Running the Race with Gratitude, Perseverance, Hope, and Faith – Sprint VI

Before we step into Sprint VI, I want to pause and share the sacred place where I was standing in my previous blog—one that is deeply woven into my own story. That place is Fátima, Portugal. Growing up, the church in my village was also named Fátima. As a child, I never imagined that one day I would stand at the very place that inspired its name. Visiting Fátima had quietly lived on my bucket list for years—a distant dream I never truly believed would come true. In 2024, I was blessed with the opportunity to travel on a pilgrimage with the Bishop of the Diocese of Raleigh. It was a profound 12-day journey that took us to several pilgrimage sites across Europe, but Fátima held a deeply personal significance for me. Standing there felt like a full-circle moment—faith, childhood, and calling all meeting in one sacred space.

A verse that has stayed with me throughout this diagnosis journey is Joshua 1:9: “I command you: be strong and steadfast! Do not fear nor be dismayed, for the LORD, your God, is with you wherever you go.” This verse reminds us that God often calls us into unfamiliar or difficult spaces. Even when uncertainty surrounds us, His presence gives us strength, courage, and peace.

I’m also sharing something very close to my heart—a photo from my 10th-grade class picture taken in 1991, alongside a photo from my visit in September 2025. During this visit, I was fortunate to reconnect with two friends from that picture. Good luck finding us! We missed a few others—some were out of the country, others working, or unable to make it since my visit came together quickly. Still, it was incredibly special to reconnect with Suma, my best friend from my school years, and my dear friend Vaheeda, my benchmate. They are truly kind souls, and within minutes we were laughing and slipping back into cherished memories, as if no time had passed at all. Moments like these remind me how relationships shape us—and how some bonds remain untouched by time.

For this leg of the race, I asked the women one deeply meaningful question:

“What message or advice would you offer to someone who is currently facing their own battle?”

Their responses, along with my own, are woven throughout Sprint VI and help shape this chapter of the journey.

Patti:
Your attitude is half the battle.  Go into this and work on the positive attitude to fighting it.  I focus on the aspects that I can control.  I tell people that I am managing my situation until a cure is found, hopefully in the next 5 years or so.  I tell others that a smile on your face can lighten your overall disposition.  There will be tough times, there will be times where it just feels useless – but be positive – make flash cards or post its that remind you that you can do this!  If you can find someone who either is fighting/fought or someone who cared for another who did – keep them close – they understand and they won’t pressure you. 

Jennifer:
Hang in there. Talk with others. Stay the course. Keep moving.

Do your research.

Devika:
Protect your peace! I once saw a meme that said, “I didn’t survive breast cancer to die from stress.” That really stuck with me. It’s so important to go through treatment with as little stress as possible. Find time for small moments of joy — do the little things that make you happy and help you feel like you.

Lean on your support systems. There are so many amazing resources out there — meal deliveries, free home cleanings, care packages, and local support groups that truly understand what you’re going through. You don’t have to carry it alone.

And most importantly, don’t question your journey. Every path looks different, and that’s okay. Trust that you are right where you need to be, and focus on moving forward with hope, faith, and peace.

My Response:
As I shared in my earlier blog, I didn’t receive a firm diagnosis until the end of August 2025, even though I had been undergoing tests for nearly two years. Living with uncertainty became part of my daily routine. I continued life as usual, knowing that much of this was beyond my control—and I chose not to worry excessively.

My battle isn’t over yet, so I answer this question carefully, without knowing what lies ahead. But here is what I’ve learned so far:

• Take time to process once you receive a firm diagnosis
• Do your research using reliable sources—the internet can be misleading, and one person’s experience may not be yours
• Go prepared with your own questions when meeting your surgeon or doctor
• Share your news with family, friends, and colleagues only when you are ready—it’s okay to keep things private
• Don’t absorb every piece of advice, especially from those who haven’t walked this path
• Lean on your support system when you need help
• Set boundaries to protect your peace
• Listen to your body and rest when it asks you to
• Keep your routine going as much as possible, with modifications, to avoid slipping into depression
• You don’t owe immediate responses to every message or call—respond when and to whom you feel comfortable
• Let opinions enter one ear and exit the other when they don’t serve you

Where I Am Now

I had two lumpectomy surgeries in October and began radiation treatment in early December. I’ve completed three weeks of daily radiation so far. The first two weeks were manageable, but this past week has been harder—my energy crashes by evening, which I was told to expect. I have one more week to go. Thankfully, I don’t need chemotherapy. I’ve heard about “brain freeze” from my pink sisters who have walked that road, and I’m grateful that it isn’t part of my treatment plan.

Running, jogging, or walking each morning has been my routine for over 25 years, and I’ve kept it up throughout this process. I’ve slowed down my mileage and moved indoors to the treadmill—which I don’t love—but I didn’t want to risk getting sick by running outside in the cold early mornings during radiation. Today, the weather was kinder, and I was able to jog a mile outdoors and soak in nature. It felt like a gift.

I didn’t take time off work beyond two days for surgery. I’m blessed with a supportive boss who allows me to take my lunch break for daily radiation treatments. All of these supports have made a big difference.

Your journey may look different—and that’s okay. Do what works for you. Don’t push yourself too hard. Rest when your body asks for it. I’m learning to listen more closely now.

Thank you for running Sprint VI with me. 

Up next is Sprint VII, where I’ll introduce you to a group of incredible women I met here in the U.S.—women I now consider family. Stay tuned for the story behind that circle and the role they’ve played in this journey.