What It’s Like to Get a Breast Cancer Diagnosis While Training for the Olympics

Here’s how track prepared Marta Pen Freitas to face this new challenge.

December 10, 2024

Marta Pen Freitas is a middle-distance runner from Portugal and two-time Olympian who is sponsored by Brooks and trains in the US, and recently revealed she was diagnosed with breast cancer as she was aiming to make her third Games. Here’s her story, as told to writer Cindy Kuzma.

As a professional track-and-field runner, my life goes by four-year cycles—it’s all about the Olympics. In September of 2023 I represented my country, Portugal, in the 1500 meters at the World Athletics Championships, a big accomplishment and a stepping stone which would position me well to make my third Olympic team in Paris the following year. But after that, I was hurt, in a bad spot with my Achilles tendon. I felt like I was heading into the 2024 season playing catch-up.

My team, the Brooks Beasts, is based in Seattle, but we go to altitude camp [a short stint at higher elevation to improve performance] in Albuquerque, New Mexico. My fitness was just starting to improve when we arrived there this past May. One Friday I went to the grocery store with my husband. I remember that it was super hot, and I touched the upper part of my chest and felt a lump.

From the first moment, I felt like something was really wrong. On the ride back home, I started tearing up, getting a little bit emotional. My husband and one of my teammates both assured me it was probably no big deal but that I should get it checked out.

When I went to the doctor the next week, she thought the lump might not be anything serious—after all, I was only 30. I had just done blood testing at the beginning of altitude camp and everything was fine. But she wanted me to get a mammogram to be sure, so I made an appointment for the following Friday.

That day, I worked out early by myself, running and lifting weights. I remember thinking, There’s an option that it’s not the best scenario—that I might need to get extra testing, or it might be something bigger. I wanted to be prepared for that.

The next week, I would learn that I had stage I, triple-positive breast cancer. That means it’s highly treatable, because it responds to hormone therapy. This summer, I went back home to Portugal to have a lumpectomy, then returned to Seattle to do radiation for a month. I’ll be taking a new medication, ribociclib, that was just approved in September. I’ll stay on it for three years and then we’ll re-evaluate.

Throughout all this, I decided to keep training for the Olympics. It wasn’t that I felt pressured—but especially with my Achilles injury, it took so much effort to get there. I wanted to keep chasing my dream. I decided cancer was not going to be the theme of the year. I didn’t want everything to stop because of this, unless my doctors told me I needed to stop.

I was able to compete in three more races, and I ran my best times of the season at the first two. But for the third, I was drained. I had nothing else in me, so I made the hard decision to stop. I didn’t run in Portugal’s Olympic Trials, which could have qualified me for the Paris Games. But I was at peace; I didn’t feel like I quit. To keep going, I needed to perform at a certain level, and I just couldn’t.

But I also feel like track and field prepared me for this moment. There is so much I’ve learned as an athlete that has carried me through.

Set goals, but don’t hang your happiness on achieving them.

I didn’t know if I would be able to make the Olympics after my diagnosis. But none of my teammates did either—no athlete does. We have this weird idea that we control so much, but really, the main thing we’re in charge of is where we put our minds and how much we are willing to commit.

Goals aren’t the destination, they’re the direction. You set them, then you do the hard work and see what happens. You might fall short, end up right at it, or even go beyond your goal. That’s the beauty of the sport—and life. You never know.

And while you’re pursuing those goals, be present and focus on all the little joys. A lot of the time we’re so focused on the way we wish things were, or on moving on to the next big goal, because we think whenever we achieve it, we will be happier. But we should not be holding our happiness hostage.

The losses might not be as devastating as you fear.

In April, just thinking about not making the Olympic team destroyed me. But this summer, I watched the Games, and it wasn’t that deep. I felt like, It’s not my moment. I’m more than an athlete, more than what I do. What I do is going to change in the course of my life, but who I am is only going to grow.

This was the first summer in 12 years that I didn’t compete. I was able to show up to my friends’ weddings, to be there for my family, and to meet a different Marta who wasn’t always on the go. This made me slow down in a way I didn’t think I would ever be able to.

I kept training, but I scheduled my workouts around my surgeries and my fertility treatments. I froze my eggs, and at some phases during egg preservation, I couldn’t do impact exercise so I had to bike quite a bit instead of running. But my mindset was different than during previous injuries. It wasn’t like, Oh, I wish I was at the Olympics, but instead I’m here biking. It was like, I’m here biking because this is how I’m going to be able to go to the World Championships next year. The opportunity that’s gone is gone; it’s about what’s ahead. That shift was powerful for me.

Honor your body with rest.

Just as when I’m training hard and logging about nine hours a night, I’ve needed a lot of sleep during my treatments too. When I’m lacking it, I can’t be as pragmatic, I can’t be as calm. Everything seems a lot harder than it is.

I’ve been doing a lot of acupuncture too, which helps me slow down—I’m typically very upbeat and always rushing into things—and just gives my body a little hug. It also helps with sleep and anxiety. I feel good about showing up for my body in a different way.

Use the “sandwich method” to manage mental health.

A coach once told me that when he has to say something hard to his athletes, he uses the compliment sandwich method: say something good, then something hard, and end with something good, because people are more willing to hear the bad if they get a little cushion.

You can also use this to get through hard things, and I did it during my exams and treatments. I would meet friends or go for a run with my nephew before and after the hospital, something fun or meaningful; otherwise, I would be fixated on the appointment. It’s amazing how well this works to balance out the low moments.

Lean on your team, but know that you have to do the work too.

When my doctor first called with the results of my biopsy, I was alone, leaving an appointment with my massage therapist. On my way home, I called my husband, my coach, and my athletic trainer, Sarah. Sarah, my husband, and I then talked to the doctor and made a plan.

Afterward, I told my teammates. I was honest, but also made some jokes. I told them I had breast cancer, but that it was caught at a very early stage, and that I would probably fix this quicker than I fixed my foot. I wanted to keep the energy positive. I even told them if they stopped during practice to give me a sad hug, I’d have to punch them. They kept their promise on that!

I’ve been working with my sports psychologist for six years now, and he plays a huge role too. But while therapists are important, they’re not going to save you. I always say he’s my housekeeper—he cleans the mess that I can’t clean, gives me advice on what I should throw away, what I should keep. But there’s a lot of work I have to do too to let go of what was and lean into this difficult time. Writing is one way I release things, for example. Our mental health is important, not just for us, but for the people around us. We need to keep investing in it.

Control who’s in your (metaphorical) locker room.

The flip side of that is it’s okay to set boundaries. You don’t need unsolicited advice, and it’s okay to withdraw from conversations that make you uncomfortable. I’ve had a few of these, especially around my potential retirement. Some people hear the scary C-word, they know I’m 31 years old, I probably want to have kids, the Olympic year is over. But they come at it from a condescending perspective, and my retirement is a decision for me to make.

It’s hard, because especially as women, we’re always trying to be polite. But even if you just listened and you didn’t like what they said, but let them keep talking, you’re still taking that home. Instead, you can say: “I respect your opinion, I don’t agree, and I don’t want to talk about it.” Or, “You have a lot of opinions, but I am not interested in hearing them, because they’re about me and it’s not helping me.”

It can sound rough, but I’ve really been tapping into it. It’s okay if people don’t agree with you. You don’t have to listen to them, and you can step away and save your energy. Think about it like the locker room—you want your coach, your trainer, the massage therapist. But you don’t want too many other people there, and you get to decide who you let in. If the locker room gets too crowded, you have to close it down so people can’t just walk in whenever they want and say whatever they want about your life.

Celebrate along the way.

When I finished my radiation treatments at Fred Hutchinson Cancer Center, I got to ring the bell—I brought a few friends and went crazy with it. That night, I got more friends together to ring another bell. I was buzzed for days; I was so happy thinking of my friends from so many parts of my life celebrating with me. I want to keep commemorating the little things. People think the big day is their wedding, and that’s it, but there are a lot of other good reasons to party.

I hope to have more to celebrate next year on the track. I am already having a comeback season—my first race back was on November 24. I don’t know where I’ll wind up, but I’m going to put everything into getting back to the world stage and running at the 2025 World Championships in Tokyo.

But I’ll have a different mindset as I see how far I can go. The pressure of the competition and this idea that you’re only worthy when you’re running fast and you’re only good because you’re performing—that’s honestly so toxic. Running is something that I do and I care about for me, not for anyone else. I know my body has been through a lot, and I don’t know where this journey is going to take me. But if I don’t try, I won’t make it, and that’s a guarantee.