I was in the best shape of my life—six-pack abs, biceps, muscles popping everywhere. Friends, family, colleagues all thought I was as strong as a superhero.

But my body was sending a different message. Symptoms like gas, bloating, an uncomfortable stomach, and irregular bowel movements. I had no clue what was going on.

As a health and fitness pro, it was my duty to start with nutrition. So, I went through everything I ate, day in and day out. I wanted to make sure I was fueling myself with the best foods and figure out what my body was reacting to.

After some detective work, I narrowed it down to two culprits: milk or beer. Yep, those were the troublemakers messing with my system—milk and beer.

I gotta admit, I was secretly hoping it was the milk!

After wasting too much time, I figured I better see my doctor. Turns out, I had bowel cancer. Yeah, that was a curveball I didn’t see coming.

So there I was, post-colonoscopy, and my doctor drops the bomb: “You have bowel cancer. If you don’t treat this immediately, you’re gonna die.”

I looked at him and said, “Are you sure it’s not milk?” He said, “No.” I looked at him and said, “Is it beer?” He said, “No.” Am I joking about this part? Yes.

Devastation hit me and my life started flashing before my eyes.

My treatments included chemotherapy and surgery. I also had a temporary ileostomy and reversal surgery.

I felt like cancer took my fitness, my life, my strength.

But when I took a step back and gave myself grace and empathy, I was able to gain back myself, one tiny toddler step at a time. Try, try, and try again.