My Dad

Cancer is something many of us never expect to have an impact on our lives. Growing up I was incredibly lucky to not lose any close relatives or friends to it, and for the longest time I thought things would always stay that way. In some ways you could have called it sweet ignorance, but it only made things worse when my parents finally broke the news.

When you hear something like that about someone you love so much it almost seems surreal, that you could go for so long being so lucky, and then when you are finally struck by reality, it hits so hard and so close. My parents are my role models, and I have them to thank for every aspect of the amazing life I am able to live. It never occurred to me during the time he was ill if I would ever lose him, he just kept saying everything would be okay, and I trusted him, even if he was a shell of his former self throughout the treatment. 

A year on and he's back to classic Dad, finding various ways to reconfigure the house, spend his days in the garden getting covered in muck and occasionally slicing himself open while attempting to recreate some Ancient Egyptian style mechanism. He's smiling again, my mum is smiling again, and everything is back to the happy, loving environment it is before, and there's not a day that goes by where I don't remember how lucky I am to still have my Dad.

Our best friend

The first time Alistair told me about his cancer I genuinely didn't believe him, and as with anything said in our group I made a crude remark trying to be funny. It's safe to say it took a few attempts from him for it to hit home that he was serious. Again what seemed like another surreal situation, but more so this time. When you think about cancer no one ever really thinks of someone so young being a direct victim, the idea that someone could be taken so soon is horrible. But there it was.

It hit our group hard, again because it was something none of us could have expected. Like any group of near-brothers we all felt it, because at the end of the day he's like family to us, no matter how much we all tear each other to bits. When Alistair went through his chemotherapy, we decided to help him feel a little less self conscious about his fuzzy egg head by shaving each of our heads alongside his. It's acts of cameraderie like this that make me so proud to be a part of such a great group of lads, and I like to think it showed him that no matter what happened we'd be there as his mates ready to help him and push him through the pain, and look like a bunch of Slav thugs while doing it.

Not only did he have every day to fight through every day to survive, he went through a major surgery and a whole course of devastating chemotherapy, beating his cancer not once, but twice. In the space of a year he's gone from a furry egg to a personal trainer, and anyone who met him now wouldn't have a clue about the fight he's had, such is his strength and optimism. That kid fought cancer twice and it hasn't left a visible scratch on him.

Why is this relevant to me?

With the current cancer risk at 1 in 2 people during a lifetime, so its inevitable that you, or someone you know, will develop cancer at some point. While there are several lifestyle changes you can make to lower your risk, cancer is in our very nature, hence we should be properly equipped to fight it. By supporting cancer research you fund the people who have not only helped to save Alistair and my Dad's lives, but millions of other lives across our country. You also fund the people who are working to save countless more, and who will one day lead us into a world where cancer is no longer feared. So please donate for your family, for your children, for your friends, in memory of those who lost their brave fight, and in solidarity with those who are fighting or who have a fight yet to come.

Any donation means a huge amount, whether it be big or small, just know that you're edging our society further to the day that we can beat cancer.

Thankyou for your time.

Extras

How am I going to do the 100k?

While I've certainly made leaps and bounds with my cardiovascular fitness this past year, going from pushing my bike up hills to running 10k's on the regular, I'm still no ironman athlete, in fact far from it. Hence the 100k will not be rowed all at once but as 10 lots of 10k. Regardless this is still a daunting task, as even at a decent speed of 2:00/500m, I would have to row for 6 hours and 40 minutes straight. I will likely start early in the morning (time TBC) and take small breaks between 10k's to refuel and rehydrate, as failure to do both properly will  result in a burnout before halfway with my muscles being unable to function properly.

(Time of start TBC) Date:20/07/17

What is the 24 hour ergathon? 

The principle of this event is that a team has to keep rowing on one rowing machine for 24 hours. One person does a shift, and at the end of it hands straight over to the next person after their final stroke. In our case we will just be completing the 24 hours, however we will record and release the distance travelled because why the hell not. With 12 of us ready for the event the current plan is that we will row in pairs for four hours, so one person will do 30 minutes, then the other does 30 minutes, rinse and repeat. We will be starting at 10am and finishing at 10am the following day.

Date:25/07/17