Soooo, what's new with you?

Totally uneventful couple weeks over here. Nothing really to report.

Another day, another doctor, another gown that refuses to stay closed!

So.

Now you know why I haven’t been writing here much.

It’s one thing to keep putting out podcast episodes and having fun conversations with runners when your whole world is in a tornado-y tailspin.

It’s another to write about your own life and update people on the latest and greatest in your personal orbit.

I kept trying. Every Thursday night, I sat down with my laptop, trying to think of things to say before I finally told you the only thing I needed to say but wasn’t ready to say.

Which is, of course: I have breast cancer. (Bilateral invasive ductal carcinoma, specifically.)

I don’t think I’ve said it out loud more than five times.

The day I got my diagnosis — May 19, 2023 — I immediately went into action mode. I called doctors, hospitals, and my insurance company, many times over. After the initial “last name, first name, date of birth?” the next question was always, “What’s your diagnosis?”

And it was so hard for me to say.

“Um… breast cancer?”

I always replied meekly. And you know me. I don’t really do “meek.”

Since May 19, I’ve had to say a lot of things I never wanted to say. I’ve had to meet people — surgical oncologists, medical oncologists, plastic surgeons, radiologists — that I wish I didn’t know existed. No shade to them. They’re cool or whatever. But I wish I never had to know them.

I have a whole new vocabulary of cancer words. ER and PR aren’t “emergency room” or “personal record.” HER2 isn’t just a thing I hear on an occasional commercial. (Medical commercials are the worst. The worst. The Crohn’s disease medication ones are particularly bad.)

BRCA2 isn’t just “a gene some young women have if their moms had breast cancer.” It is, as I learned last week, a thing I have.

I say “breast” now instead of “boob.” (Who do I think I am, Izzie Stevens?!)

Life has changed in so many ways, so suddenly, without any warning at all.

My entire world is consumed by having breast cancer, while also feeling perfectly physically fine. I’m running enough to satisfy my need for a good sweat, but not so much that I’ll be tired afterward. My energy resources are precious to me now. I’m taking it as easy as I know how to take it.

And I’m totally and completely in denial. I can’t stress that enough. As much as I know this is happening to me, as much as I understand about the medical procedures I’ll begin to undergo on July 3 — a double mastectomy with reconstruction, followed by chemotherapy — I don’t really get it. And I know I won’t until I’m in it, or sometime years later when I start to unpack it all.

It’s hard to process. It’s so, so overwhelming. Even with the best support system. (Truly, the best support system.) Even with a network of people who have gone through it or are currently going through it. Even with a great team of specialists and professionals. Even with a longtime therapist.

It’s tempting to try and sum it all up in a podcast episode, an Instagram caption, a newsletter. It’s also impossible to do that.

(Also currently suffering: my correspondence! At last check, we’re looking at 164 unread texts, many more emails, and dare I say thousands of DMs? The support is truly incomprehensible in the most amazing way. I’m trying really, really hard to see it all, to take it all in, and, I swear, to respond as best I can.)

Mostly, my brain is a whirlwind 24 hours a day. (I do sleep for some of those, thanks to my good friend Ambien. Turns out, when you have cancer, you can finally get an Ambien prescription without having to beg! We’ve gotta focus on the positives, people, and this one is big!)

Throwback to the 2022 B.A.A. 10K with fellow announcer Molly Huddle!

How about a bit of YAY-worthy news?

I was scheduled to be the race announcer at this year’s B.A.A. 10K, taking place on June 25. Then, I found out I was scheduled for surgery on June 26, and told the team at the B.A.A. that, sadly, I wouldn’t be able to be there. This week, I learned that — for an OK reason, which was me advocating for myself and getting a new plastic surgeon that I liked better than the original one I was assigned — my surgery would be pushed to a week later, July 3.

At first, I was crushed. A full week later. Not the date I planned for. Not the date I had told everyone. And another full week of having this cancer in my body. I want to get it out.

Then, a realization: I could be at the B.A.A. 10K after all.

I immediately reached out to Chris Lotsbom, who is my primary contact at the B.A.A. and one of my favorite people to work with, and one of my favorite people in the entire industry. (Does anyone reading this know Chris Lotsbom? Is he not the nicest, kindest person you have ever met in your life? He’s just so pleasant to be around!)

“I know you have a race announcer, but if you have a need for me on the day, I can be there,” I told him.

One last day at the races before surgery, chemo, and all that those will entail.

So I am very excited to say that I will, in fact, be at the 2023 B.A.A. 10K. I’ll be on the start line stage announcing in the morning, and then I’m going to jump in and run the race.

I’d love for you to join me!

I’m not going to be doing a live show, or any sort of meet-and-greet. Normally that’s my favorite, but total transparency, my emotional reserves are pretty exhausted at the moment. I’m psyched to get to be there, and to get to soak in all the good running and cheering vibes before life gets upended for a while. (Also, those pro fields! Sisson and Seidel and Obiri, oh my!)

But first: a girls’ getaway to Ocean City, NJ. Next week, I’ll be road tripping with Annie and my mom to spend a few days with family, celebrating my grandmother’s 99th birthday.

Thank you for all the love — last week, this week, always and forever. You mean the world to me.

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Photo by the very talented Johnny Zhang

This week on the Ali on the Run Show:

• Mary Kate Shea, Director of Professional Athletes and Technical Support/Events at the B.A.A.: Always a treat getting to talk to “MK,” who has the very best stories. In this episode, we recapped the 2023 Boston Marathon, and MK answered the question everyone was asking: “How did you get Eliud Kipchoge to finally come run Boston?”

• Mariana Fernández, Peloton Instructor & Marathoner: You don’t need to be a Peloton fanatic to appreciate the many, many takeaways from Mariana in this conversation. From how she got into running (her mom is running marathons at 70 years old!), to her consistency on the run (she’s run several 1:47–1:48 half marathons in a row this year), to how she got the Peloton job (manifesting + hard work + a whole lot of patience), Mariana was a dream to chat with.

• Run Your Way With Nikki Hiltz: What a treat getting to talk with Nikki while they were in Oslo, about to make their Diamond League debut! (Which, BTW, went beautifully! Nikki ran a blazing fast 4:18 mile, finishing fourth with that signature Nikki kick down the straightaway!) In this one, Nikki talks about being on a racing hot streak, analyzes their personal style, and talks about what Pride Month means to them.

What I’m watching: Never Have I Ever, the fourth and final season, on Netflix! I’m so sad for this one to end. I hate goodbyes! I’m really going to miss Ben and Paxton and Fabiola and Aneesa (did anyone else forget about her until she randomly showed up in that one episode mid-season?) and Trent and Kamala and Nalini. I have loved this whole crew. I love this show. Unsurprisingly, I blew through the last season in a day. Devi stresses me out, but I sure am proud of her growth. (Can’t say I recommend going away to college with a boyfriend from home, but I have much more faith in Devi and Ben working things out than, well…let’s just say my experience was different.)

Worth a click: I was featured on Self.com, talking about running marathons and having Crohn’s disease. This interview took place in a pre-Eugene, pre-everything-else world. I miss the simpler times, when I could just focus on one disease dominating my body! #TBT.

And so…

Take good care of yourselves. Take good care of each other. Tell someone you love them today. Thank you so much for being here. And whatever you’re going through, keep going.

Love,

Ali