Connor O'Leary
A Different Kind of Finish Line
Connor O’Leary’s Testicular Cancer Survivor Story
My name is Connor O’Leary. I was born in Seattle, raised in Utah, and from a young age my life revolved around cycling. I started racing competitively at 13 and worked my way through the ranks—from the USA Junior National Team to the U23 National Team—eventually earning a spot on Bontrager LIVESTRONG, one of the top professional development cycling teams in the world. By 19, cycling had taken me overseas, living and racing in Europe and chasing what felt like a dream.
Before leaving the U.S., I noticed a mass on my testicle and decided to get it checked out. I was told everything looked fine and was advised to come back in a few years. Relieved, I boarded a plane and dove into my racing season abroad.
At first, everything was going well. But over time, something felt off. I was more fatigued than usual and experiencing discomfort that I couldn’t explain. I chalked it up to an intense racing schedule and kept pushing. Eventually, the discomfort turned into pain, and I knew I needed a second opinion. I returned to the States and went back to the doctor.
The last thing I ever expected to hear was, “You have cancer.”
In an instant, my life changed. I went from feeling invincible to scheduling surgery and preparing for chemotherapy. I was shocked. I was young, fit, and had no idea I was even susceptible to testicular cancer.
After surgery, elevated tumor markers showed the cancer had spread, and I began chemotherapy. The infusion room at Huntsman Cancer Institute became my routine—seven hours a day, five days a week, watching chemo drip into my port. It didn’t fully hit me until one morning when I looked in the mirror, ran my hand through my hair, and watched it fall out into the sink. My mom stood in the doorway and cried. That was the moment it became real. I wasn’t just sick—I was a cancer patient.
During my second-to-last round of chemo, I was rushed to the emergency room with blood clots in both lungs. I nearly died. I spent almost two weeks in intensive care while blood thinners worked to break up the clots, leaving behind permanent scar tissue in my lungs. It was one of the scariest experiences of my life. Eventually, I recovered enough to finish treatment.
When chemo ended, the next challenge began: rebuilding my body, my stamina, and my confidence. Returning to professional cycling after cancer wasn’t easy, but with determination, discipline, and a completely new outlook on life, I did it. Crossing that finish line again meant more than any podium ever could.
Throughout my cancer journey, I was surrounded by an incredible support system. My parents were at the hospital every day. My sisters brought meals, played cards, and helped keep my spirits up. Their presence carried me through the hardest moments.
Cancer also reshaped how I viewed opportunity. I stopped waiting and started saying yes. One of those yeses was applying for The Amazing Race, a show I’d watched since I was 15. I chose my best friend—my dad—as my partner. We didn’t expect much, but to our surprise, we were selected.
Our first season ended early when my dad ruptured his Achilles tendon mid-race. Six months later, CBS called again and invited us back. This time, we won.
Winning The Amazing Race was incredible, but what mattered most was what it represented. Cancer taught me resilience. It taught me how to push through fear, uncertainty, and pain. Those lessons stayed with me long after treatment ended.
Today, I feel incredibly blessed—not just to have raced professionally or won a television competition, but to be a testicular cancer survivor. I’ve shared my story with organizations, schools, corporations, and communities across the country. I am passionate about making sure young men don’t ignore their bodies or dismiss symptoms the way I almost did.
Testicular cancer is highly curable, yet men still die from it every day. Awareness, early detection, and education save lives. I’m proud to work alongside the Testicular Cancer Foundation, supporting patients, survivors, and caregivers and helping ensure no one faces this diagnosis alone.
If sharing my story encourages even one person to check themselves, see a doctor, or start a conversation, then every mile—on the bike and beyond—has been worth it.