This week has been one of milestones and moving forward. It’s been six months since I was diagnosed, four months since surgery, and with Tuesday’s infusion behind me, I’m half way through the chemotherapy portion of my treatment plan. When my mind goes to ‘when will all this be done?’ it’s a useful frame to remember everything that has happened already. In training terms, I’ve been putting in the work. And with that work, comes a reward … of sorts 😉
When I met with my oncologist before this week’s treatment, we discussed timing between chemotherapy and radiation, and what that would look like on the calendar. We’re reasonably confident that my remaining three sessions will stay on schedule, meaning my last infusion will be on the 13 August. From there, radiation treatments need to be scheduled and it’s likely my first radiation session won’t happen before late September or even the first week of October. So I have an almost six week window to work with.
As luck would have it, the Montréal Marathon weekend is from 20-22 September, and the race lineup includes a 10k. My oncologist says there’s no reason I can’t race if I want to … within reason. I was reminded that I’ll get progressively more tired over the remaining three sessions, but since I’ve navigated these first ones with minimal fatigue, its not likely I’ll find it debilitating. And even though I’ll have more than a month between my last infusion and race day, my blood counts are not likely to have rebounded fully, so I shouldn’t plan on pushing my pace (I’m now familiar with the vaguely light-headed feeling that tells me my counts are low before even my Garmin picks up that data.)
I can work within these guidelines. Six weeks is short, but it’s long enough to build for a 10k.
The 10k is a course I like — it combines a start near the Olympic Stadium, two legs at the beginning and end through Parc Maisonneuve (where I’ve run often) and minimal road racing, so I won’t ever be far from medical support if I do want to step off the course. Even better, it’s one bus ride from my place to the race.
So now I’m getting excited. Back in the spring, I was hoping to put fall races back on my calendar after surgery. And then the pathology results seem to wipe out that possibility. But this will be a way of marking the end of chemo and the beginning of my next treatment phase. It’s all part of living this experience. I have no time goals, and with a two hour cutoff, I have plenty of space to walk the whole thing if my legs/lungs don’t cooperate on the day.
Just toeing the line to say I’ve raced once this season will feel like an accomplishment.
Postscript: Inspiration
When I was first diagnosed, I went looking for other runners who had navigated a hysterectomy. I wanted to know what returning to running would look like after surgery and there was little to nothing in the running magazines I read or podcasts that I follow. What I did discover was a few athletes who’ve shared their stories on their blogs (you can find those links over on my Resources & Reading page).
This week I’ve added a new name to that list. Michelle Hughes didn’t start out as an athlete. The mother of three, who lives in Prince Edward Island, was diagnosed in 2021 with Stage 4 incurable EHE sarcoma. We don’t share the same diagnosis, but her philosophy of living out loud while navigating her cancer journey resonates deeply with me.
Michelle started with running, and this year has learned to bike and to swim in order to accomplish a goal — she recently completed her first triathlon.
I dare you not to cry happy tears with her as she shares this exchange with her husband on the course.
Running from hysteria 
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