How running helped this breast cancer survivor rebuild strength and start again

When I get to UFIT City Hall, Cassandra Hie is already there, early and ready. She is dressed in activewear with her hair tied up, looking like she could go for a run at any moment. It is surprising to think that just a few years ago, this 52-year-old long-distance runner was going through 16 rounds of chemotherapy after being diagnosed with Stage 2 breast cancer. Even more surprising is that she kept running throughout iti all.

She greets me with a kind, bright energy that puts me at ease right away. Soon, she is asking about me instead. When I tell her I am trying HYROX Singles in Singapore for the first time, her face lights up. “Oh my god, I’m so excited for you!” she says, almost bouncing in her seat. “You’ll love it. Just remember to pace yourself, but more importantly, enjoy it.” Her encouragement feels like it comes from an old friend, not someone I just met. People call her a “ray of sunshine,” and it is easy to see why.

But Cassie’s story is not only about optimism. It is about what happens when life takes a sudden turn, and how you decide to keep moving forward.

A moment that changed everything

In June 2019, just after finishing a run, Cassie found a lump in her right breast. At first, she was not worried. She had always lived an active, healthy life, running often, eating well, and taking care of herself. She never thought breast cancer would be part of her story.

“I didn’t think much of it at that point,” she recalls. It was not denial, but more disbelief—the quiet belief that something like this could not happen to her. Over time, though, that feeling changed. She started to sense that something was wrong. Eventually, she decided to have it checked.

The diagnosis came soon after: Stage 2 breast cancer.

Adjusting to a body that felt unfamiliar

For someone who had always trusted her body and relied on it, the diagnosis was unsettling. It wasn’t just about illness per se, but it was also about identity. As part of the treatment plan, she had to undergo a mastectomy to remove her right breast, which brought a tide of emotions she did not expect.

“It took me a while to accept it,” she says. “I felt like I wouldn’t be whole anymore.”

She shares this with a vulnerability that goes beyond the usual stories about resilience. Before she accepted her situation, she faced the question many women ask at these moments: why me?

Looking back, her perspective has changed. “Seven years later, my answer would be, why not me?” she says. She does not dismiss what she went through, but sees how the experience changed her. What formerly felt like something happening to her has become something she has grown through.

Endurance, redefined

Over the next five months, Cassie went through 16 rounds of chemotherapy, which she describes as “very difficult.” There were times when the mental and physical toll seemed overwhelming, and continuing seemed almost impossible. She remembers one treatment when she thought about stopping.

Still in that moment, she found something familiar to hold onto. As a long-distance runner, she had invested years training both her body and mind to handle discomfort and keep going when things were tough. So she looked at her situation in the only way she knew how.

“I reminded myself, I’m an endurance runner,” she says. “I treated it like an ultra race.”

Instead of thinking about how long the journey would be, she broke it into smaller, doable parts. One treatment at a time. One step at a time. She did not focus on the finish line, just the next checkpoint.

Running through the hardest days

While many might assume that treatment would mean pressing pause on all activities, including something as physically demanding as running, Cassie did the opposite. Throughout her diagnosis, chemotherapy, and recovery, she continued to run. Not because it was easy, but because it gave her something she desperately needed.

“A lot of people asked me why I was still running,” she says. “They thought I would be too tired.”

And she was tired. But running became less about performance and more about survival. It was the one constant during a time of uncertainty, something that was hers when everything else felt out of control.

There was also something grounding about it. While her body was changing in many ways, running helped her stay connected to herself, to listen, adjust, and respond. It became less about distance or speed and more about simply showing up, even on the hardest days.

When the end didn’t feel like the end

When her treatment ended, she still felt unsettled. There was no clear moment when everything was okay again. Instead, what came next was quieter and, in many ways, even more challenging.

“It didn’t feel like a finish line,” she says. “It felt like a beginning.”

Her body had been through a lot, even though she kept running during treatment. She found herself starting over, physically weaker and needing to rebuild her strength from the ground up.

This is a reality that is often not discussed in recovery. The end of treatment is not always a return to normal, but the start of a new phase that needs patience, consistency, and a willingness to begin again.

Building strength

Today, Cassie’s approach to fitness has changed. Running is still important to her, but it is not her only focus. She now includes strength training in her routine and is more thoughtful about how she trains and supports her body.

“I’ve learned that I can’t just keep running the same way,” she says. “I need to strengthen my body as well.”

This change has helped her rebuild physically and unlocked new opportunities. In the past six months, she has reached many milestones, such as placing in trail races, winning her category at marathons, and finishing HYROX, a tough fitness competition.

Still, she talks about these achievements with quiet pride, not triumph. They show her progress, but they are not the main point.

More than one identity

It is easy to see Cassie’s story as just that of a cancer survivor or an athlete. But in reality, her life is much more than those labels.

“I’m everything,” she says when I ask how she sees herself today.

She is a mother to two children, balancing parenting with work as a massage therapist at UFIT. She trains, she competes, she shows up for her clients, and she continues to carve out space for the things that matter to her.

“I wear many hats,” she says. “And I’m able to manage them.”

There is a bit of confidence in that statement. It does not try to define her by one experience, but instead accepts all parts of who she is.

Choosing how to move forward

If there is one thing that stands out about Cassie, it is her outlook. It is not just optimism, but a choice she makes every day.

“It’s a choice,” she says. “You can either let your struggles define you, or you can choose to rise above them.”

That choice is not always easy. It does not remove what she went through or make it simpler. But it shapes how she faces each day, with gratitude for things that might otherwise remain unnoticed.

“Even just waking up in the morning,” she says. “You learn to appreciate the simple things.”

A different kind of finish line

Cassie has spent years chasing finish lines, so she knows what they mean. But her experience with cancer has changed how she views them.

Not all journeys end with a clear sign. Not every milestone means closure. Sometimes, what seems like an ending is actually a beginning — a chance to rebuild, redefine, and move forward in a new way. For Cassie, strength is not about going back to who she was before. It is about becoming someone new, someone who has endured, adapted, and kept showing up, even when the way forward was not clear.r.

Maybe that is what a different kind of finish line looks like and not a moment of completion, but a quiet choice to keep going.

Holding onto what matters

For women facing their own challenges, whether it is illness, recovery, or a tough time in life, Cassie’s advice is gentle but practical.

“Do something you enjoy,” she says. “Just keep moving.”

For her, that meant running. For others, it might look different. A walk. A stretch. Time spent with people who make you feel encouraged.

It is not about pushing through no matter what, but about seeking new ways to reconnect with yourself, even during the hardest times.

Because sometimes, strength doesn’t come from reaching the finish line.

Sometimes, it comes from taking the next step.