Alex aka @majorballache
My Story
The story below as to why I’m running a marathon is a bit of a read. Whilst I'm hopeful that some of those who land here may even donate/share/advertise on my behalf, I’m self-aware enough of my literary skills to know that not everyone will make it to the end of this page. Some will succumb to boredom, others fatigue, but either way there will be casualties who don’t reach the end. For that reason, I’m posting two links up front which are certainly more deserving of your attention. One is for Maggie’s, the fantastic charity on behalf of whom I am fundraising and whose unique outputs I have witnessed the value of first-hand. Secondly is my personal blog (granted, a veiled second bite at the cherry for you to indulge this would-be writer). My blog has had a brief hiatus since I finished chemo, but I wrote it earnestly in the hopes that it might provide assistance, assurance or perspective for a stranger who might be in a similar predicament. It’s a full account of how my cancer was identified, my treatment, and whatever advice I could salvage that might make the next person’s ride a little smoother. I’m restarting the blog not just for people to follow my painful and comical marathon training (also on Insta: @majorballache) but for all the reasons I just mentioned. I’m ashamed to say finishing chemo made it all too easy to put cancer in the rear view and forget that for some people their own horrific journey hadn’t ended (or even begun). If you’ve read this far, maybe you’ll read a little further. Whether you do or don’t, thank you for at least arriving here.
If you’d asked me in 2022 whether I’d ever want to run a marathon, it was very much an entry on the bucket list that was its own end; I wanted to run a marathon so that I could say I’d run a marathon. Get a couple of pints in me and I’d admit that I actually had no interest in doing such a thing, because I hate running. I genuinely despised it, and still do. I’m not averse to exercise, but long distance running is not something I have a natural talent for, and something I find sinfully boring. For me, running is nothing more than a painfully frequent and necessary occupational hazard, or sometimes necessary to catch the last Tube and avoid a £60 Uber.
Fast forward to April 2023, I found myself at the start line for the London Marathon. Thankfully, just to cheer on a friend about to complete (in a sickeningly good time) another marathon for the insert-preposterously-high-number time. I was sporting a new haircut courtesy of the cancer and hobbling around on a walking stick my grandma had decided long ago just slowed her down (I’ll forever be grateful she kept it in the shed). As I walked home through the crowds I soaked in the atmosphere (Greenwich born and bred, I’d lived 33 years without so much as walking the 10 mins from home to see the start line let alone considered crossing it). Maybe it was the race day buzz, maybe it was home turf pride, maybe it was #chemobrain or maybe it was my maternally-inherited stubbornness convincing me to give the Big C an even bigger F-U. I couldn’t help but think, “How great would it be if I could actually take part next year? Not just in my first marathon, but almost exactly a year (54 weeks) after starting chemotherapy. Pretty great. Pretty instagrammable too..” Before I’d even got home, drained from the barely-1-mile walk, I knew that day I was going to enter the ballot for 2024. I even paid extra for the double ballot. I didn’t get a place. What a waste of £50, I could’ve bought three pints in London with that.
A few weeks after being mugged off by the ballot, as I was driving to the Royal Marsden for my first post-chemo scan, I had a phone call from Maggie’s saying my poorly worded application had somehow earned me a spot in their team.
I sit here writing this in September, having just received my orange Maggie’s running vest and finally accepted that I seriously need to get things started. Chief amongst my to do list are raising some funds and relearning how to run. I say “relearning” because my tumour, which has rudely decided to hang around, has left me with a few issues: some residual motor neuropathy in my leg (i.e. some movements still don’t work), sensory neuropathy in my legs and feet (i.e.constant numbness and pain – yes, those things can both happen at the same time!) and vascular issues (whenever I exercise my leg balloons up). I’m hard at work with physio but it’s pretty obvious I won’t be setting any course records. What I will do however, and I submit this to the archives of cyberspace and your future mercies to hold me true, is finish the marathon. Whether I run, jog, walk or limp, I will cross that line, and hopefully not on a stretcher or in an Uber. I aim to do it this time and in this way to prove that cancer, life-changing though it may be, can with time and treatment be relegated to nothing more than an inconvenience. Moreover, I expect to do it in such unathletic splendour as to convince others just how doable it is. So that’s it, that’s my story.
For those who are on ‘the Gram’ feel free to give me a follow (@majorballache) and keep current on progress. I promise if nothing else it’ll be entertaining and make you feel better about your own running abilities. For everyone else, thank you for making it to the end and whether it’s through sharing this story, donating to my fundraising page, donating elsewhere or taking the time to read this, thank you for your support.
