Fundraising

I ran a marathon with cancer.

Not metaphorically. Literally.

It was October 2024. I had already committed to running the Marine Corps Marathon. I had trained, visualized the finish line, and prepared like I always do. But earlier that month, I was diagnosed with cancer. I knew something was wrong—my body felt off. There was pain I couldn't ignore. Still, I wasn't ready to stop.

I told my doctors I needed more time. I asked them to delay the surgery until after the race. They agreed—three days. That was the window I had.

So I ran.
Through the symptoms.
Through the questions.
Through the fear that pulsed quietly beneath every stride.

It wasn't just physical. It was spiritual. Emotional. Soul-deep.

And somehow… it became one of the most blissful, soul-enriching marathons I've ever experienced. There was something sacred about it. I wasn't running away from the diagnosis—I was running through it, toward something greater. Toward purpose.

After the race, I had surgery. Recovery began. And so did the part of the story that reminded me just how much love I'm surrounded by.

My sister flew up from North Carolina with a cookbook in hand—Chris and Micah Wark's Cancer-Fighting Kitchen—and she and my mom prepared meals from it while I rested and mentally prepared for treatment. That book became a symbol. It meant we were doing something. Fighting back. Nourishing my body with intention and care.

My dad, along with a few close friends, stood strong and steady through it all. Their support meant everything. Their presence was grounding.

By pure luck—and the grace of God—I didn't need chemotherapy. I remain under active surveillance today. Every scan and test is a reminder of what I went through… and what I continue to carry forward.

In 2026, I carried that purpose to Berlin and raised $4,000 with ACS DetermiNation. Now, I'm continuing that commitment at the 2027 London Marathon with Young Lives vs Cancer. The reason remains the same: gratitude for the support I received, and a promise to stand with others facing cancer—not just on race day, but through the challenges beyond the finish line.

Because cancer doesn't discriminate.
It doesn't care how old you are.
How fit you are.
Or how "healthy" your lifestyle looks on paper.

But we still have power.
The power to take action.
To share our stories.
To support someone else.
To choose purpose over fear.

If you'd like to join me in this journey, I invite you to donate. Even a small amount can make a lasting impact in someone's life.

Thank you for reading.

Thank you for caring.

And thank you for standing with those who need it most.

—Mitchell Garber