Imagine receiving a life-altering diagnosis at just 20 years old, only to hide the severity of your pain from those who love you most. This is the story of Yuli van der Molen, a young Dutch cyclist whose journey from a stage four cancer diagnosis to a triumphant return to the track is nothing short of extraordinary. But here’s where it gets controversial: How much should athletes share about their struggles, and does hiding the truth ever truly protect those around them? Let’s dive in.
It was a frigid January day in 2024 when Yuli’s life took an unexpected turn. Just 20 minutes after returning home, her doctor called, urging her to return to the hospital immediately. The scan results, which typically take a week, were urgent. Yuli, accompanied by her parents, rushed back, only to receive the devastating news: she had Hodgkin lymphoma, a rare and aggressive blood cancer affecting the lymphatic system. It was stage four—the most advanced form.
‘I just froze,’ Yuli recalls, her voice trembling as she reflects on that moment. ‘Then you go into survival mode. I cried a lot. You retreat into your own bubble.’ Despite being told Hodgkin’s is one of the most treatable cancers, the reality was harsh. Chemotherapy, hair loss, and unbearable pain awaited her. ‘I’m thinking back now, and I just froze,’ she admits, her eyes welling up with emotion.
Fast forward nearly two years, and Yuli sits on a plastic chair at London’s Lee Valley Velodrome, her right arm aching from a recent crash during a race. The dull pain, she insists, pales in comparison to what she’s endured. And this is the part most people miss: The physical scars may heal, but the emotional toll of battling cancer lingers long after treatment ends.
Yuli’s symptoms began in February 2023, almost a year before her diagnosis. While training with AG Insurance-NXTG’s under-23 team, she noticed a strange lack of power in her right leg. Soon, relentless fatigue, restless nights, and excruciating pain followed. ‘I never told my parents how bad it really was,’ she confesses. ‘I went to the hospital multiple times, waking up in the middle of the night, crying in pain.’ She points to her lower back and groin, explaining how the pain radiated from her lymph nodes. Misdiagnosed as a hernia or muscle strain, Yuli knew deep down something was terribly wrong.
Training and racing became a Herculean challenge throughout 2023. Out of 27 road race days, she failed to finish 10 and only cracked the top 30 once. Then, in December, she discovered a lump on her collarbone. A chilling memory resurfaced: her mother had been diagnosed with non-Hodgkin lymphoma over 20 years ago. ‘I Googled it, saw it was cancer, and thought, I think I have that,’ Yuli recalls. Her doctor’s reaction was unmistakable—a wide-eyed shock that confirmed her worst fears. That same afternoon, she raced in the Madison, placing third, before being eliminated the next day.
The new year brought hospital appointments, blood tests, and the scan that revealed the truth. When told she needed chemotherapy, Yuli’s initial response was denial: she had a training camp scheduled. Reality soon set in, and her first round began on Valentine’s Day, less than a month after her diagnosis. The treatment came in three-day blocks, with four cycles in total. ‘It was a big room with a lot of beds,’ she remembers. ‘I looked at the bags of medicine and thought, Is all of this really going into my body?’
With her mother, Esther, by her side, Yuli documented her journey through vlogs on YouTube. The raw, unfiltered videos—from her diagnosis and chemo sessions to shaving her head—have garnered over 11,000 views. One particularly heart-wrenching clip shows her injecting medicine into her abdomen, then breaking down in tears for five minutes. Yet, amidst the pain, there are moments of joy: trying on wigs, celebrating her last day of chemo, and a cancer-free surprise party captured in a 20-minute vlog.
Today, Yuli’s YouTube channel stands as a testament to her resilience. ‘At first, I couldn’t watch myself,’ she admits. ‘Now, I’m proud of the person I’ve become. I never wanted cancer, but it shaped me in a good way. Still, it sucks that I had to go through it.’
Just weeks after her final chemo session, Yuli resumed training, determined to reclaim her career. She returned to racing four months later in Belgium but didn’t finish. ‘Chemo destroys a lot,’ she explains. ‘My energy was gone, my racing spirit vanished, and my stomach ached from the medicine.’ It wasn’t until October that she began working with a coach again. She competed in the Six Days of Rotterdam, winning twice—an unexpected triumph. But physical recovery was only part of the battle.
In January, Yuli experienced severe panic attacks, triggered by the fear of cancer returning and never regaining her form. ‘I blocked everything out,’ she says. With the help of psychologists, she gradually regained her mental strength and was selected to represent the Netherlands at the under-23 European Track Championships. Despite a rocky training period, she placed fourth in the elimination race and won silver in the Madison with teammate Lisa van Belle. ‘It was emotional,’ she admits, ‘but I’ll never show it to my parents.’
Yuli’s arms now bear tattoos—‘survivor’ on her wrist and ‘never give up’ on her arm—indelible reminders of her journey. ‘There’s an older version of me, a cancer version, and now a new version,’ she reflects. ‘I’m different now. My mom says I’m more grown up.’
Two years later, Yuli’s cancer is in remission, though the fear of its return lingers. Yet, her excitement for new opportunities outshines her worries. This season marks a fresh start with the British Continental team O’Shea RedChilli Bikes and a secure place in the Dutch national track squad. ‘I may never be a big winner,’ she says, ‘but I’m measured in training blocks and target races now, not hospital appointments.’
Here’s a thought-provoking question: Does battling cancer change an athlete’s perspective on pain and perseverance? Yuli’s uncle, retired pro Niki Terpstra, believes so. ‘She’s more willing to suffer for her sport now,’ he observes. ‘The suffering she endured makes her current efforts seem small in comparison.’
Yuli’s story isn’t just about survival—it’s about transformation, resilience, and the power of sharing one’s truth. What do you think? Should athletes like Yuli keep their struggles private, or does openness inspire others? Let’s continue the conversation in the comments.
