If you’ve ever found yourself thrown into something you never asked for — something that demanded every ounce of strength you didn’t know you had — then you already understand what a chemotherapy journey feels like. It’s the race I never trained for, never signed up for, and never imagined I’d be running.
When I was diagnosed with Ductal carcinoma in situ (DCIS) in October 2025, I thought I understood the road ahead. Surgery, recovery, and then back to normal life. But cancer reveals itself in layers, and each new pathology report shifted the ground beneath me. By January 2026, I learned I’d need four rounds of TC chemotherapy followed by radiation. It was more than I expected, yet somehow I kept moving forward.
In this post, I want to share how my chemotherapy journey has mirrored the rhythm, mindset, and emotional arc of running a race — the race I never wanted, but the one that’s teaching me more about strength than any finish line ever has.
If you’re walking a similar path, the beginning might feel like a deep exhale.
👉 Start here:
How My Chemotherapy Journey Began
Receiving My Diagnosis in Pieces
Looking back, I’m grateful that my diagnosis came in stages. First DCIS. Then surgery. Then the discovery of invasive cancer in my lymph node. Each piece gave me time to process without being crushed by the full picture all at once.
Read more about my mastectomy experience and recovery 👇
Preparing for Treatment Like Training for a Race
Before cancer, I was a runner. I knew what it meant to prepare — to train, hydrate, fuel, and gather the right gear. Beginning chemo felt strangely similar. I met with a dietitian, stocked my fridge with nutrient‑dense foods, and built my own “chemo success bag” filled with comfort items and practical tools.
If you’re preparing for chemotherapy, grab my free guide here 👇
Self-Care Items to Thrive from Chemotherapy Through Recovery
Chemo Is the Race I Never Wanted to Run
The Starting Line: Anticipation and Fear
Just like waiting for the gun to go off at the start of a race, the moments before my first infusion were electric. My body buzzed with nerves and uncertainty. I didn’t know how I’d feel, how sick I’d get, or how my life would change. I only knew I had to show up.
The Middle Miles: Doubt, Exhaustion, and the “Holy Shit” Moment
Every runner knows the moment when your brain screams, “Why am I doing this?” The negative thoughts creep in – “this sucks, I don’t want to do this anymore, why do I do this to myself?” Chemo has that moment too — mine hit during rounds two and three.
I was exhausted. My emotions were unpredictable. My weight changed from inactivity and medication. My hair thinned until I finally shaved it off.
BE BOLD. BE BEAUTIFUL. BE BALD.
It was terrifying and freeing all at once.
Finding Confidence in a New Identity
Learning to Love My Bald Head
When I shaved my head, my husband immediately told me how much more my smile stood out. Without hair to distract, he said my joy was the first thing he noticed. His support softened the shock of seeing myself in the mirror.
Now when I walk into a room, I try to remember that. I smile big. I let confidence lead. And I remind myself that the people who matter love me — hair or no hair.
The Unexpected Perks of Being Bald
Honestly? Being bald is kind of amazing. No washing. No drying. No styling. No hair ties. No fuss.
It’s wild how much time women spend managing hair. No wonder men run the world — they have HOURS of extra time every week. And don’t even get me started on bras, Spanx, or underwear digging into places they shouldn’t. But that’s a rant for another day.
The Power of Community During Treatment
Support Groups as the Cheer Squad
During a race, runners cheer each other on — strangers offering encouragement when you need it most. My cancer support group has been that for me. We show up for each other. We celebrate the wins. We cry through the setbacks. We share wisdom that only someone on a chemotherapy journey can understand.
Hospital Resources That Helped Me
At Fred Hutch Cancer Center, they understand that a cancer journey is about so much more than treating the disease itself. Their supportive care team works right alongside your medical providers to help you through every part of treatment — whether you need help managing pain, staying nourished, building strength and balance, or finding emotional support when things feel heavy.
“The Hutch” offered emotional support, nutrition guidance, social workers, and group sessions. These resources lifted my spirits and helped me feel less alone. If you’re going through treatment, ask your treatment facility or hospital what support is available — it can make all the difference.
Approaching the Finish Line of My Chemotherapy Journey
The Chemo High: Realizing I’m Almost Done
There’s a moment in every race when you realize you’re going to finish. Finally, you get the ‘high’. The holy grail of all runners. Crank that fat beat, and I’m practically dancing to the finish line.
Your body is tired, but your spirit surges. That’s how I felt approaching round four. I felt like a badass. I was doing it. I was almost done.
The Final Push: Gratitude and Strength
The messages, prayers, and support from friends and family carried me through the hardest days. Just like the cheering crowds near a finish line, their love gave me strength when I needed it most.
Crossing the Finish Line With Strength and Hope
As I complete my final round of chemo, I feel proud of the woman who showed up for herself again and again. My strong body carried me through this chemotherapy journey, just like it carried me through every race I’ve ever run.
Every morning, I started with gratitude: “Thank you for another day to live.” I made time for joy, for hobbies, for friends. I walked my dog. I breathed in the spring air. I reminded myself that spring always brings new beginnings.
And now, so do I – look forward to a new beginning.
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