Mighty Mazwin: She beat cancer twice — then ran 42km for a cause

New Straits Times

20-07-2025

"CANCER taught me how to live," Mazwin Mohd Radli tells me matter-of-factly.
It sounds like a contradiction; that something so deadly could breathe new life into a person. But Mazwin is living proof that even in the shadow of illness, life not only goes on — it can thrive.
For her, that new life came with a pair of running shoes and the feeling of wind against her face.
On July 13, with a time of 6 hours, 7 minutes and 40 seconds — and surrounded by cheering friends, fellow survivors and members of the Breast Cancer Welfare Association (BCWA), including its president Kim Lim and secretary Liew Swee Lee, both breast cancer survivors themselves — the 45-year-old crossed the finish line of the SCORE KL Marathon, completing the full 42 kilometres.
For Mazwin, this wasn't just a marathon; it was a deeply personal celebration of 10 years since her breast cancer diagnosis, and a tribute to the strength, faith and resilience that carried her through.
But even a milestone like that comes with caution. In the world of cancer, "remission" doesn't always mean the danger is gone. Clear scans offer hope, but never certainty — not when rogue microscopic cells could still be hiding, silent and unseen. It's a shadow Mazwin has learnt to live with.
Just as she was preparing to mark a decade since her breast cancer diagnosis, another blow came. A routine check-up meant to celebrate 10 years of survival instead revealed thyroid cancer.
She underwent a total thyroidectomy — surgery to remove the entire thyroid gland, which plays a key role in regulating the body's metabolism, heart rate and temperature. The procedure means Mazwin now relies on daily hormone medication for the rest of her life. Still, she refused to let the diagnosis derail her.
"Healing after surgery and getting ready for the marathon was really hard," she admits, adding: "But I told myself I had to keep going… for me, for everyone fighting like I did and for the cause that means so much to me."
She ran anyway — and raised over RM17,500 for the Breast Cancer Welfare Association through her campaign, Mighty Mazwin's Marathon. It's the same organisation where she now volunteers, continuing to give back with the same grit that carried her across the finish line.
The mother of three, wearing a simple tudung and glasses, smiles at me. But there's something behind that smile — a tenacity, like someone who's been through a lot and come out stronger.
She watches me keenly for a moment, before remarking: "When I was diagnosed with cancer, I remember my boss telling me, 'Mazwin… I'm glad it was you who got it. You're strong enough to fight this.'"
She chuckles at the memory and adds dryly: "I was a bit shocked. I said, 'Wait, are you actually happy I got cancer?' But I think what she meant was, if anyone could face this head-on and fight this disease, it'd be me. Still, I never let her forget she said that!"
That strength, she says, comes from her family — from a childhood shaped by hardship and resilience.
Mazwin grew up in northeastern Selangor, near Tanjung Malim, Perak. Her father took on whatever jobs he could find, while her mother worked as a rubber tapper.
As the seventh of 11 children, she remembers how tight money was and how everyone had to pitch in just to get by.
"I remember my father working at the kapal korek (the tin dredge) for a while, and later as a security guard. He had to travel all the way to Kuala Lumpur for work," she recalls.
People often assume Mazwin used to run in school — a fair guess, she admits, given how much she runs now. But she shakes her head. "I loved running. But no, I never joined any sports. It would've meant asking my parents for money to buy sports shoes and I didn't want to burden them."
Schooling was basic, limited to the essentials with no room for extras. "I avoided anything that would cost money," she says, adding: "Whether it was school trips, activities or anything outside the classroom… if it wasn't compulsory, I didn't go."
That same consideration guided her decisions after school. Confides Mazwin: "I wanted to study medicine. I got a place to do Foundation in Science, but I knew my father couldn't afford it, so I turned it down."
Instead, she looked for opportunities that came with financial support. She landed a spot at Pantai Hospital, which offered her a job and sponsored her diploma in Pharmacy. It was a practical choice that allowed her to work, learn and ease the financial burden on her family all at once.
FIRST DIAGNOSIS
Life carried on. She worked, got married, had children. It seemed ordinary, even uneventful. Then one day, as she absentmindedly ran her hand across her left breast, she felt a lump. Everything changed.
"I couldn't sleep the whole night," shares Mazwin, adding: "The next day, during my lunch break, I went to see the doctor. After the ultrasound and mammogram showed a suspicious shadow, I went for a biopsy the following week."
The call came a week later. When the doctor asked her to bring her husband, Mazwin knew it could only mean bad news. "My husband couldn't make it, so I brought a friend instead," she says.
The news was devastating — it was cancer. She needed to schedule an operation immediately. The moment she stepped out of the consultation room, Mazwin broke down in tears. She recalls: "All I could think about were my children. My youngest was only two."
The operation was set for the following week. "It was frightening," she admits, adding: "But I'm grateful my friend — the same nurse who came with me to hear the diagnosis — was there in the operating theatre. Just knowing she was nearby gave me strength."
The operation was a success. The cancer hadn't spread to her lymph nodes, and the doctor told her they'd managed to remove everything. It was a huge relief, but the road ahead was still daunting. Mazwin would have to go through both chemotherapy and radiotherapy.
"I tried to stay strong, but inside, I was terrified," she admits, adding: "I kept thinking about my children and whether I'd be there to watch them grow up. That scared me the most."
PAINFUL RECOVERY
Her first chemotherapy session was especially difficult. It fell around the same time as her children's sports day. "My children were so young, and I was missing out on memories," she says wistfully.
She'd hoped to be there, to cheer them on from the sidelines. But the doctor advised against it. With her immune system weakened, the crowd and the heat would have been too much.
The same friend who had sat beside her in the doctor's office when she first received the diagnosis, and stood by her in the operating theatre, was also there during her first cycle of chemotherapy — quietly offering support just by being present.
The side effects of chemotherapy hit her hard. The nausea was debilitating and relentless.
Remembers Mazwin: "It was difficult. Just as I'd start to recover from one cycle, it would be time for the next, and the whole wave of discomfort and extreme nausea would start all over again."
By the third cycle, Mazwin was at her breaking point. "I remember hiding under the blanket and crying," she recalls quietly. "I felt like giving up."
Soon, her hair began to fall. But it wasn't just the hair loss that was difficult; it was the pain that came with it. "Every strand felt like needles poking through my scalp. It was hot and painful," she recalls, adding: "Eventually, I shaved it all off."
The side effects didn't stop there. Swallowing became painful, her muscles and joints ached constantly. Shares Mazwin: "There were days I just couldn't sit up or even get out of bed. My body felt like it had given up."
ROAD TO HEALING
Mazwin soon realised that recovery was not just about medicine and treatment. It required a different kind of strength — one that had to come from within. "I had no appetite, but I had to force myself to eat," she says, adding: "Even when the food made me feel sick, I knew my body needed it to heal."
She started taking food she never liked before. Milk, protein powder and nutritional supplements became part of her daily routine. "I couldn't be fussy. I had to make myself eat, even when I didn't feel like it. I told myself this was part of the fight."
Learning to care for herself was one of the hardest lessons. For someone who'd always put others first, it felt unfamiliar and difficult.
But her health struggles were far from over. A year after completing chemotherapy and radiotherapy, Mazwin was diagnosed with tuberculosis in her lymph nodes.
She explains: "My body was still weak after all the treatments. That made it easier for me to fall sick." She had a lingering fever and noticed a painful lump under her armpit that kept growing. By the time she saw the doctor, it had reached the size of a tennis ball. "I had to take TB medication for a whole year," she shares.
Surgery was needed to remove the infected lymph node. Afterwards, she experienced restricted movement in her arms — another challenge to adapt to in her already demanding recovery.
Just when she thought the worst was behind her, another scare came. During a routine check-up, doctors spotted a shadow in her right breast. Her heart sank. Once again, she had to undergo a mammogram and biopsy — the same painful process that had first confirmed her cancer a few years ago.
"It felt like history was repeating itself," she sighs. The waiting was the hardest part. But this time, the news was different. "It wasn't cancer," she says, exhaling with relief. "I was so thankful. I don't think I could have gone through it all over again."
Despite everything she's been through, Mazwin remains remarkably unfazed. There's a quiet strength in her voice and even moments of humour. It was her oncologist who first encouraged her to stay active. "He told me, if you're feeling a little better during chemotherapy, try to exercise. Even light movement helps."
Smiling wryly, she adds: "It was only after I got cancer and started chemo that I discovered my neighbourhood even had a park!" Once she moved on to radiotherapy, Mazwin began rebuilding her stamina, one step at a time.
"I started running," she says with a laugh. "Then I got a bit ambitious and signed up for a 10-kilometre run!" From there, there was no turning back.
In 2022, she completed her first half-marathon and raised funds for the National Cancer Society Malaysia. By 2024, she pushed herself even further — tackling a 30-kilometre run. "I almost mati (died) lah!" she jokes, eyes twinkling with mischief. "But I finished it!"
Despite a recent thyroid cancer diagnosis, another operation and rounds of radiotherapy earlier this year, Mazwin remains steadfast in her outlook. She chooses not to dwell on the pain, but on the lessons it brought.
"Cancer gave me a new lease on life," she says gently, adding: "It taught me to take better care of myself. And it changed me — from someone who didn't know how to ask for help, to someone who now helps others."
But perhaps what speaks loudest of her resilience is the sound of her feet hitting the pavement. "Running reminds me that I'm still here. That my body, though scarred, is strong. And that every step forward is a gift," she asserts, smiling.
As a little girl, she couldn't afford proper shoes and never had the chance to join school sports. Running was a distant dream then. Today, she runs not just for herself, but for every woman who's ever been told they couldn't.
And for as long as her legs will carry her, "mighty" Mazwin will keep running — one stride at a time, chasing hope, healing and life itself.