Cancer: A Grueling Race

Ironman Dr. Jeffrey Reynolds compares his triathlon training to his cancer journey.

I thought I had conquered life’s ultimate physical challenge when I crossed the finish line at the Ironman Florida triathlon in November 2021 at age 55. Having transformed myself from an occasional weekend warrior- who could barely complete a 5K- into an endurance athlete, I achieved peak fitness and determination. But life had other plans for me. 
 
Just months after hearing those life-changing words, “Jeffrey Reynolds, you are an Ironman,” I faced a different kind of race—one I never signed up for. A routine physical revealed an elevated PSA level, leading to a stage 2b prostate cancer diagnosis that arrived via text message while I sat at a traffic light on April Fool’s Day 2022. The irony wasn’t lost on me. 
 
After successful robotic surgery and a swift recovery that allowed me to complete the New York City Marathon just four months later, I thought my battle was won. But cancer had other plans. During a routine colonoscopy in August 2023, doctors discovered a “significant mass”—stage 3b colorectal cancer that would demand everything I had learned from years of endurance training. 
 
This second diagnosis launched me into the most grueling race of my life: 27 days of radiation and chemotherapy, followed by eight rough rounds of chemo treatment as part of a clinical trial. The man who once ran daily for 777 consecutive days found himself unable to run at all, trading my athletic gear for hospital gowns and my morning miles for chemo infusions. 
 
But I discovered that the mental toughness, discipline, and “comfortable with being uncomfortable” mindset I’d developed through triathlon training became my secret weapons against cancer. Just as I’d learned to push through mile 18 of a marathon—that dark place where everything hurts and your mind begs you to quit—I applied the same grit to cancer treatment. Every chemo session became a workout, every side effect a hill to climb, every scan result a milestone to celebrate. 
 
Drawing parallels between swimming through choppy waters, cycling through headwinds, and running on empty legs, I found metaphors that transformed my cancer journey from a medical ordeal into an endurance event I could mentally navigate. My now-wife, Jillian, became my crew chief, my medical team became my coaches, and my fellow cancer patients became my training partners. 
 
Today, I stand as a two-time cancer survivor, having achieved “no evidence of disease” status. My tumor has vanished, but the lessons remain. Cancer, like the triathlon, changed me physically, emotionally, spiritually, and socially—ultimately making me stronger, more grateful, and more authentic than ever before. 
 
Through my story, I prove that the same qualities that get you across an Ironman finish line—persistence, courage, and the refusal to give up—can carry you through life’s most challenging battles. I’ve just published my first book about my cancer journey and here’s the punch line: every mile really does matter, whether measured in training logs or treatment days. 

Whether you are a patient, survivor, caregiver, or loved one touched by cancer, your story can have an enormous impact. You can provide hope and inspiration to someone recently diagnosed with cancer or a patient undergoing therapy.