Patrick Concepcion: The Running Man

Nothing can put a good runner down.

Not even cancer.

Raul Patrick Concepcion, executive vice president at the service department of Concepcion Durables Inc., has been running since 1980. He has logged in, so far, 122,320.68 kilometers (km), covering the Philippines and some parts of the world. 

On June 11 this year, Patrick, 58, was diagnosed with an early stage of pancreatic cancer. Running has fortified him that his spirit seems to be made of titanium – he will never break. Cancer will at times rob him of his strength but it will never steal his joy.

“I believe it’s because running to me is not a sport but a way of life. It goes beyond passion. Before cancer, I would run six days a week with an average of 15 to 18 km a day, averaging 90 km a week. At present (after operation), I run five days a week with an average of 10 to 12 km a day,” he told The Philippine STAR / OneNews.PH.

Patrick has joined 15 marathons, with the 1983 Vancouver International Marathon as his most memorable, with finishing time of 3:52:20.

“In 1980, I was in Vancouver, Canada. I weighed 220 lbs (pounds). I was eating potato chips while watching TV and the 1980 Vancouver marathon was being televised. I was amazed by it and the next day, I went for a run. It felt so good that I said to myself, ‘This is what I want to do for the rest of my life.’”

A hardcore runner, Patrick is tenacious; never tentative on his actions. Despite having a bout with cancer, he knows how to build his confidence consciously, constantly. His sinewy legs and his unperturbed spirit, as if on autopilot, demand him to run. He gives in.

“Ten days after I was diagnosed, I had a full laparoscopic Whipple surgery. The surgery lasted about 17 hours, I was told. The beauty of a full laparoscopic Whipple procedure is that it allows for a quicker recovery time. Two days after surgery, I was able to walk around my room and the hospital corridors. Seven days later, I was discharged from the hospital. Soon after, I started to do some easy runs. After a month’s time, I could run at least 10 to 12 km, five times a week at a relaxed pace,” he said, adding

before his cancer journey, he weighed 128 lbs. “I now weigh 105 lbs.”

Good days, bad days, very bad days

When he was diagnosed, he recalled, his running was still fine. Except for the minor symptoms he experienced, he could still function and run as he used to. Everything changed post-surgery.

“Then came (chemotherapy), which started eight weeks after (my diagnosis). Though it was diagnosed at an early stage, I opted to be aggressive with my regimen. I had a portacath installed on the same day as my first chemo session. I need a total of 12 sessions every two weeks with each session lasting for about 50 hours. To date, I am halfway done. Six down and six more to go,” he disclosed. 

“I admit I am a much slower runner now,” he said, his humility registering strength, if not prowess. “I have lost a lot of muscle density and I take a few stops to rest. I don’t mind that at all for as long as I can still run. My daily routine is still the same. I still go to the office to work on specific days and work from home on other days. I still take trips out of town and do my usual errands.”

With chemo, Patrick says there are “bad days,” “very bad days,” and “good days.”

A good day is when he can eat normally and move about easily. That’s when his appetite runs well, with food tasting like real food and not cardboard. “A good day is when I feel energetic and my soul feels so uplifted.” 

A bad day for him is when the symptoms of chemo set in. “The difference between a bad day and a very bad day is the degree of these symptoms – diarrhea, fatigue, nausea, change in taste, loss of appetite, sore mouth, stomach cramps, tingling and numbness in my fingertips and toes (peripheral neuropathy).”

He considers depression and the mood swings to be the hardest part of the battle. Sometimes he finds himself just lying in bed for hours, just staring at the TV remote control, hoping his brain waves can change the channel.

“Whatever the case may be, I always try to have a positive attitude. I am grateful for the good days yet I also appreciate the bad days because even though I feel like I’m at my weakest point, I realize it could have been worse. I’m still alive, still mobile and functioning. I just count my blessings. The bad days make you appreciate the good days even more,” Patrick said.

Faith-lifting journey

His journey with cancer is life-changing. It is also faith-lifting.

“I pray more often than I used to and I pray more intimately. I pray every day, several times a day. I pray for healing, I pray for time and sometimes catch myself making deals like I would like to live long enough to see my grandchildren. I cry every time I pray. In my prayers, I have surrendered my cancer to God. I leave it all up to him and will humbly accept my fate,” he said.

Cancer can easily make his world topsy-turvy for the experience, Patrick notes, can be ugly and exhausting, depressing and enlightening. Whatever the day throws at him, Patrick is emboldened by the runner in him – he fights. He goes for a run.

“I try my best to endure not because I am brave. I push beyond the limit physically and mentally not for myself but for the people I love the most because no one with cancer ever fights alone. They give me my purpose and my strength. They are the ones who keep me going.”

His tribe, his little army

The Concepcions are a close-knit, loving family. A son of businessman and industrialist Raul Concepcion and the beauteous businesswoman Menchu Concepcion, Patrick relies on his family for comfort and support.

“My family is my biggest supporter. They have been with me in this journey from the very beginning up until this very moment. They have never left me alone; they continuously help and guide me every step of the way. My strength comes from them. My family is my tribe, my little army,” he said.

“I did not want to tell my mom initially because I know how it would break her heart especially knowing that she has another son with cancer again. (His brother Robie was also diagnosed of pancreatic cancer years ago.) I did not want her to worry but I also did not want to keep it from her. Though she was affected initially, she is now taking it in stride,” he added.

When Patrick told his two daughters – Patricia, 28, married to Mitch Montgomery and currently living in Arizona; and Francesca, 22, years old, who is now in Atlanta for her studies – they broke down.

“When I broke the news to them, it was quite emotional, lots of tears and the pain we shared was unbearable. We talk almost every day and send messages often. They can be so makulit they want to know everything. Despite the distance, they want to walk with me through this journey. Hopefully, they will be coming home for the holidays,” he said.

The other biggest boost comes from “that one person” in his life “who has stood by me even with all my crap and all,” Patrick bared. “Someone who has the ability to lift me up and who can also put me in my place with no excuses...a true warrior, my saving grace.”

Patrick’s take away from his experience

“While this can be one of the most terrifying times of my life, it is also one of the most clarifying. Nowadays I tend to live with more awareness of what’s truly important and what my ultimate priorities are,” he said.

It may be daunting for Patrick to fathom what lies ahead, but he runs it one course at a time.

“I will keep moving forward. I will focus on the here and now and I will make every moment count. For those who have fallen, I believe there is a special place in heaven for them. For those who are still fighting, keep the faith. Never give up. Easy to say, I know, for the struggle is all too real. At the end of the day, what choice do we really have? Such is the nature of pancreatic cancer–it’s tough to diagnose, tough to treat and tough to research. We just need to get tougher,” he concluded.

Patrick, the running man, will still run. Nothing can put a good runner down.