My Story

This is a cause that is deeply personal to me - in more ways than one. I was 27 years old when, just days after I graduated from my PhD program, a routine medical scan uncovered a large tumor in my appendix - an incredibly rare kind of malignancy that was later confirmed to be a Low Grade Appendiceal Mucinous Neoplasm (LAMN). Set up to start new jobs in different countries, we had to put our lives on hold for several months as we suddenly faced a series of potentially terrifying futures. For weeks I was poked and prodded, with each bit of news seemingly worse than the last, and we grappled with the possibility that it was worse than it looked, that I could lose my fertility, large chunks of my internal organs, or in the worst case scenario (depending on what the tumor actually ended up being), my life. We were incredibly, incredibly lucky. Surgery revealed that the tumor was still in an early enough stage that it almost certainly hadn’t spread outside the appendix, a fact that was happily confirmed six months later when my follow-up appointments showed that I was cancer-free, my tumor markers were down, and I could go forward with my life knowing it almost certainly will never come back.  

Unfortunately, that narrow escape was not our family's only brush with cancer. In October 2023, we experienced yet another gut-punch from a rare cancer: my beloved father-in-law, Bryan Suits, lost his own battle with an incredibly rare melanoma. Bryan was one of my favourite people in the world; a kind, brilliant, caring and deeply funny man. He was a physicist, dad, musician and an avid runner. His goal through his cancer treatment was to run the Boston Marathon, which he did in 2017; and he continued to run even as cancer (and treatment) made it harder and harder. He was one of the biggest supporters of my running, as well - he was usually the first person to donate to my race fundraisers, he'd check in on race mornings. One of the very last conversations we had face to face started with him asking, "So, are you getting ready for another race?" Not a day goes by that I don't miss talking to him - and especially talking to him about running. 

While we continue to process our own experiences with cancer, I can’t help but think of all the people who are going through this horrendous trauma themselves. The people with LAMN like me, for whom it was discovered when it had already spread through the abdominal cavity; people with more aggressive appendix cancers; and people with other extremely rare cancers that grapple with both the terror of the diagnosis and the lack of understanding in the medical community as to how or why these particular cancers happen. I'm running this distance (for the first time!) for them, for me, and most of all, for Bryan.

To add some fun, and because frankly, I’m getting tired of my running playlist, feel free to suggest a song that you like in the comments for your donation, and I’ll add it to my playlist!