At 17, I went to A and E thinking I had indigestion.

I was told my heart was massively enlarged and I was on the brink of a major heart attack.

I survived myocarditis — many young, fit people don’t.

That’s one of the reasons why I’m fundraising for the British Heart Foundation.

With the guidance and unwavering support of my family and friends (a special shout out to Richard who has bravely offered to ride with me and help me train), we hope to make a difference and are very proud to be apart of this event.

For those interested, full story below.

Full Story

Firstly, thank you for taking the time to visit my page. This is the part where I explain why I’m supporting the fantastic charity, the British Heart Foundation.

Frankly, it’s because I was exceptionally fortunate. If I weren’t, I wouldn’t be here at all.

At the age of 17, I woke up one morning after a few days of suffering from a nasty cold with what I thought was indigestion. The pain wasn’t a burning sensation, more a dull ache slightly left of the middle of my chest. Stupidly, I put it down to something I’d eaten the night before.

My mum, however, wasn’t convinced. At breakfast she asked if I felt alright — “you look a bit pale”. I told her what I thought the problem was, but after some arguing and eye-rolling (on my part), off we went to see the GP.

As luck would have it, the GP had no appointments available and told us to go straight to A and E. I had zero intention of wasting time there. A fairly heated argument followed, with me insisting this was just some tough chicken from the night before. I eventually lost the argument (for the sake of my ears), and we went.

I was relatively happy sitting in the waiting room, though the dull ache was becoming more painful. After a wait and some blood tests, a doctor took us into a cubicle and told us to stay put.

Not long after, everything changed.

“Your heart is massively enlarged, and you are on the cusp of having a major heart attack.”

Panic set in. The pain was now almost unbearable. I was rushed into resus, given several injections (including blood thinners), a tablet under my tongue, and hooked up to what felt like the Matrix — wires everywhere.

I don’t remember much of the following weeks. My parents later told me there was a point early on when my heart was so enlarged it was rubbing on my lungs, and the next 24 hours were critical. A 50–50 chance was mentioned.

I had contracted myocarditis — a condition where the heart muscle becomes inflamed, making it extremely difficult for the heart to pump blood properly.

Recovery took the best part of a year. Thankfully, I avoided permanent damage, apart from a leaky valve and a tendency to develop pericarditis (inflammation of the heart sac), which is manageable with rest and anti-inflammatories.

Afterwards, I learned that many young, fit people die from myocarditis and its complications. It can be caused by something as simple as a flu-like virus and can happen at any time.

Beyond my own experience, I’ve known family members and friends who weren’t as lucky as I was — wonderful people taken far too soon.

That’s why I want to raise as much money as possible for the British Heart Foundation, so we can tackle heart conditions of all kinds and stop people dying unnecessarily.

Thank you so much for reading, and for any generosity you’re able to show.

And thank you, Mum, for being the nagging voice of reason. I genuinely wouldn’t be here without you.