Oh hello!

I'll keep this as brief as possible — though if you have time, I’d really appreciate you reading it. The most important thing I want people to take away is this:

Cancer can impact anyone.

You don't have to read it all — feel free to jump to the parts that speak to you.

Why this?

If this page convinces just one person to go for a colonoscopy (or any cancer screening), then it will have been worth it.

I never took my health seriously. I ignored the signs — because “it’s probably nothing.” But it wasn’t.

If I had accepted the outcome of my first two GP visits and not pushed for a colonoscopy, it’s likely my cancer would only have been found after it had spread to my liver or lungs (the first places bowel cancer typically spreads).

I’m under 50. In the UK, screening for bowel cancer starts at 50.

To this day, we don’t know what made me so adamant about getting that colonoscopy. I wasn’t in pain. I wasn’t fatigued. I hadn’t lost weight. I was running 100+ km a month. But something pushed me to pursue it — and that persistence saved my life.

My story

After losing my mom to breast cancer in 2009 (or rather, she passed away from glioblastoma), I thought that was the end of cancer in my life. Sadly, it wasn’t. Her mother and sister also passed away from breast cancer before she did.

In October 2024, the week after my daughter’s 1st birthday, I was diagnosed with Stage 3 rectal cancer.

Just a few months earlier, I had run:

- My fastest marathon at Manchester (3:51), and

- The 87 km Comrades Marathon in South Africa.

I thought I was the healthiest I had ever been — I wasn’t.

One of my first thoughts was: “Of course I’d get bum cancer.” (My wife detests that joke.)

At the time, our three-year-old referred to my cancer as “the little ball in my stomach.” She didn’t understand why the medicine made me so tired.

My treatment plan was:

- 6 rounds of FOLFIRINOX chemo (three drugs, infused every two weeks),

- 25 rounds of chemoradiation,

- Then surgery.

I was fortunate. My tumour responded extremely well and I was therefore able to skip the chemoradiation and go straight for surgery, which removed 25cm of bowel. The pathology showed:

- Clear margins, and

- Only 1 out of 63 lymph nodes tested positive.

The term “remission” isn’t commonly used anymore, but I was now “NED” — No Evidence of Disease.

Still, I wanted to give this everything I had. So I’m now undergoing adjuvant chemotherapy (CapOx), with 4 more rounds of treatment to ensure we’ve done everything possible.

As I write this in June 2025, I’m almost halfway through that final stretch.

Finally - Its worth saying here, the level of support we have received from friends, family, neighbours has been amazing - the support from my employer has been incredible throughout my diagnosis and treatment - the support I have received from all levels has meant more to me and my family than I could describe.

What does running mean to me?

Exactly 4 weeks after surgery, my surgeon gave me the green light to run again — I went for a run that same night.

I’m not particularly fast or talented. I started running to stay healthy. But once I couldn’t do it, I realised how much it meant to me — and how much of life I’d taken for granted.

I run when I’m stressed, when I’m happy, when I’m grieving, when I need to clear my head.

Running is how I cope.

During chemo, I was able to maintain some fitness — though chemo made winter running brutal (cold sensitivity, nerve pain). I wanted to keep going.

This year, I watched the Manchester and Comrades Marathons on TV. It was emotional. I know the indescribable feeling of crossing those finish lines — and I watched them wondering, what if I never get to do that again?

The bigger picture

I’m a Christian, though not always a very active one. When I was diagnosed, the prayers started. 99% of them weren’t for me — they were for my wife and kids.

I’ve reflected a lot on what matters. I genuinely believe that God played a role in the weird, out-of-character insistence that I get a colonoscopy, a deeply uncomfortable procedure no one wants to talk about — one that saved my life.

I don’t know what the rest of my life will hold. But I believe I have more to do, and that I want to help people.

Why raise money & awareness?

I’m fundraising for Bowel Cancer UK because they are the UK’s leading bowel cancer charity — and their mission aligns perfectly with mine: to save lives and improve the lives of everyone affected by this disease.

They:

- Fund targeted research,

- Provide expert information and support,

- Educate the public and professionals,

- Campaign for early diagnosis and best-in-class treatment.

How your donation could help:

- £10 could deliver a cancer awareness talk

- £25 could provide an hour of nurse support via “Ask the Nurse”

- £50 could support work to improve national bowel screening

By donating today, you’ll help Bowel Cancer UK bring us closer to a future where no one dies of bowel cancer.

How I plan to raise money:

- Abingdon Marathon – October 2025 (I'm on a waiting list here!)

- Paris Marathon – April 2026

- London Marathon – April 2026 (2 weeks after Paris!)

- 4x4x48 Challenge – September 2025: Running 4 miles every 4 hours for 48 hours (total of 52 miles). I’ll be asking people to sponsor a run or an individual mile, and to join me for individual runs!

- You can follow along on Strava as I train in the run-up to Paris and London in April 2026

Thanks for reading along, and thanks for your consideration with this fundraising!