Ali On The Run vs. Breast Cancer

Hi, my name is Julia and I'm a friend, fan, and supporter of Ali Feller (aka Ali on the Run!) just like many of you!

I know I'm not alone in continuing to think about how I can best support Ali and her family on the journey she is on to fight breast cancer. She has supported me, her family, her friends, her fans, and so many people in this world on their own journeys, and it is time for us to rally together and support Ali in return!

For those who have not heard the news, Ali, a 38 year old mom to the sweetest 4 year old girl, was recently diagnosed with "invasive ductal carcinoma." Bilateral breast cancer. Her full story is included below.

Ali is high profile in the running world and is known for her running podcast (the Ali on the Run Show), her blog, her energy, and most importantly, her kindness.

Ali has already started to embark on this difficult journey with the most optimistic attitude. She has channeled all of her anger against this diagnosis into persistence in navigating the healthcare system and fighting with insurance, while charming all the providers along the way.

I'm asking you to join me in supporting Ali and her family in helping to pay the large medical bills that have already started coming in and will continue to amass for a while. Due to the nature of Ali's career, she will ultimately have to slow down (even though we all know she does not know how to slow down!) and will need our support as she loses a significant amount of income. While we can't take away the stress and anxiety the cancer diagnosis will cause her, we can help ease the stress around the financial burden.

She has given us so much entertainment, support, and love through her podcast, her Instagram, her race announcing, and her live shows. Now in return, we need to show her all of the love and support that we can!

All contributions will go straight to Ali to support her and her family on this journey. This includes medical expenses, gas money to pay for the trips to and from the doctor's office (1 hour each way), post-treatment care, additional childcare, and other everyday expenses.

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Ali's story she shared on Instagram (please note that she ran a marathon, with her personal best time, the day after she found her first lump):

Thursday, April 27. We were in Eugene, OR, getting ready to take Annie down to the hotel pool. As I pulled the left side of my bathing suit onto my shoulder, I felt a lump.

I think, in that moment, something in me knew.

Three days later, I ran the Eugene Marathon. A 10-minute personal best, in the best shape of my life. The strongest I've ever felt.

The next day, at the airport, I felt a second lump. Same side as the first one.

I went to the doctor two days after that. "Just to be sure." She said it was probably nothing. I wasn't convinced.

On Friday, May 12, I had a mammogram and ultrasound. During the mammogram, they found a third lump. This one on the right side.

Still, I think I knew. The looks on everyone’s faces during the ultrasound — I know they tried not to make faces. But I could see them — and the large, black, jagged-edged masses on the screen.

I had all three masses biopsied on May 16. I asked how worried I should be. “I can’t tell you how worried you should be,” the radiologist said. “But I am very concerned.”

On Friday, May 19, while eating pastries in NYC with @marywruns, I got the results.

"Invasive ductal carcinoma."

Bilateral breast cancer.

I walked through Central Park in a daze, acutely aware that the worst day of one person's life is the best day of another's. That as my world came to a complete standstill, the world kept moving — and running — on.

I ran the Brooklyn Half the next morning, knowing it would be my last race for a while.

I'll have surgery on June 26, followed by chemotherapy. Radiation TBD.

I have a whole new vocabulary of “cancer words.” I have admittedly been in a fog since early May. It’s overwhelming. It’s a lot to process. I’ve been eager to share what’s been going on, and also nervous that sharing will make it real. I’m still not convinced that this is MY life. That this is a thing that’s happening to me.

But it is. And that’s what it is: a thing happening to me. Not my whole story. Not who I am.

It's going to be a journey. A journey I — a 38-year-old, very happy mom of a 4.5-year-old — didn't plan for. But I've got this. We've got this.