On October 5th, 2025, Alise Houserman stepped onto the starting line of the Twin Cities Half-Marathon carrying more than just the weight of 13.1 miles ahead. Just a few days earlier, she had lost her dear friend and mentor, Terry, to pancreatic cancer. Every breath and aching step along the course became a quiet conversation with him: a way to keep his presence alive, even in his absence.
What made the race unforgettable were the thirteen voice memos recorded by Terry, family, and friends through the Rally app, waiting for her at each mile. Their words, brimming with laughter, love, and encouragement, lifted her when her legs felt heavy and her spirit wavered. With every mile, she wasn’t just running; she was honoring a friendship, carrying a life’s legacy, and transforming grief into purpose, racing for hope, for memory, and for a world without pancreatic cancer.
A Friendship That Became Family
Alise first met Terry in a completely casual and unexpected way. She was walking her dog, Ruby, when Terry asked if he could pet her. They quickly discovered they were neighbors, and what began as a chance encounter, what Alise calls “happenstance,” soon blossomed into a deep and lasting friendship.
Despite a thirty-year age difference—Terry was 66, Alise 36—their bond was immediate. Terry quickly became a steady presence in her life, and their families grew close as well. “We call it familyship,” Alise explained, “friendship and family, family you choose, and Terry was one of those once-in-a-lifetime kind of friends.”
Terry was also the kind of person who showed up. Whenever Alise, or anyone for that matter, called or texted, he was always there to pick up. “He gave of himself almost to a fault sometimes,” Alise recalled, “but he never bragged about it. He just was one of those really good humans you only meet once or twice in your lifetime.”
Beyond his generosity and reliability, Terry’s humor and quirky personality made every moment with him memorable. He had a way of finding joy and connection in the smallest things, whether it was meticulously sticking to his “unusual” routines—every Sunday morning he and Alise would stop by the same gas station for his bottle of milk, an energy drink, and what Alise jokingly called his “bunker” blueberry pastries—or simply chatting with strangers.
Terry would constantly make friends anywhere he went; he knew first names, last names, children’s names, even dog names of people at the gas station, the car wash, and AA meetings, where he was deeply involved in the community. “I’m not kidding you,” Alise recalled. “He just knew everybody.”
His kindness, humor, and boundless energy left a mark on everyone who knew him. “We all have our faults, nobody is perfect,” Alise reflected, “but Terry was pretty dang close, I gotta tell ya.”
A Mission in Motion: Turning Friendship into Purpose
In March of 2025, Terry received difficult news: he was diagnosed with Stage 4 terminal pancreatic cancer. But this wasn’t his first time dealing with the disease; he had originally been diagnosed at Stage 1 in 2022, undergone a Whipple procedure, completed chemotherapy, and had been declared cancer-free.
Alise remembers hearing the news of his recurrence as a shock. “I was blindsided,” she shares. It was devastating, and she knew instantly what it meant: Terry wouldn’t be at her wedding in May, or at her son’s future milestones—his high school graduation, the big life moments she had always imagined Terry being part of.
Even so, Terry faced his diagnosis with courage and calm, always thinking of the people around him. His strength inspired Alise, motivating her to honor him in a meaningful way, and she found that way through running.
Though she had begun running casually as a personal outlet, Terry’s rediagnosis transformed it into a mission. Running became more than exercise; it became a way to process her emotions, reflect, and feel close to him, and she set her mind on running the Twin Cities Half-Marathon in his honor. And, when she learned that Project Purple, a nonprofit focused on pancreatic cancer research and support, offered race spots for participants, it felt like “kismet.”
“I’m so disappointed that I didn’t know about Project Purple before,” she said, reflecting on how it could have supported Terry and his wife, Barb. “But as soon as I saw ‘A world without pancreatic cancer’ at the bottom, I was like, ‘Holy buckets! This is meant to be. Everything is as it should be.’”
After submitting her application in June and being accepted onto the team, Alise quickly immersed herself in Project Purple’s mission. “I started learning more about what they do for the pancreatic cancer community—it’s unbelievable,” she said. “The research, the transparency about where money goes, it’s all amazing. Now I won’t shut up about them!”
Training quickly became about more than just preparing for the half-marathon; it was a way for Alise to honor Terry’s courage and the friendship they shared. She approached each long run with him in mind, hoping that he would be able to see her cross the finish line, whether in person or virtually.
“That became my big motivator—it gave me purpose. Running and raising money for Project Purple gave me focus and motivation.” She would complete her long runs and then visit Terry and Barb, sometimes lying down in the other recliner beside him for an afternoon nap, the two of them resting side by side.
Unfortunately, Terry was not there on race day, having passed away on September 26th, six months after his terminal diagnosis, but this made Alise’s commitment even more meaningful.
“My motivation has just grown,” she shares. “Before Terry died, it felt personal because I had somebody who was fighting. Now I know what that loss feels like, and it just makes me hungrier to not let other people suffer a loss like this. It makes me want to sign up for 10 more marathons with Project Purple, to raise tens of thousands of dollars, not just $5,500.”
The Rally App
As race day approached, Alise came across the Rally app, an innovative platform that allows friends and family to cheer runners on in a deeply personal way. Through the app, loved ones can select a mile of the race and record a short voice message that plays automatically when the runner reaches that point.
The app temporarily overrides any music or audio so the runner hears the message in real time, creating moments of surprise, encouragement, and connection along the course. Afterward, all the recordings can be downloaded as lasting keepsakes.
Alise asked her family and friends to send in their voice notes through the app, reserving the final mile, mile 13, for Terry’s message. She wasn’t allowed to listen to any of the recordings beforehand; each one would play automatically at the start of its assigned mile, making every message a surprise on race day.
“I couldn’t wait to hear what they said on their voice notes,” Alise remembered. She didn’t know what to expect, but she knew that every single message would mean something special. That feeling was especially true for Terry’s message, the one she knew would mean the most.
She remembers constantly reminding Terry to record his voice note on the app, but he was nervous to do so. Alise teased him about it, but also made sure he understood how meaningful it would be. “Don’t be nervous—you could just read the phone book, and I’d be happy,” she told him. “I just want to hear your voice; I know it’s going to motivate me.”
He ended up recording it on one of the last days he was fully communicative. Terry’s wife, Barb, later told Alise that “he really rallied to get that voice note done.” Those words would turn out to be the last ones he ever spoke to her—Alise didn’t hear them until after he passed, when she listened to his message for the first time on race day.
Race Day: Running with Terry’s Voice
On race day itself, Alise approached the course with a mixture of nerves, anticipation, and determination. Every mile was a reminder of why she was running: not just for herself, but for Terry, for his family, and for the larger fight against pancreatic cancer.
Terry’s wife, Barb, was waiting at mile 1, a comforting sight that eased her nerves and reminded her of the deep bond they shared, as well as the purpose of her run: to honor Terry and bring hope to other families affected by this disease.
The crowd’s energy and the shared determination of fellow runners fueled her, but her focus remained on the voice notes she had yet to hear. Each mile offered a new surprise from friends and family, but she knew the most emotional moment awaited at mile 13, reserved for Terry’s message. “I was a little nervous about that, but I thought it was so fitting,” Alise recalled.
As Alise crested over Summit Avenue, passing by the Cathedral of St. Paul with the finish line in sight, the 40-second recording carried her through the final stretch, giving her strength when her legs and spirit were at their heaviest. At the end of the message, Terry rang his chemo bells, a symbol of triumph over cancer, which made Alise feel as though they were crossing the finish line together.
Hearing his words brought an overwhelming sense of closeness. “I knew I was going to cry when I finished anyway, but this made it feel even more final and meaningful,” she said. Surrounded by loved ones at the finish line, Alise felt the depth of the bond they shared and the purpose behind her run: to honor him and carry forward hope for others affected by pancreatic cancer.
“There’s no hope for Terry to live,” Alise said, “but there is hope in his memory, and in the fact that I can still make a difference and help Project Purple raise funds. It became a symbol of hope—for other families and for everyone being diagnosed each day with such a devastating cancer.”
Even in her grief, Alise found moments of joy and connection. Before his passing, she and Terry had joked about what animal he might come back as to show he was still around. When Terry couldn’t decide, Alise playfully chose an albino squirrel, earning a dramatic sigh and big eye roll from him. Since then, every albino squirrel she spotted brought a quiet smile, a laugh, and a comforting sense of his presence.
Terry had once described heaven to her as a perfect day, when everything feels just right. Running the race only nine days after his passing, Alise felt that same sense of perfection in the air. What had been predicted as a red-flag risk day unfolded beautifully: clear skies, comfortable temperatures, and, when it grew a bit warm, a gentle rain cooled her—as if Terry himself was playing a part in crafting the perfect race day for her.
The experience has also reinforced the importance of community. Running with Project Purple connected her with others who had faced similar losses and shared the same drive to make a difference. Crossing the finish line under her projected time gave her confidence to tackle longer distances, with her sights already set on Grandma’s Marathon in 2026.
Reflecting on the journey, Alise recognized the cruel way cancer steals time, but also the hope that organizations like Project Purple can provide. “I feel very privileged to play even a tiny part in a much larger mission,” she said. “Pancreatic cancer is devastating, and to have an organization solely focused on prolonging life and finding a cure is incredibly meaningful. I feel really special to contribute in any way I can.”
If you’d like to run or participate in an event of your own for Project Purple, visit our events page.
