Alaska Pulse Magazine
by Michaela Goertzen
Lisa Keller is a survivor: from the ’64 earthquake to triathlon competition to breast cancer,
she’s lived through them all.
A hometown girl and East High graduate, she made a name for herself early on in the local
and regional running/triathlon community, and in her 20’s, she spent some time Outside
doing undergrad at the University of Oregon, and living and racing in both Telluride and
San Diego.
“I was your classic, uninsured, 20-something. I’m glad I didn’t get cancer then!” she said
facetiously.
A competitive athlete who did well in her sport, Lisa was named Alaska’s triathlete of the
year in 1996 and 1999, and in 1999, she won every triathlon she entered – both in and out
of state. All of which is only more impressive when you factor in her casual approach:
“My old boyfriend told me I was the world’s laziest triathlete.” When asked to elaborate,
she admitted to having stayed out at the bars until 5 a.m., and then racing at 10. “I was not a
hedonist.”
Hedonist or not, she was very successful, and came back to Anchorage for good in 1993 as a
healthy, active 29 year old, ready to invest in her hometown. She did so with gusto, and
over the next decade, was married, had two daughters, and took on roles as a cross country
coach, YMCA fitness director and Run for Women race organizer. By 38, she had a full life, a
small family, and no time to slow down for breast cancer.
But that year, Lisa noticed a lump in her left breast. After calling her gynecologist, she had
an appointment for an ultrasound and mammogram the following day. Her dad had
melanoma in the 80’s, and there was no reason not to be precautious. When the biopsy
came back verifying a malignant tumor, she called her father’s melanoma surgeon, Dr.
Roland Gower to schedule her own surgery.
That summer, Dr. Gower removed 26 lymphnodes from her arm – the first place the cancer
had spread, and where it would have continued to metastasize.
Naturally, Lisa recalls the day of her surgery being, “…a really nice day – a bummer to be
inside.”
But she hardly missed out. Absent from coaching for several days post-surgery, she
returned to cross country practice the following week and finished the season.
Unbelievable.
As her treatment unfolded, there were special risks involved: radiation of the lump in her
left breast was in dangerous proximity to her heart, and her gynecologist was concerned
about the onset of early menopause as a result of drugs she was taking to block estrogen
from feeding her cancer cells.
But Lisa had spent a life taking calculated risks, and she emphasized the importance of the
interaction she had with her health care team, who helped her assess each method of
treatment and associated risks along the way. She was grateful for the local medical
community that knew her, her family, and her record of health, and she attributes her
connection to the community to her great health care experience. She never felt like she
needed to go out of state for good care.
Still, no care team could eliminate the natural side-effects of a cancer-treated body – the
loss of hair, the loss of weight, and the loss of her left breast – so Lisa had her own creative
and unconventional way of coping.
Rather than become self-conscious or image-absorbed, Lisa tattooed a colorful sunburst
over her missing breast, and refused to have reconstructive surgery or wear a wig.
“Do not wear the flippin’ wig,” she urges. “People are so nice to you when you’re a woman
and you don’t have hair. People were nicer to me than when I was pregnant.”
But with two young girls at home, and a niece that was shocked at her hair loss, she wanted
to make sure they weren’t uncomfortable with the changes they saw taking place. So she
once let the three of them draw all over her bald head. She said it completely broke the ice
and was a non-issue from then on.
And of her missing breast: “Most people don’t notice. They’re so small anyway, you can’t
even tell,” she just joked, dismissively.
All told, surgery was followed by chemo, which was followed by radiation, which was
followed by a five-year regimen of medication. Throughout, Lisa praised modern-day
medical technology, and what she calls the “golden age” for cancer patients.
“I think we’re living in a really great time to have cancer,” she said sincerely – all due to the
advances in medicine that allowed her to battle and recover the way she did.
She is concerned for her daughters, who have cancer history on both sides of the family, but I gathered that it was something not so much to be feared, as to be monitored and
mitigated – like every other uncertainty in life.
Today, Lisa has an annual mammogram and no indication of a recurrent tumor. She is busy
with her triathlon consulting business, Multisport Training of Alaska; volunteering with the
running program at Hiland Mountain Correctional Center for female prisoners; and raising
her 15 and 13 year old daughters.
During our interview, I got the impression that cancer was a significant, but not life-
changing part of Lisa’s ongoing story. It was not even an intermission. It was an obstacle to
be addressed and persevered and overcome – much like a triathlon.
More importantly, I realized that being a cancer survivor is not what defines Lisa Keller
today. For her, cancer was one of a series of trials that the indomitable human spirit will confront and survive in a lifetime. It was a trial that forced her to face uncertainty, evaluate
priorities, choose positivism, and carry on with a life well-lived.
