.” Following that with a bit of experimentation, I learned that pace was everything. I used a running app to avoid going too fast, and in six months had worked up to a 10k. Quite impressed with myself, I set my sights on the Disney Princess Half Marathon 2010 as the culmination of this turnaround of my sedentary ways.
As I was packing my suitcase for the trip, my husband nonchalantly mentioned the hospital called to say they wanted me back to “redo” my mammogram the next week. As survivors know, that would be the magnified view mammogram appointment at the top of this slippery slope we come to know so well.
I managed to put the ominous recall to the back of my mind and focus on the run, had a spectacular experience, and finished upright and smiling. (Fast, pfft. No, but who cares?) Even developing an IT band injury couldn’t tarnish my tiara medal.
When I got home, I had the magnified view mammogram (look! tiny specks!) and then the stereo biopsy (“probably” perhaps showed signs that it might become DCIS!) Had it been invasive, I like to think that I would have acted immediately but I was beyond a healthy state of stress and I wanted to spend a couple of months shedding some of that stress, getting fitter for anaesthesia and recovery, and reclaim a sense of control. As part of that, I was keen to do the Disneyland Half Marathon (DLHM). The surgeon reassured me that there was no rush and we agreed on a surgery date. The DLHM was such an emotional experience and I crossed the finish line in tears. I think the drive to “survive and prevail” meant more than just running 13.1k.
Kathryn crossing the finish line!
I surrendered to the lumpectomy only to find the DCIS was by then extensive with negligible margins and had changed from ambiguous to high grade. DCIS might be cancer that is still working in the mailroom, but I was sensing that it had management ambitions. I asked for a mastectomy, where additional DCIS in the pathology report validated my instinct that it would be the right choice for me. I started with a 60-minute walk at three weeks, as soon as the incision was healed. Immediately my physical aches and pains reduced! It took my mind off the past threat and the decisions still lying ahead: prophylactic surgery, reconstruction, and all of those things. Ten weeks after my mastectomy, I was at the finish line of the Princess Half Marathon 2011. I returned to the Disneyland Half in 2011 to focus on ongoing fitness, and am looking forward to my next half marathon to pull me out of the next treatment.
I’ve never had a “why me?” moment in this journey. It has to be someone. For all the percentages bandied around about what percentage of lumps or abnormal mammograms are up to no good, what percentage of cases will have particularly serious outcomes, etc., each individual person is either 0 per cent a breast cancer case or 100 per cent a breast cancer case. Why would it not be me? More important is how am I going to cope with it? What will I do to manage my health and my emotions?
Running has been the number one best thing I have done to survive this unnerving experience, possibly for the physical benefit, but absolutely for how it focuses my head and gives me back a sense of controlling something physical. The endurance of running is so metaphorical. I’m so grateful for it. We could bowl for the cure, knit for the cure, or play bridge for the cure, but to me, running is a perfect way to celebrate the pursuit of ways to improve education, prevention, and yes, the cure.