Why I Built a Garage Gym After Breast Cancer

Breast cancer changed the way I look at my body, my health and what it means to be strong.

I was diagnosed with breast cancer at 39 years old. I was busy living my life, assuming my body would simply keep doing what I needed it to do. Suddenly that body became the center of appointments, treatments, decisions, fear and uncertainty.

Cancer has a way of changing your relationship with your body.

For me, part of rebuilding that relationship has been exercise.

And today, one of my favorite places to do it is my garage gym, a place I affectionately named Patti’s Palace.

Some women have a she-shed. I have Patti’s Palace.

It isn’t fancy. There are no attendants handing me towels, no smoothie bar and definitely no spa music playing in the background. But when I walk into that garage, I know exactly what the space represents.

I am still here, and I am still building strength.

Over the years, exercise has become about much more than what I weigh or how I look. I want strong legs that carry me where I want to go. I want the balance and mobility to remain independent as I age. I want to be able to get down on the floor and, more importantly, get myself back up.

I want to keep living my life.

That perspective didn’t happen overnight.

There have been different chapters in my relationship with fitness. I’ve challenged myself physically in ways I never imagined when I was younger. I’ve trained, struggled, gotten stronger, started over and learned that taking care of my body isn’t something I eventually finish.

It is a relationship.

And like every relationship worth having, it requires attention.

As a breast cancer survivor, I’ve also learned that surviving and living are not exactly the same thing.

Surviving cancer was something my body and I went through together. Living afterward has required me to decide what I want to do with the life I fought to keep.

Movement is part of that answer for me.

Some days I feel strong. Other days the weights seem heavier than I remember them being. Sometimes I am motivated, and sometimes Patti’s Palace isn’t exactly calling my name.

I go anyway.

Not because every workout needs to be extraordinary, but because showing up matters.

At this stage of my life, exercise isn’t punishment for something I ate. It isn’t about trying to make my body look 25 again. And it certainly isn’t about chasing perfection.

It’s about honoring what my body can still do and helping it continue doing those things for as long as possible.

That’s also why I call it a palace.

I’ve spent years telling people that your body is royalty. We only get one body to carry us through this life. Mine has carried me through cancer, treatment, recovery, work, challenges, adventures, setbacks, celebrations and more chapters than my 39-year-old self could possibly have imagined.

So yes, she deserves a palace.

Maybe your version of Patti’s Palace isn’t a garage gym. Maybe it’s a walking trail, swimming pool, yoga mat in the living room, neighborhood sidewalk or chair where you begin rebuilding your strength five minutes at a time.

The location doesn’t really matter.

What matters is recognizing that movement can be one way of saying to your body:

Thank you. Let’s keep going.

Cancer changed my relationship with my body. Patti’s Palace is where I keep building that relationship one breath, one brace and one repetition at a time.

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