Sidelined By Sarcoma In My Middle-Aged Prime

My personal health and wellness journey, and how non-alcoholic drinking became a significant part of my life (ESSAY).

By: Jon Eggleton, Founder, N/ATION

Shortly before turning 40, I went through a divorce and moved to a new community in metro Atlanta closer to the city. With two kids about to enter elementary school it was a rare mid-life opportunity to redefine myself for the next phase of life, and running became a major part of that re-branding. I had started a fresh commitment to running a few years before, but now it became an integral part of my self-awareness. My new neighbors and friends knew me as the guy out running, at the local gym working out, or kicking a soccer ball around with my kids. Before I knew it, my identity as the affable, active divorced Dad became set, and I admit I loved every moment of it. 

I had been a really good runner in high school, competing in both cross country and track. But while I generally was the first finisher for our high school cross country team as a senior, I was more of a star in a lower-case sense. Good enough to win my share of races and be all-conference, but not state meet caliber or fast enough to draw major college interest. Running for a program that had produced some elites I felt a degree of imposter syndrome being the school’s frontrunner, as if I were just a mediocre bridge in between better talents. But as a runner in my early forties with the benefit of greater life perspective, I carried no such baggage the second time around. Running was my muscle shirt, and race day mornings were my time to flex.

Through my early-to-mid 40s I racked up age group and masters medals galore. I competed with the top overall runners in many races, and won a couple of local ones outright, coming within forty seconds of my high school 5K personal best. Even when COVID hit and the races stopped, I felt like it was a temporary respite before the winning streak would continue. But toward the end of 2020 I began to feel some mysterious mild pain in my lower left chest. At my annual physical the following January the doctor ordered x-rays just to rule out anything serious, and told me it was probably a sore muscle that wouldn’t totally heal. But unfortunately it wasn’t, and within days of my visit I would find out the pain had been caused by a large sarcoma tumor buried deep in my chest wall.

Now, let me preface this next part by saying I am one of the lucky ones. While it was a large mass, it was considered to be low-grade, or as one doctor would attempt to explain, the good kind that doesn’t typically spread. Unaware there were any 'good' types of cancer the news still rocked me to my core, and my carefully crafted self-narrative of the very healthy dad was beginning to crumble. I never had so much as a hospital visit before this. The most serious prior healthcare situation was a toss-up between breaking my arm in the first grade or having all four of my wisdom teeth pulled in college. At medical appointments nurses would marvel at the lack of history on my forms. Major surgeries weren’t for me. Until I had three of them in just over a year’s time.

Shortly after my diagnosis I had the first of those procedures. The ‘big’ one first, to remove the mass and install titanium plates where a small part of my rib cage had to be removed. Immediately after surgery I felt extremely sore, but was so relieved to be done I felt like I could get up and do whatever I wanted. By the next morning I felt like I’d been hit by a Mack truck, and if lucky I might be able to climb out of bed sometime before summer. Finally, after three of the longest nights of my life, I left the hospital for home. Unfortunately titanium plates didn’t agree with my chest, or at least not the part where mine had to go. Two additional surgeries followed within 16 months of the first. Many more appointments, imaging scans, and thanks to hospital protocols, a bracelet collection that would make a Taylor Swift fan jealous. 

Suddenly the guy who never went to the hospital couldn’t stay out of one. Self-identity now completely blown to shreds, my medical history was no longer a blank space. But the worst part was yet to come. Unable to run for any length of time due to my ongoing surgical issues, I lost my outlet. I put on weight, saw much of my muscle turn to softness, and lacked the energy I once had. I went from the parent who would try and get things done after my kids went to bed, to the parent who needed to go to bed before they did. I wasn’t much fun to be around, and I withdrew from social situations. I felt lost.

It was right after the third surgery that I discovered non-alcoholic beer, which would become something of a lifeline for me. Like many people my age with a years-long relationship with alcohol, my drinking had waxed and waned. During COVID it was mostly the former, as it was something to do when there wasn’t much else. And when I initially recovered from each of my surgeries I would slowly return to the same habits, pouring a glass of wine or opening a beer after finishing up a day’s work. Sometimes one became two, and occasionally two or three became more. Regardless, now alcohol just hit me differently, and I needed a change. Initially I bought a six-pack of Athletic Brewing Free Wave IPA with the idea of rotating one or two with a couple of regular beers while hanging out with friends. As I began to try more, the NAs slowly started to outnumber the 'leaded' drinks in my refrigerator, up to the point where they mostly became the sole choice. And eventually, the health benefits began to pile up. Better sleep. Clearer mind. And a greater ability to focus on what’s really important in my day-to-day life.

I still drink alcohol on occasion, but my relationship with it has dramatically changed. When I do have an alcoholic drink, I focus on opportunities to do it with purpose. For me it’s the Marie Kondo approach to imbibing. Will this drink bring me joy? A glass of red wine with a nice steak from the farmer’s market. A spontaneous beer on the patio of our neighborhood brewery with my now-wife. Everyone has to find the right balance for themselves, or decide whether to even continue to drink alcohol at all, but I feel like a baseball manager who has figured out the bullpen matchups to get his team through all nine innings. Sometimes you need the lefty, or the curveball specialist, or, in my case, a non-alcoholic beer or drink to lead me through the vast majority of drinking occasions.

With my surgeries behind me I’ve spent the better part of the past couple of years trying to get back to past running form, or whatever the current version of that looks like. It has not always been easy. Injury setbacks, sore muscles, taking more days off than I’m used to so I can recover properly. ‘Live to run another day’ is something I’ve said to myself often. My running ceiling may have changed due to age and post-surgery realities, but I’m trying to think about that less and focus on the present. I can run regularly again. Maybe not as fast as I used to, but for just as long. I’m learning to appreciate the journey instead of the result on Saturday race mornings. Or what others may perceive my identity to be. The affable, healthy Dad is back. But along the way I’ve found my new normal and balance, with a life-changing assist from the non-alcoholic category that has become the portal to a healthier version of myself from here on out. And for that I am grateful.