My best friend RJ was at my house recently when she calmly and casually handed me a piece of paper with pink marker on it. “Check this out,” she said. I proceeded to read a list of every blood-related member of her family that is battling, has battled, or has succumbed to cancer. I was well aware of her family history. Because of my own battle with breast cancer, it was a common topic of conversation between us. However, to see it on paper was startling. Most of her female relatives, including her mother and grandmother, have battled the disease; many more than once. She was so “matter-of-fact” about it.

I should mention that RJ is only 25 years old. I would like to believe I would have the decorum she displays at her age when faced with this  frightening information. I am not sure I would. Even though I battled cancer at 31, I had already experienced challenge in my life and was more equipped to handle it than I would have been at 25.

Now, as RJ begins the process of completing her own genetic testing to determine if she carries the BRCA1 mutation, she must face her own possibility. According to the National Cancer Institute, a woman’s lifetime risk of developing breast and/or ovarian cancer is greatly increased if she inherits a harmful mutation in BRCA1 or BRCA2. Such a woman has an increased risk of developing breast and/or ovarian cancer at an early age (before menopause) and often has multiple, close family members who have been diagnosed with these diseases.

RJ and I have discussed openly and honestly, with both of our very supportive husbands listening, the choices she may potentially face. One would think that most 25 year-olds would be incapacitated by this. Not her. Instead of wallowing in self-pity, RJ decided to follow me into a different battle. One you do all by yourself, much like cancer, but a battle just the same.

RJ is not a girl I would describe as particularly athletic. She is thin and fit sure enough, but much like me B.C. (Before Cancer), she did what she needed to do to have a brownie or to drop a few pounds to fit into “that dress”. RJ’s capacity for sports falls somewhere between me, the consummate tomboy, and a girly-girl. She spent a little time in the gym, showed an interest in outdoor activities like skiing and hiking, and was always up for a walk. But recently, something in RJ changed. It was subtle. I’m not sure if it was the possibility of cancer or the opportunity to outrun it that acted as catalyst. I guess it doesn’t really matter.

As you know by now, mountain bike racing is my true love. But as a way of cross-training and decreasing cycling related injury, I compete in triathlon. A few months back, I brought up a triathlon in general conversation with RJ and our overtly athletic husbands, J and P, hopeful that one of them would join me. (I should mention that J competes in this triathlon but finishes in the top 10 out of 400. Not exactly “joining” me.) As casually as I had mentioned the idea, I dropped it. Instead, I registered for it and did not think of talking any of my other, less athletic friends into it. I do it every year and this year would be no different.

Later that week, RJ called to say she had borrowed a friend’s bike and had gone for a short ride. She enjoyed herself and was looking forward to riding again… and maybe with me sometime. Of course, I was excited as I train with men. To have my best friend show an interest in riding with me thrilled me. A few nights later, RJ called to say she had gone to the gym to run. Something she never really did and I was happy to hear she was broadening her workout horizons. Caught up in my own training and racing, it seemed every time she wanted to go for a ride, I needed to do a challenging training ride or exercise, and I had little time during my recovery weeks to take an easy ride with her.

A few more weeks went by and RJ asked if I could help her improve her swim form. While this stuck me odd, it is summer and we spend a lot of time in the lake. I dismissed it as nothing more than mild interest on her part. Later that same week, I double checked my registration and the schedule for the triathlon. That same day, RJ called to tell me she had registered. I had no idea she was taking everything so seriously. Always humble, RJ had been training consistently and with perseverance without mentioning it or bragging about it. As I have discussed in past articles, humility is not my strong suit. My dad has always encouraged this underrated quality. My husband is the humblest man I know, and I have spent the last five years cultivating it in myself. No easy feat, considering I had always been quite comfortable with my own arrogance. Yet another retrospective life-lesson harshly taught by cancer.

While I have a unique perspective on life and how precious it is, RJ has the benefit of pre-existing knowledge. She may have the ability to see her future. I don’t know if she chose to compete in this triathlon as a means of staying fit or outrunning cancer. Maybe both. Maybe neither. I just know I am so proud of and humbled by her. It’s funny to think I could learn so much from someone so young. And it’s ironic that she thanks me for inspiring her. I’m not sure she knows just how much she inspires me.

Race day arrived on July 12th and brought with it a cloudless, deep blue sky and a crisp, cool nip in the air. This was odd for July in Upstate New York, but welcomed weather on a race day. I felt like a nervous, like a big sister watching RJ take her first steps. She got teary-eyed, nearly threw up, paced, jumped around and wanted to pass out. I should mention this was all before we started. Her heat would hit the water before mine. As I watched her prepare to enter the water, RJ smiled and blew a kiss. I knew and she knew she was on her own. While J was already half-way through his swim, RJ’s husband, stood on the lakeside, capturing every moment in pictures. (Later in the day, as we poured over all the pictures, we would giggle about her nerves!)

I would not know how she had done until I came upon this little girl, pedaling furiously on a borrowed bike, wearing a borrowed helmet and a smile that could not be described as “ear-to-ear” but as enveloping her whole being. RJ had gotten through the swim leg and was now more than halfway through the bike leg. I would not see her again until she crossed the finish line.

Shortly, after I came across the finish line, I found J and P happily waiting for me. I told them I had not seen RJ during the run leg so it might be a while. No sooner did I say that, we realized she was on her way up the last big hill, running her heart out and wearing the same big smile! RJ had done it. She had faced her fears, took the necessary steps, and completed her first triathlon.

I know I cannot control challenges and struggles that RJ may face in her future. I know I cannot change her family history or the genes she carries. But I know that whatever her future holds, she will face it with the same strength and courage with which she faced this triathlon. I also know that I can swim and ride and run with her, learn from her, laugh and cry with her, be inspired by her and, most importantly, be her friend.

JENNIFER YANAZZO is a mountain bike racer and triathlete with fierce determination that goes above and beyond most competitors. She entered (and won) her first race just one year after undergoing surgery and chemotherapy for breast cancer… {more}

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