Quick story of what brought me into CFH by Gary Carlson
In May of 2013, I found myself surfing the internet on my couch in my living room; I was looking for a way to get back to my rightful place of fitness. I never had to work to be fit in the past as I had a regular schedule of soccer and hockey leagues, weekends of skiing and surfing (well, trying), and regular running, yoga, and “going to the gym.” However, in May 2013, things were different.
About one year prior, I sat in a doctor’s office and had that conversation that you just never want to have. “It’s likely cancer, and we’ll need to schedule you for an orchiectomy.” While those words stung like a barb when I heard them, working to develop cancer drugs, I at least was able to think rationally about it. I spoke with the doctor I worked with and, if you can believe it, we joked a bit. “If you are a young male and are going to get cancer, testicular cancer is the one to get…” Knowing this, I expected this to be almost only an inconvenience. However, what I didn’t know at that time was that I was to be in the unlucky percentage for who this diagnosis would be much more than a mere inconvenience.
Following the surgery to remove “righty,” the biopsy results shredded any amount of optimism that I had as, in the doctor’s word, I had an “aggressive little tumor.” I found it incredibly early (so early that the doctors were surprised at how small the tumor was), but it likely had already metastasized due to it’s histological type. In fact, my cancer was considered “stage IIb” meaning I had a lot more ahead of me.
From Hackensack University Medical Center I was referred to Memorial Sloan Kettering Cancer Center for the remainder of my treatment which I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy. The next surgery that I had to have is called a retroperitoneal lymph node dissection or RPLND. In layman’s terms, it means that my abdomen was cut open from the sternum down past the belly button, my organs were removed from my body, and all 98 of the lymph nodes lining my back were harvested out. Following the biopsy of those lymph nodes, as the doctor suspected, 2 of them showed cancer necessitating more treatment.
In the late summer of 2012, my exercise was “old man walks” around Hoboken. I had to have 2 cycles of 5 straight days of chemotherapy and still recovering from the previous surgery and not being able to properly eat, my weight dropped below 130 pounds.
Finally, I finished that and thought I was out of the woods, but one more surprise awaited when a few months later, my 3 month CT scan revealed that I had developed a pulmonary embolism (frequently fatal either then or if it travels to the brain) which would necessitate 3 months of twice daily, self administered, anticoagulant therapy. While I was anxious about it, I honestly was more mad that that kept me off the road to recovery.
While I had a few months of trying to scrape out a ski season, that was basically my baseline. 10 months of dealing with cancer had sapped my strength and spirit. A short time later, I sat on my couch surfing the internet, trying to figure out how I would be stronger than ever before. In May 2013, I joined the community at Crossfit Hoboken and never looked back.
In the spirit of our community, I also chose to give back to the institution that saved my life. I’m running the New York City Marathon on November 1st for Fred’s Team – Memorial Sloan Kettering Cancer Center’s philanthropic arm, named for Fred Lebow, the founder of the modern NYC Marathon who passed away from cancer in 1994 but, prior to that, named Memorial Sloan Kettering the first official charity of the NYC Marathon.
I’ve run 3 marathons in the past, including in 2009 when I raised over $4000 to support “Hope for our Warriors,” a philanthropy dedicated to supporting our wounded veterans and swore I would never run another one. Funny how life can change that.
Since starting Crossfit, I’ve noted a palpable change to my running. While there are the obvious physical benefits, the mental ones are what I lean on most. In the past, running a 5K or a 10K, I would often be setting a fast pace early and think to myself “what if I can’t keep this pace to the end?” Now, however, I think “what if I can?” In the past, while I would not be daunted by running through a 17 mile per hour headwind, when it happens now, I smile a bit.
I may not run my fastest marathon this year, but I am doing it for more personal reasons than in the past. And I would be incredibly humbled and grateful if you would consider donating to my efforts.
