Sometimes the best examples of people avoiding the Rudy Syndrome are so obvious, we miss them.  In fact, I realized recently I had missed sharing a very compelling story because I was so close to it, I simply overlooked its motivational value.

I have a friend named Caroline.  Well, that's not her real name, but she forbid me from using her real name here, so we will go with "Caroline" for now.  Caroline is a runner.  She has been running marathons for at least a decade.  And, quite successfully.   She is one of those people whose very identity is wrapped up in the daily grind of training runs, cross training workouts, counting mileage, and recovering from injuries.  For Caroline, going a day without running is like a smoker going a day without smoking.  She needs running as much as she loves running.  Yes, Caroline is a runner.

So, when she was diagnosed with breast cancer and told she would not be able to run for at least a year, she was understandably devastated.  Not only was the cancer diagnosis an obvious life changing event, but the news of having to be sidelined from running added insult to injury.  She wondered, out loud, how she would get through the mental, physical and emotional drain of dealing with cancer without having her daily run to keep her going.

As with so many cancer stories, Caroline's has had its ups and downs.  She endured months of treatment, received good news and bad news, and sometimes even worried that the cancer would get the best of her.  Some days she felt good and some days she didn't.  Throughout surgery, radiation, chemotherapy, countless trips to an assortment of doctors, and days when she couldn't even get out of bed, she always longed for the day when she could return to running.  In fact, she often said the hope of being able to get back out on the road was the only thing keeping her going from day to day.  Even when she was so sick with chemotherapy she could barely speak, she forced herself to look forward to the day when she would get up at 4:00 in the morning, put the running shoes back on, and run into the sunrise.

Each time she visited the doctor, she asked if today was the day she could go for her first run.  After about a year, the doctor finally released her to slowly work back up to running a short distance.  To Caroline, this was like someone had lifted a horrible cloud from over her head.  Unfortunately, the return to running was not as easy as she thought it would be.  If you haven't experienced cancer treatment or known someone who has, suffice to say the treatment can cause the body substantial side effects including weakening bones and sapping energy.

But, Caroline, the runner, was not to be deterred.  She started with a few excruciating steps.  Day after day, she worked to get her strength and rhythm back.  Although she struggled for every step, she eventually worked back to a steady enough pace that she decided to begin training for her first post-cancer marathon.  Every day, with her bald head covered with a colorful scarf, she got out there and worked just like Rudy to achieve her goal.  And, as you must have guessed by now, several months after she laced up her shoes and took that first tentative step, she started, and finished, her first marathon as a cancer survivor. 

Today, she says that looking forward to, and finally getting back to, running is probably what saved her life during the worst part of her cancer treatment.  Caroline's singular focus on running as a way to get through cancer is an inspiration to all of us who are in a bad place in life.  Recall something you love to do and focus on getting back to that passion, no matter how impossible it may seem right now.

Caroline has trained for a run several marathons since her cancer treatment.  And, I'm happy to report that she is cancer free at the moment.  Maybe, just maybe, her dedication to looking past a devastating diagnosis and focusing on something positive is the very thing she needed to beat breast cancer and live to run another day.

Thanks, Caroline, for refusing to let cancer get the best of you.  We salute you for not having the Rudy Syndrome.