about Running.

why?

So here I am, on Friday, November 29th, and I still haven’t managed to post this. I don’t know why. I guess I didn’t want it to seem like I was seeking sympathy. Then, at the popup, I ended up talking to someone who had just received a similar diagnosis and was in the “What is this?/this is a bit scary” stage. I did my best to answer her questions and not seem overly worried, and that conversation gave me the final push I needed to hit POST.

It’s 8:08 p.m. on Friday, October 25th. I’m sitting here listening to “White House” by LUCKI, trying to wrap up the end of a day and week that seems to have disappeared before my eyes.

In seven days, we will have just wrapped up our third popup and second shoe collaboration.

Each of these events is special, but this one has roots that reach deep, meander, and spread wide.

My relationship with running technically goes back to a young age. Sprints were either a punishment or a means of improving work capacity in sports. It wasn’t until around 2018 that I got into the sport in a more traditional sense… or maybe it found me instead.

On Friday, October 19, at 10:15 a.m., I walked into Dr. Lev Heimoff’s office for an appointment I had scheduled after returning from surfing (if you can call getting tossed around by waves "surfing"), where I had felt a small lump on the right side of my neck while adjusting my wetsuit.

During that appointment, he expressed his mild concern about the size and location of the lump and urged me to get both imaging and a needle biopsy. A few days passed, and I found myself in an Uber with my dad, heading back to my apartment as he continued on to the airport. Dr. Heimoff had received the biopsy results and wanted to speak with me in person that day… “Not great,” I thought.

By this time, I had been dropped off, and Dad was on his way to the airport, so I decided to call Mom to get her thoughts. I knew that, generally, doctors don’t ask to see you in their office unless it’s important.

Mom picked up, and I told her about the doctor’s request to see me that day. Her immediate response was, “That’s not good,” which… if you know my mom, is both funny and terrifying because there is very little she won’t respond to with, “You’re fine.” Growing up, any injury, bump, cut, or bruise was met with “You’re fine,” so hearing “That’s not good” wasn’t reassuring.

Long story short, that little thing I felt turned out to be thyroid cancer. Before I even had a chance to get home, research it, and understand it better, I was already sitting in a chair, hearing the word “cancer” and feeling an overwhelming wave of emotion.

The issue, and where running comes into all of this, is that I tend to think—a lot. I was living in NYC, still relatively new to the city, with no family nearby, so I had to find a way to process it all.

It started slowly—two miles here and there, music blaring in my ears as I tried to drown out the anxiety, negative thinking, and fear (mostly) about what could be coming next as I counted down the days to surgery.

Looking back now, six years later, and seeing how running has impacted my life, it’s nothing short of special for me. I’ve had the chance to meet some of the most incredible people, produce the gear (down to the shoes) that I run in, and watch a community of 5,000+ runners grow, all because of this sport.

So, I guess this is a mix of gratitude and a toast to many more years of chasing progress.

Cheers

Marcus