From Boston Training to a Cancer Diagnosis:

A Runner’s Journey Back to the Start Line

Sloan’s Story

This past winter, I set out to build a strong training block for the 2025 Boston Marathon. My wife was working abroad in France, so I was balancing marathon prep with caring for our two teenage daughters. That responsibility centered me. I had run another solid sub 3 in Chicago that fall and felt ready for a breakthrough in Boston. My training was on track with strong races in the Boston Buildup Series, strength work at the New Canaan YMCA, and consistent long runs. I truly believed this could be the year I finally broke three hours in Boston.

 

My last tune up was the NYC United Half Marathon on March 16, 2025. I had two goals: get in a solid effort for Boston and run under 1:28 to qualify for the 2026 NYC Marathon.

 

That morning, something felt off. I had indigestion that did not feel like normal pre race nerves. I almost missed my corral, and from the first 5K I knew it would be a struggle. For the first time ever, I considered dropping out. Still, I tried to settle in with a pack, but I came up short of the NYC qualifying standard.

 

Back home, I took a rest day, then went out for a 10 mile run to clear my head. The run went well, including a 5K tempo to finish, and I regained confidence that Boston was still within reach. But an hour later, the stomach pain returned stronger than before. By evening, I was on the floor, unable to move, and vomiting. With my wife still away, my daughter Eva called an ambulance.

 

At the hospital, a CT scan revealed a grapefruit sized 10 centimeter tumor on my stomach. I was in shock. They did not yet know if it was cancer, but I needed surgery immediately. That night, they removed the tumor, which was later confirmed to be a rare and aggressive Gastrointestinal Stromal Tumor, also known as a GIST. My life changed in an instant.

 

 

Early Signs: Listening to the Body We Often Ignore

Looking back, the earliest symptoms appeared after the 2023 Berlin Marathon. I felt sick and even threw up walking back to my hotel. The pattern continued occasionally, but it was never consistent enough to raise alarms. Doctors now believe running is what provoked my symptoms and ultimately saved my life, revealing the tumor before it spread.

 

 

Diagnosis, Surgery, and the Long Walk Back

Surgeons removed the tumor with clear margins and also removed about 35 percent of my stomach. I was incredibly lucky it had not spread. Recovery was difficult. For a week, I could not walk without a walker, and even basic tasks felt monumental. Emotionally, it was exhausting.

 

Despite the difficulty, I was grateful to be alive. Small victories brought joy such as shuffling down the hallway, feeling sunshine on a slow walk, and hearing birds in the morning. Gradually, I progressed from a few steps to a mile, then to walking loops around Waveny Park. Leaving my walking sticks behind and walking a 5K in under an hour felt like winning a marathon.

 

My family, friends, and community lifted me up. Sharing my progress on Strava helped me feel connected and encouraged, a reminder of how powerful the running community can be.

 

Chemotherapy and Redefining Running

 

Once I was able to walk consistently, I began adjuvant chemotherapy. The side effects came quickly. My blood markers dropped, leaving me fatigued and winded. Every run felt like being at altitude with no oxygen. I learned to adjust and focus on effort instead of pace.

 

By mid summer, I started jogging again and mixing walking into every outing. It took weeks before I could run a few miles without stopping. But I was running, and that was everything.

 

I needed a goal, so I set my sights on the 2025 New York City Marathon. To test my fitness, I asked my friend Matt Kupersmith to run the Ridgefield Half Marathon with me. I was nervous because I can no longer take gels or sports drinks, but Matt stayed with me the whole way.

 

To my surprise, I ran around 1:30. Finishing that race on a course so meaningful to me, and hearing Megan Searfoss announce my name, was unforgettable. For the first time since surgery, I felt like myself again. I was running. I was surviving. I was coming back.

 

A New Outlook

 

Cancer changed every part of my life. Gratitude now guides me. Every time I see my scar, I am reminded of what I have survived.

 

The experience of diagnosis, surgery, treatment, and recovery felt similar to training for a marathon. It was a journey defined by resilience and small steps forward. That mindset carried me through the 2025 New York City Marathon. I was fully present during the entire race, taking photos, hugging friends, and celebrating every mile. Seeing my family in Harlem at mile 22 was unforgettable.

 

What’s Next

 

This journey has made me a better father, husband, and friend. I feel more present, more connected, and more grateful. I want to show my children and my community that cancer does not define what I can do. My hope is that my story inspires others facing their own battles to keep moving forward.

 

My next goal is to line up in Hopkinton for the 2026 Boston Marathon. Whether I break three hours or not does not matter. Simply being there will be an accomplishment. Last year, I watched Boston from my bed, barely able to walk ten feet. This year, I am determined to stand on that start line, and I cannot wait to celebrate.