The Chapter I Almost Didn't Finish

My memoir, Every Mile Matters: Turning Triathlon Training Into Cancer Triumph has been out for almost a month now and it’s been especially rewarding to hear readers’ reactions to various parts of the book.

One chapter that’s gotten lots of attention is Chapter 10 - 13 pages of text that almost didn’t make it into print, not because I wanted to delete them, but because finding the right words was challenging and uncomfortable.

Each time I opened my manuscript and saw "Cancer Changes You Spiritually" staring back at me from the table of contents, I picked an easier chapter to complete.

Until the others were all done and I had no other choice.

It was easier to write about chemotherapy side effects, my fear of erectile dysfunction and DIY enemas than faith, mortality, and whether God heard my half-assed prayers.

My hesitation was faith itself, but also about authenticity. 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.

I worried about readers rolling their eyes at another "cancer taught me to pray" story.

Worse, I worried about feeling like a fraud.

How could I write about spirituality when I still wasn't sure what I believed? When I still struggled with surrendering control to something bigger than myself?

Each time I added a few more words to the chapter, the same doubts surfaced:

This sounds preachy.

This doesn't fit with the rest of the book.

Readers want practical advice, not theological wrestling.

The Marathon Metaphor

Then I remembered mile 18.

Every marathoner knows about mile 18 - that brutal point where your body screams to quit, where every rational thought tells you to stop, where the finish line feels impossibly far away. It's the place where races are won or lost, not because of speed, but because of the decision to keep going when everything hurts.

Mile 18 isn't optional. You can't skip it and still claim you ran a marathon. The discomfort, the doubt, the desire to quit - that's all part of the deal. Without it, you haven't really completed the journey.

Cutting the spirituality chapter would have been like stopping at mile 18. I would have avoided the hardest part, but I also would have missed the transformation

that only comes from pushing through the discomfort.

The Real Reason It Had to Stay

Cancer didn't just change my body; it changed everything. My relationship with uncertainty, with vulnerability, with the people I love. And yes, it changed my relationship with whatever force governs this universe, whether you call it God, a higher power or cosmic stardust.

To write honestly about cancer without addressing the spiritual earthquake it triggered would have been like describing a triathlon while skipping the swim. Sure, the bike and run are challenging, but you haven't really completed the event if you avoid the part that scares you most and can suck you under.

The spiritual questions cancer raised weren't quick, one-off conversations. They were central to my survival. When facing my own mortality, I had to - or rather, got to grapple with what comes next, what my life meant, and whether my desperate prayers were heard by anyone besides myself. These weren't luxuries; they were necessities.

Beyond My Comfort Zone

Finishing the chapter meant acknowledging that I still don't have all the spiritual questions answered. It meant admitting that cancer forced me to consider possibilities I'd previously dismissed. It meant writing about prayer from the perspective of someone who wasn't even sure he was praying to anyone.

But that's exactly why it belonged in the book. Publishing a memoir isn't about presenting a polished version of yourself; it's about revealing the messy, complicated, contradictory human being you actually are.

Readers don't need another spiritual guru; they need someone honest enough to say, "I'm not sure what I believe, but cancer made me consider things I never thought I'd consider."

The Unexpected Response

The spiritual chapter in Every Mile Matters has generated some of the most meaningful reader responses. People close to me and even strangers have shared their own struggles with faith during illness, their questions about prayer, their wrestling with mortality. Some thanked me for not having easy answers. Others appreciated that I could discuss spirituality without pushing a particular religious agenda.

Most importantly, people connected with my honesty - the quiet admission that crisis often forces us to examine beliefs we've taken for granted or ignored entirely.

The Lesson

Sometimes the chapters we most want to cut are the ones that most need to stay. The parts that make us squirm, that feel too vulnerable, that don't fit neatly into our well-crafted narrative are often where the real story lives.