CANCER COULDN'T STOP ME
They say what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger — and these marathon-running sur vivors are living proof
FIGHTING cancer requires patients to summon physical and emotional strength that many never knew they had. Spurred on by this full-body battle, some survivors leverage their toughness and fighting spirit to conquer another tremendous physical feat: running 26.2 miles in a marathon.
“On the psychological side, we’ve seen a number of times that people who have conquered cancer are really interested in showing that they are back to normal,” Dr. Marcel van den Brink, chief of Memorial Sloan Kettering’s Division of Hematologic Malignancies, tells The Post. “They show it by doing something like running a marathon or going on a major hike.”
Still, van den Brink advises that would-be marathoners first check with their doctors, adding, “Don’t overdo it. Don’t focus on a set time. Just enjoy the experience.”
Meet three cancer survivors who are taking back their lives by running the New York City Marathon on Sunday.
Carrie Kreiswirth
After multiple cancer surgeries, she’s back in charge of her body She has emotional and physical scars, but Carrie Kreiswirth, 41, is determined to cross the finish line — a feat she says she’d never have considered if she hadn’t first battled cancer.
“This was never a bucket-list item,” Kreiswirth, who works in p.r., tells The Post. “For me, this is a celebration and commemoration of what my body has been through and what it’s capable of doing. I’m choosing to do this.”
Five years ago, Kreiswirth was diagnosed with an aggressive form of breast cancer. A carrier of the BRCA1 gene — a genetic mutation that predisposes people to breast and ovarian cancer — she opted to have a double mastectomy and reconstructive surgery using tissue from her abdomen and hips. She also had her eggs retrieved before undergoing chemotherapy, and then had her ovaries removed.
“I have a 20-inch scar on my stomach. And there’s scar tissue in my hips from the reconstructive surgery,” says the Upper West Side resident, who says the stiff scar tissue reduces her flexibility and makes it difficult to clock high mileage.
Before her diagnosis, Kreiswirth casually jogged. In February 2015 — a year after finishing chemotherapy — she ran a halfmarathon at Disney World. “It was too soon,” she says. Although the race made her feel “remarkably accomplished,” she says she was still struggling psychologically with “the aftermath of cancer.”
Earlier this year, she received an e-mail from First Descents — an outdoor-adventure company that provides physical challenges to cancer patients — about running the marathon to raise money for the charity.
“For some reason, I couldn’t bring myself to delete the e-mail,” she says. Instead, she signed up. “There was this idea of, ‘Let’s do this and take back some control.’ ”
Kreiswirth consulted with a sportsmedicine doctor at Manhattan’s Hospital for Special Surgery, who gave her the thumbs-up. She now sees a physical therapist every week to work on her scartissue flexibility. And running coach Jonathan Cane helps keep her on track.
The journey, she says, has allowed her “to take control of my body again both physically and emotionally.” She’s not only hoping to finish the race, but for it to be “the best day of my life.”
NOT every couple is always in lock step with one another. But Jessie Rix and Anthony Butler aren’t just any couple: They’re a powerhouse running duo who’ve completed four marathons — tethered to one another every step of the way.
Two years ago, when she first volunteered as a guide for disabled runners, Rix thought she’d picked up a new hobby. She never guessed she’d find love along the way.
The 28-year-old fashion marketing exec was a competitive runner in high school. Although she ran her first New York City Marathon in 2015, the Minnesota native longed to find a running buddy in the city she’d called home since college. So she joined Achilles International, a group that pairs guides with disabled athletes for running events.
Butler, a 30-year-old social worker, grew up in Harlem, a rising basketball star who was dunking since he was 13. “You only ran when your life was in danger,” he tells The Post of his childhood. Ten years ago, an altercation ended with a bullet to his head that left him blind and, in every sense, lost. In 2014, a colleague suggested he take up running. It was a
worthy suggestion.
“I needed to have a life of my own and be around other people with disabilities I could relate to,” Butler says.
He and Rix shared their first practice run in spring 2016 in Central Park. They felt an immediate connection. “He was talking and laughing and having the time of his life — it was really refreshing,” Rix says.
The lifelong runner says that, at first, she couldn’t keep up with Butler. “He was going to run at a 10-minute pace, but he did seven-minute miles,” she says.
But they swiftly found their stride, each holding one end of a lanyard that tethers them. They learned to take love slower too. After months of building a deep friendship, the two started dating.
Granted, there have been some bumps along the way, running-wise. “We don’t trip too much, but it happens,” Rix says. “Sometimes I even trip and he catches me.”
Together, they’ve run marathons and half-marathons all over the US and in France and Spain, but their true passion is circling the Central Park loop at 5 in the morning. It’s easier to get together these days: Last summer, Rix moved into Butler’s Harlem apartment, close to their favorite running path.
Butler, who’s completed six
marathons — four with Rix — clocks his best time at just over five hours, but insists he’s not in it to win.
“I meet people who are so competitive and running rules their lives,” he says. “We all have 9-to-5s — this is supposed to be a relief, not add more stress. I tell Jessie to go with other people sometimes because I don’t want to slow her down.”
In fact, they’ll have other partners at Sunday’s NYC Marathon. “As much as we love to run together, we also like to have our time running with other friends,” Rix says.
Achilles athletes have all kinds of disabilities, including brain injury, autism and the loss of a limb. Rix says she was surprised to find how guiding Butler and others made her a better runner.
“You quickly realize how tough these people are, and they will leave you in the dust if you don’t push yourself, too,” she says. “I had to do so much more training than I’m used to, just to keep up with them.”
At the same time, she adds, “Anthony’s helped me realize that you can have fun with it.”
“They say you meet someone with a common interest,” Butler says. “It’s easy, it’s seamless. It’s like people who meet in church. We’re in this for the long haul.”