On Sunday 25th April 2027 I’ll be running the London Marathon on behalf of The Robin Cancer Trust. It’s a challenge I’ve always wanted to attempt (even though I am known to have signed up to multiple running events over the years and missed them), but I’d be lying if I said I ever expected to be running it for the reason I am.

That date will mark an end to, to put it lightly, a f***ing difficult and challenging two and a half years for myself, my family and close friends after being diagnosed with cancer.

This will also be the first time many people in both my personal and professional life will be hearing this news. I’ve been nervous about this, unsure on the reaction - acceptance and support? Shame and rejection? Either way, I’ve been keeping this to myself which plays a huge role in me wanting to take on this challenge.

When I get to the start line on the 25th April 2027 with nipple plasters attached and anti-chafe cream applied, it’ll be:

* 949 days since I first got told I had testicular cancer.

* 914 days since I got the all-clear following a radical inguinal orchiectomy (bye bye left testicle, hello larger new improved replacement!)

* 859 days since I had my first ever seizure which was at work.

* 852 days since my Mum had to make the decision on Christmas Day to put me into a coma in ICU due to ongoing severe seizures.

* 826 days since I was released from hospital.

* 712 days since I initially returned to work on a phased return.

* 558 days since I experienced readmission into hospital due to more seizures after I had to leave work for a second time.

* 502 days since I was told my cancer had returned 15 months later, spread into a lymph node and I needed chemotherapy.

* 495 days since I was told my seizures were linked to my cancer.

* 483 days since I started chemotherapy.

* 441 days since I had my final infusion.

* 410 days since I was told I no longer have cancer.

* 384 days since I returned to work, where I am today.

But the most staggering?

It’ll be 959 days since I lied to my own Mum (my own Mum!) about the reason I was going for a ‘check up’ at my local GP in the first place, after I noticed one of my balls was a little swollen and tender…

This is the main reason I want to run this marathon. I want to play my part in helping to remove the stigma, the shame and lack of communication men feel when it comes to health issues – such as testicular cancer. If I can raise awareness and support charities like the Robin Cancer Trust, I’ve done my job.

When I was sat alone in hospital in September 2024 as a fit, healthy, life-loving 31-year-old, I immediately felt numb and at a loss hearing that I’d been diagnosed with cancer. My mind raced off to so many negative places and immediately fear set in; how serious is this cancer and has it spread? What does this mean for the future? And ultimately, like most people unfortunately do when hearing the dreaded ‘C’ word, you do ask the question - am I going to survive?

I certainly didn’t expect that after the initial cancer diagnosis it would be nearly two years that I would experience such a toll mentally, physically and emotionally as well as a total twelve-month hiatus on my professional career.

Whilst I’m thrilled to say I’m doing well now and from the outside looking in people might not see me any differently, it’s been a journey.

And I’m not naïve, I recognise that there might still be bumps in the road to overcome in the future. But if the past few years have taught me anything, it’s to remain as positive as you can in every situation you find yourself in – and remember that your health is the number one priority.

So, I want to say to anyone reading this, if there is something that doesn’t feel right, please don’t hide it – talk to those close to you if you can, and go and get it checked.