Nobody told me that when I got my cancer diagnosis, I was also getting a leadership test. I found out on a Thursday. By Friday morning I was back at my desk, fielding calls, running a meeting, making decisions for an organization that serves tens of thousands of people. Not because I was fine. I wasn’t fine. But because I was the CEO, and I had spent thirty years believing — without ever examining the belief — that my job was to project stability regardless of what was happen

Last week, Los Angeles Marathon organizers did something unsettling. With temperature forecasts climbing, race organizers offered runners an official option: stop at mile 18, take a shuttle to the finish line, and collect the same finisher medal as everyone who ran all 26.2 miles. It was going to be hot. And nobody should die for a race. But a marathon is not a suggestion. It’s not a goal range or a general direction. It is a specific, ancient, non-negotiable agreement with

For most of my adult life, I told myself I just wasn’t a morning person. I’d hit snooze. Reach for my phone before my feet hit the floor. Scroll through email, check the news, absorb everyone else’s urgency before I’d had a single intentional thought of my own. By the time I walked into the office, I was already reactive — already behind — already running on someone else’s agenda instead of my own. And I was the CEO of a $28 million organization, responsible for the wellbeing

Real gratitude - the kind that actually sustains you - doesn’t look like the social media version of Thanksgiving.

Sometimes the speeches we need to give and the speeches others need to hear find each other at just the right moment.

Cancer doesn’t care how many miles you’ve logged or how fast you can run. Chemotherapy doesn’t negotiate with your VO2 max. Your cancer cells aren’t impressed by your swim times.

What was happening to my body, however, was only half the battle. The other half was the story I was telling myself about what it all meant.

"Every Mile Matters: Turning Triathlon Training into Cancer Triumph" is available now as an audiobook on Audible, Spotify, Google Play, Apple Books and in multiple formats via Amazon.

I had the pleasure of running all 86 flights or 1,576 stairs up the Empire State Building last night as part of the NYU Langone team.

Cancer changes your relationship with time. Before my diagnosis, birthdays marked the passage of years in a vague, abstract way. Sure, I was getting older, but that timeline stretched comfortably into a distant, hazy future. After cancer, each birthday became something more concrete - less a marker of age and more a testament to survival.

Races - especially long course races that challenge you - hit differently these days. Sure, the sleepless nights leading into the race remain and there’s that nagging sense that this is just too much too soon. But as I faced yesterday’s choppy 1.2 mile swim, a windy 56 mile bike ride and steamy 13.1 mile run, I knew I could do it, because, well, I survived cancer.

I didn't ask for cancer, wouldn't recommend it to anyone, and would gladly give it back if I could. But since I can't, I've chosen to extract whatever wisdom, strength, and purpose I can from the experience. Not because I'm grateful for the disease, but because I refuse to let it win.

I've never been particularly religious and put my spiritual journey aside for decades, focusing instead on building a career and being my own higher power. The idea of suddenly finding God after cancer felt cliché, like I was following some predictable script about foxhole conversions.

In his powerful new memoir, "Every Mile Matters: Turning Triathlon Training into Cancer Triumph," Reynolds reveals how years of grueling athletic training became his secret weapon in a fight for survival that would test his physical and mental endurance.

President Donald Trump’s Big Beautiful Bill, approved last week by a sleep-deprived U.S. Congress, slashes healthcare spending and potentially impacts Medicaid coverage for millions of Americans – but Health and Human Services Secretary Robert F. Kennedy Jr. insists he’s got other ways to Make America Healthy Again.

Stopping the free flow of fentanyl into our country is important; that's the supply side of the equation. We need to also address the...

Twenty million Americans suffer from life-altering pain, putting them at risk for depression, suicide and addiction.

January 12th is the day that people are most likely to ditch their New Year's resolutions.

I took cold showers for 123 days straight. I started each day feeling accomplished, energized and tougher than I was before.

It's notoriously difficult to get a letter to the editor published in the New York Times, but I got my second letter published this week....