The Challenge: 10 Million Steps in a 12 month period — 15/06/2025 to 15/06/2026

Current Progress: 4.6 million steps — more than twice the length of the United Kingdom. (My hamstring is drafting a formal complaint.)

I'll be posting videos and photos of my hikes on Instagram from january 2026 for the 2nd half of the challenge.

Instagram: Burrillliant

My Story

In January 2016, I was diagnosed with myxoid liposarcoma — a rare cancer with a name that sounds like a rejected Pokémon. They found a large tumour in my thigh, hit it with five weeks of daily radiotherapy, and then removed it — along with a decent chunk of what used to be my favourite leg!

I was told I’d be lucky if my hamstring ever worked properly again. Apparently, they don’t grow back — which feels like a design flaw. The message was basically: “You’ll have a leg, but don’t expect it to do anything athletic. Or useful.”

When they told me I had cancer, my very first response was: “Will I still be able to play football?”

Not “what’s the prognosis” or “am I going to die.” Just football. The nurse looked at me like I’d misunderstood the assignment. I hadn’t. My priorities were simply in order.

The years that followed were… elegant chaos. My leg would randomly give up like it had better things to do. I fell over a lot. Gained weight. Got depressed. I bought very expensive chairs, hoping one of them might magically fix everything. Spoiler: they did not. I also bought a BMW 330e for “seat comfort” reasons. (Still stand by it. Technically.) At work, I hoarded so many pillows the staff built a cushion tower on my chair to mock me. It was majestic. I wish I took photos.

Despite operating on roughly 1.75 legs and the mobility of a sleepy shopping trolley, I didn’t stop. I trained, adapted, and created a workaround for every twitch, wobble, and collapse. Eventually, I started climbing mountains — literally — and even playing football again (somewhat aggressively, mostly upright).

So now, in true overcompensatory fashion, I’m walking 10 million steps — one million for every year I’ve been cancer-free — finishing on June 15th, 2026: my 10-year cancerversary.

I’ve actually held off sharing this challenge until now because I wanted to prove to myself I could truly do it. I’m closing in on 5 million steps — halfway — so it finally feels like the right time to open the fundraiser.

This isn’t just a fundraiser.

It’s a middle finger to the statistics, a sarcastic shuffle toward self-redemption, and a tribute to everyone still fighting the good fight (preferably with better hamstrings than mine).

Never give up. Never surrender. And always stretch before limping.

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Where the Money Goes and Why It Is Important To Me.

I’m doing this walk mainly because I can — and because someone once said I probably couldn’t.

But while I’m stubbornly hobbling across the UK one million steps at a time, I’m also raising funds for children’s leukaemia research, a cause that matters to me for one simple, painful reason.

Louie, a lad from Poulton, was a friend of my son’s and one of the kids I briefly coached. He passed away far too young. His fight — and the love around him — stayed with me. I’ll never forget his smile. I’ll never forget how he said “thank you” after every training session. And I’ll always remember how, instead of showing off like many others, he’d ask, “What can I do to get better?”

So I’m supporting Louie’s Research Fund through the Children’s Cancer and Leukaemia Group.

They fund vital research into childhood cancers and provide support for children and families affected by them.

If my ridiculous, slightly wonky march can raise some money for that battle, I’ll take the blisters (update: so, so many blisters 😭).

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Follow My Steps

I’m logging every step on a Fitbit Versa 4 — a watch smart enough to know when I’m walking… and when I’ve face-planted in a park.

Expect updates, memes, milestones, questionable footwear, and the occasional self-pitying moan. Live step count coming soon (as soon as I figure out how to connect it without breaking something).

And for reasons I can’t fully explain, every 1 million steps I celebrate by visiting Hickories and taking a photo — because if you’re going to limp around the UK, you might as well make it scenic.

Moon-distance comparisons may be exaggerated.

Limping is not.

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What You Can Do

I’ll handle the 10 million steps. All you need to do is follow the page — whether that’s here, on Instagram, or whatever platform you use. I want this journey to be one of positivity and resilience, a reminder that we can overcome the challenges in front of us: for me, for you, and for anyone else who needs it.

If you feel generous enough to donate, please do — but only if you want to, and only if you don’t need the money yourself.

Note: This page mainly shows step totals due to platform limits.

I share my full weekly reflections — including the physical impact of cancer treatment and the reality behind the numbers — on Facebook - Garry Burrill.

If you’d like to follow the story more closely, you’ll find it there. Thank you for your support.