Interview Relay

Interview Relay 2nd Run: Stories of “Connections Between People” Born Through the Tokyo Marathon

This time, we introduce a story about Quan Do. He shares his story about the “flexed arm pose” and the profound lessons he learned from his father, a cancer survivor.

What My Father Taught Me About “True Love”

My father is a nasopharyngeal cancer survivor. Long before I ever laced up my running shoes, he taught me the true meaning of endurance and love.

Before he was diagnosed with cancer and went into the grueling treatments, my father was a strong man with an athletic build. One of my clearest childhood memories is of him smiling and flexing his arm for me, just so I could watch his bicep “muscle” move left and right. 

After his treatment, he became much thinner. That physical change remains etched in my mind, but it doesn’t bring me sadness. Instead, it serves as a powerful reminder of how much he has overcome.

Since his recovery, running has become the bridge that keeps us connected. I share my training updates, race stories, and the accumulation of small victories with him. Now, whenever I spot a race camera on the course, I do the same little bicep flex my father used to do. It is a quiet tribute to him—a way of carrying our connection forward in public, captured one snapshot at a time.

Your Story Is Not Defined Only by What You Have Lost

My connection with my father through running has redefined “strength” for me. This journey has fundamentally changed how I define strength. I used to think strength was purely physical; now I see it as persistence, humility, and showing up even when life asks you to live carefully. My dad’s journey taught me discipline without ego, gratitude without denial, and ‌steady courage rather than a loud one.

When I flex for the camera, it isn’t about “looking strong.” It is a reminder that I am running alongside my father’s spirit. It is a promise to myself to live in a way that honors everything he endured.

I want to bring that small flex—and the emotions behind it—to the Tokyo Marathon, where millions of people share the meaning of persistence and triumph. I hope to quietly convey what that pose truly stands for.

One message I want to convey is that “Strength can change shape and still be real.” Love and resilient strength are things we can nurture and grow. If you’re supporting someone after illness, keep showing up in simple ways – a walk, a check-in, a shared routine. And if you’re the one recovering, know that your story is not defined only by what you lost, but by the life you keep building.