What Powerlifting Taught Me About Navigating Breast Cancer at 26

In January of 2024 I was living the healthiest life I thought possible. I was 26 years old, working on my PhD in cancer prevention research at the University of Miami and building strength in the gym as a powerlifter.

I played NCAA basketball in college and always incorporated strength training to improve my game. I noticed I was really strong in the gym, but it wasn’t until after I wrapped up my undergraduate studies and was looking for something that would fill my time and help me stay in shape that I found powerlifting. One day, I was working out at the gym, bench-pressing over 135 pounds for reps, when a member of the powerlifting team from the University of South Florida saw me. They were like, “Girl, you’re lifting more than us—you need to join our team!”

So I did, and I loved it. I think it helped me a lot with discipline, and it gave me a goal outside of academics to work toward. Knowing I could move a lot of weight benefited me mentally as well, and of course it was great for my physical health.

I had just come off a very good powerlifting meet and was preparing for an even bigger event—one reserved for those with the highest scores across the three major lifts (squat, bench press, and deadlift)—when I first went to the doctor to check out a lump I noticed in my breast.

When I was around 11 years old, my pediatrician taught me how to do a breast self-exam, so I would do that every month or so. That’s how I found it. I actually noticed it first in early 2023, but when it started to grow and began to hurt in the fall, I made plans to get it checked out. Initially, I attributed the pain to heavy bench-pressing. I thought it was likely a muscle strain, since it was right around my pec.

I made an appointment at the student health center for a women’s health exam in December for their first available slot in January. Initially, they weren’t even going to do a breast exam—just a Pap smear and things like that. But I made a point of telling the doctor about the lump in my breast as she was leaving the room. It was one of those last-minute questions they talk about patients asking. After examining me she didn’t really see any issues with it; she thought it was just fibrous tissue. And to be honest I was on board with her thinking, as young women having cysts and lumps in their breasts isn’t uncommon.

But she said, “Just to be safe let me send you to do a mammogram and an ultrasound.” That suggestion saved my life.

The second the technician put the ultrasound wand on my breast, she looked shocked and went to ask another person to help her do a 360-degree ultrasound to see everything going on inside my breast. She was like, “How long have you had these masses?”

I was at that appointment by myself because, again, I wasn’t too worried about it. I thought it was just a box I needed to check to confirm nothing was wrong. From there they rushed me to the front of the mammogram line. I skipped everybody in the waiting room and went immediately from the ultrasound room to get additional imaging. Two days after my ultrasound and mammogram, they did a biopsy. It was a lot mentally—I’d gone into my appointments not expecting much, and it turned into this big thing where they were saying, “You need to do this biopsy. We need to diagnose your disease.” There was a lot going on.

The next day—it was a Saturday, so over the weekend—I got a notification in my online patient portal about my mammogram and ultrasound. It said my results were BI-RADS 5. Because my research in the cancer space had mostly been with people who were already diagnosed, I hadn’t run into that term before. When I looked it up, I learned it meant my chance of having cancer was 95% or greater. Seeing those results—combined with the rush to get the additional testing—made me pretty sure I had breast cancer. So at that point I had basically accepted the likelihood of the diagnosis; I was more worried about the specifics, like what stage it was.

During this testing and waiting period, I kept going to the gym to lift. It helped me a lot with trying to process it all while also giving me something to do and another thing to focus on.

On Monday I received a phone call with my biopsy results saying I had invasive ductal carcinoma. I wasn’t surprised—I was more like, Just tell me what I need to know so I have the information I need to start fighting it. That’s the mode I was in.

During that call, I only got that diagnosis, but eventually I learned that my cancer was stage 2B. It’s considered an early-stage breast cancer, but one that’s progressing or growing. I also learned it was estrogen-receptor-positive, meaning the hormone estrogen fuels the tumors’ growth.

It was only five days from the time I got my ultrasound to when I received my diagnosis. Though it was quick, it felt like forever. Because the cancer was in all four quadrants of my breast—meaning it was considered multicentric—we knew I was looking at a unilateral mastectomy. But before I got that done, I froze my eggs, since breast cancer treatment can impact fertility. I wasn’t thinking about surgery, even though I knew it was coming next. The only thing on my mind was whatever I was dealing with at that time and in that moment.

I had my mastectomy on March 26, 2024—my 27th birthday. I chose that date because it was the first available time. It didn’t give me pause; I just wanted the cancer out of my body as soon as possible. And now that date represents another birthday of sorts, a rebirth.

Every decision about my treatment was made one step at a time. I never knew what might come next in my journey. Those sorts of unknowns can be hard, but the fact that so much of it was out of my control anyway helped me manage the uncertainty in a way. I approached it more with the attitude that this is what I need to do, and this is what has to be done.

After I had the surgery, I met with my medical oncologist, and she let me know I’d also need chemotherapy and radiation. The chemo went from May to July and the radiation from October to early November.

The surgery required the removal of some lymph nodes, so I had mobility issues I needed to work out in physical therapy before getting back to powerlifting. But overall recovery from the mastectomy and radiation wasn’t that bad.

I continued with my studies during my surgery recovery, radiation, and chemotherapy, but chemo definitely came with challenges. During my appointments I was on my computer, writing papers with chemo running through my veins. While I was able to manage it, I do think you should give yourself a break during chemotherapy if you can.

Thanks to my prior research on how lifestyle factors influence cancer care, I knew that not only was it safe to exercise during chemo, but there were lots of benefits to doing so. I co-authored a meta-analysis—a type of research that combines and analyzes data from previous studies to come to an overarching finding—on this topic published in a scientific journal called The Lancet in early 2026. It concluded that exercising during chemo improved quality of life for women with breast cancer.

I continued to lift during chemo, and as powerlifters do, I logged the data from my workouts the whole time. Afterward I thought, This could be good to share with others to help them too. So I published a case study in the journal Lifestyle Medicine about my experience powerlifting through chemotherapy. My workouts were programmed to coincide with treatment and symptom days—for instance, tougher high-intensity sessions were scheduled in the days leading up to chemo, while low-intensity mobility and accessory work replaced heavy lifting in the days after.

I completed chemotherapy having preserved about 90% of my strength across the big three lifts. I squatted 408 pounds less than 24 hours before my last chemo treatment. Going into chemo I didn’t have any expectations about maintaining my strength—it was more something that gave me a sense of normalcy, something I had done before my cancer journey. So not only did strength training help me physically bounce back from chemo more quickly, but it helped me mentally as well.

One day that will always stick with me happened three weeks after my mastectomy, when I went back to the gym and bench-pressed 135 pounds. (Before I was diagnosed, 292 was my maximum.) It helped me realize I could bench press again and I could do hard stuff after treatment—I had just proved it to myself.

That workout is also what led me to share my story and create my Instagram page, Strong After Cancer. I didn’t see anyone else doing that. I didn’t know of anyone who was an adolescent or young adult powerlifting through chemotherapy and other cancer treatments. I want to be that person for the next individual who, sadly, will be diagnosed young and wants to work out during treatment. Already I’ve been able to help so many women, and two powerlifters have reached out so far. It means a lot when people contact me to let me know they’re working out and channeling their inner strength after cancer. I love seeing people move past their diagnosis and gain a lot of information from my page.

Currently, I’m considered to be in remission. I take hormone therapy drugs daily to lower my estrogen levels, and I meet with my oncology team every six months to get a full physical exam and receive meds for a clinical trial I’m participating in. In June I had reconstruction surgery, and within a month, I was back to powerlifting.

In May I earned my PhD—my dissertation primarily focused on lifestyle interventions in women’s cancer treatment—and I just started a postdoc research position at VCU Massey Comprehensive Cancer Center, where I’ll be studying sleep and stress in cancer patients. One day I hope to be a professor at a National Cancer Institute–designated cancer center.

I’m still writing papers, playing with my dog, and going to the gym. I’m not focused on putting up big numbers in the weight room or participating in powerlifting meets right now. My priority is moving my body and getting to the point where I feel 100%—I’m just thinking about health, honestly. I’ve started adding cardio into my routines—biking and doing a little running—to improve my cardiovascular health, and it’s been a great addition.

I think the biggest change in my day-to-day life since cancer has been becoming a patient advocate. Going through cancer myself gave me a much deeper understanding of the experiences I was researching, one that’s hard to fully grasp from the outside looking in. You can try to imagine what patients are going through, but there are things you can’t know unless you live through them yourself. My experience with cancer really made me appreciate what patients are going through. It will definitely help with my future steps and influence my work moving forward.