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Exercising and surviving: My cancer journey
Urologic Oncology: Seminars and Original Investigations 26 (2008) 215–216
Seminar article
Exercising and surviving: My cancer journey Sarah Gordon* The Ulman Cancer Fund for Young Adults, Ellicott City, MD 21042, USA
Abstract Sarah Gordon is the Endurance Program Manager at the Ulman Cancer Fund for Young Adults. She founded Run for the Rare, an annual 5 k race held in Chicago, and the Run·Tri Together program of the Ulman Cancer Fund. She is a 4-year young adult cancer survivor, diagnosed with malignant fibrous histiocytoma. As a young adult cancer survivor, the phase “mind over matter” has taken on a whole new meaning for me. In January of 2003, I was diagnosed with a rare sarcoma, and learned soon after that second opinions, hope, and optimism are intangibles on which you cannot put a price tag. Since my diagnosis, I have put my heart and soul into rehabilitation. Initially, the fear of never being able to run again made me determined to make my right leg perform as it did prior to surgery. Today, after training for and completing a marathon, 3 half-marathons, and 2 triathlons, I am able to accept the fact that my leg will never be the same at it was before cancer, neither will I, and this is alright. © 2008 Published by Elsevier Inc. Keywords: Cancer; Exercise; Young adult; Survival
Introduction First, I heard that I had cancer. Then I heard I was never going to be able to run or bike again. To save my life, my surgeons would need to remove the tumor and surrounding tissue. I would lose both my gluteus maximus and minimus. At the age of 21— young, active, and healthy—this prediction was more difficult for me to digest. While death was always a possibility, I didn’t allow it to be a dictator of my experience; I went into the fight with the attitude that I would beat it. Once I decided that, there was no turning back. I entered rehabilitation with a vision of running in another race. The pain I would endure in my hour-long physical therapy sessions was a mile marker of progress to me, similar to a hard workout measured by one’s own perspiration. I thrived on the energy of feeling like I had a challenging PT session. The two surgeries and radiation that followed left me with a short range of mobility and limited flexibility in my right leg and I was determined to get regain these. Months went by. I pushed and pushed but my right leg’s range of motion refused to change. My health insurance company reviewed the measure* Corresponding contact. Tel.: ⫹1-410-964-0202 ext. 102; fax: ⫹1410-964-0402. E-mail address: [email protected] (E. Saylor). 1078-1439/08/$ – see front matter © 2008 Published by Elsevier Inc. doi:10.1016/j.urolonc.2007.10.008
ments and stopped payment as a result of those numbers. They gave up; after all it was not their leg. That wouldn’t stop me. Day in and day out, I would engage in the same exercise routine I learned at physical therapy. I allowed only a short time to pass before I would set out on my road bike. With every push and pull of the pedals, my face would clench as I tried not to focus too much on the pain. The bike-body connection I once had seemed to have disappeared. But I rode again. From that day forward I would run or ride for a short period of time each day. I also spent months organizing Run for the Rare, a 5 k run/walk that would benefit the Ulman Cancer Fund for Young Adults. I knew I wanted to run it before the actual race day. I tied my laces and walked to the freshly spray-painted start line. My heart palpitated as my dreams of running again and putting on a race to benefit cancer collided. My feet pounded the pavement and I was off. The finish line was a moment of triumph. Tears rolled down my face as I raised my arms high. The grim realities of a cancer diagnosis are no match to enduring spirit and the grace of God. I did it! And I would do it again. Exercise has been a key part of my cancer survivorship. That moment of triumph gave me a colorful reminder of how I wanted to live my life post-treatment. I was eager and excited to intertwine my passion for endurance sports with my new life lessons. I wanted to create a world of peers helping peers. A world in which healthy young adults stand
216
S. Gordon / Urologic Oncology: Seminars and Original Investigations 26 (2008) 215–216
up and advocate for their peers battling cancer. I thought there would be no better way to do it then by encouraging active young adults to unite for a personal challenge that would not only better them but better their young adult peers. Those visions led me to my current work. I founded and now manage the Run·Tri Program. The program is a marriage of health/fitness and young adult cancer advocacy. I use sport as a platform to actively encourage healthy young adults to unite as a centralized demographic and advocate
on behalf of their peers battling cancer. The program is a win-win situation coupling a personal fitness challenge and philanthropy. Exercise allowed me to enter the survivorship stage and see past the statistics, the words, and the forecasts. One physician told me I would never be able to run again, the second was more hopeful. Not only am I on the roads running but I recently completed my first full marathon. With a cancer-free mind anything is possible.
Seminar article
Exercising and surviving: My cancer journey Sarah Gordon* The Ulman Cancer Fund for Young Adults, Ellicott City, MD 21042, USA
Abstract Sarah Gordon is the Endurance Program Manager at the Ulman Cancer Fund for Young Adults. She founded Run for the Rare, an annual 5 k race held in Chicago, and the Run·Tri Together program of the Ulman Cancer Fund. She is a 4-year young adult cancer survivor, diagnosed with malignant fibrous histiocytoma. As a young adult cancer survivor, the phase “mind over matter” has taken on a whole new meaning for me. In January of 2003, I was diagnosed with a rare sarcoma, and learned soon after that second opinions, hope, and optimism are intangibles on which you cannot put a price tag. Since my diagnosis, I have put my heart and soul into rehabilitation. Initially, the fear of never being able to run again made me determined to make my right leg perform as it did prior to surgery. Today, after training for and completing a marathon, 3 half-marathons, and 2 triathlons, I am able to accept the fact that my leg will never be the same at it was before cancer, neither will I, and this is alright. © 2008 Published by Elsevier Inc. Keywords: Cancer; Exercise; Young adult; Survival
Introduction First, I heard that I had cancer. Then I heard I was never going to be able to run or bike again. To save my life, my surgeons would need to remove the tumor and surrounding tissue. I would lose both my gluteus maximus and minimus. At the age of 21— young, active, and healthy—this prediction was more difficult for me to digest. While death was always a possibility, I didn’t allow it to be a dictator of my experience; I went into the fight with the attitude that I would beat it. Once I decided that, there was no turning back. I entered rehabilitation with a vision of running in another race. The pain I would endure in my hour-long physical therapy sessions was a mile marker of progress to me, similar to a hard workout measured by one’s own perspiration. I thrived on the energy of feeling like I had a challenging PT session. The two surgeries and radiation that followed left me with a short range of mobility and limited flexibility in my right leg and I was determined to get regain these. Months went by. I pushed and pushed but my right leg’s range of motion refused to change. My health insurance company reviewed the measure* Corresponding contact. Tel.: ⫹1-410-964-0202 ext. 102; fax: ⫹1410-964-0402. E-mail address: [email protected] (E. Saylor). 1078-1439/08/$ – see front matter © 2008 Published by Elsevier Inc. doi:10.1016/j.urolonc.2007.10.008
ments and stopped payment as a result of those numbers. They gave up; after all it was not their leg. That wouldn’t stop me. Day in and day out, I would engage in the same exercise routine I learned at physical therapy. I allowed only a short time to pass before I would set out on my road bike. With every push and pull of the pedals, my face would clench as I tried not to focus too much on the pain. The bike-body connection I once had seemed to have disappeared. But I rode again. From that day forward I would run or ride for a short period of time each day. I also spent months organizing Run for the Rare, a 5 k run/walk that would benefit the Ulman Cancer Fund for Young Adults. I knew I wanted to run it before the actual race day. I tied my laces and walked to the freshly spray-painted start line. My heart palpitated as my dreams of running again and putting on a race to benefit cancer collided. My feet pounded the pavement and I was off. The finish line was a moment of triumph. Tears rolled down my face as I raised my arms high. The grim realities of a cancer diagnosis are no match to enduring spirit and the grace of God. I did it! And I would do it again. Exercise has been a key part of my cancer survivorship. That moment of triumph gave me a colorful reminder of how I wanted to live my life post-treatment. I was eager and excited to intertwine my passion for endurance sports with my new life lessons. I wanted to create a world of peers helping peers. A world in which healthy young adults stand
216
S. Gordon / Urologic Oncology: Seminars and Original Investigations 26 (2008) 215–216
up and advocate for their peers battling cancer. I thought there would be no better way to do it then by encouraging active young adults to unite for a personal challenge that would not only better them but better their young adult peers. Those visions led me to my current work. I founded and now manage the Run·Tri Program. The program is a marriage of health/fitness and young adult cancer advocacy. I use sport as a platform to actively encourage healthy young adults to unite as a centralized demographic and advocate
on behalf of their peers battling cancer. The program is a win-win situation coupling a personal fitness challenge and philanthropy. Exercise allowed me to enter the survivorship stage and see past the statistics, the words, and the forecasts. One physician told me I would never be able to run again, the second was more hopeful. Not only am I on the roads running but I recently completed my first full marathon. With a cancer-free mind anything is possible.