It was boarding the plane to the Arctic Circle in thick snow two days before the tenth anniversary of my breast cancer surgery that I allowed myself to believe that I would make it to my 10-year clear celebration.
On 21 April, I, along with nine friends and two more as support crew, climbed inside a London Bus costume, dressed as everyday heroes and spent six hours 32 minutes and five seconds sweating side by side along the iconic London Marathon course, while trying desperately not to trip each other up.Having run – or more accurately marched – around the course on a healing but angry stress fracture in my left foot, I should probably be resting right now.
I’m a self-confessed ‘endurance try hard’ because I move my body not just to reclaim control of that body, but to give back to the charities that helped me find a way to smile through serious illness.
At a recent charity fashion show event for Breast Cancer Now, the specialist nurse who greeted me in the waiting room on that dark diagnosis day came bounding up to me with the biggest smile. I hadn’t seen her in a decade.She explained that the pink heart I made for her still hung on her wardrobe even now. It was my tiny thank you. My tiny gesture of kindness. A gesture she hadn’t forgotten.