25.Increasing the mileage.

Mile 22 – Another easy mile, with a downhill gradient helping me along.

You guessed it: if you want to run a marathon, then you have to practise running some long distances beforehand, gradually building up the miles each week. You don’t need to achieve the full 26.2 miles: if you can do 23 miles or so, then you will be able to run the whole distance on race day.

This has been a good week for increasing my mileage, both on the bike and walking. Having finished my five months of ‘Induction’ chemotherapy, I am practically drug free, and feeling better than I have done for over a year. I don’t have any target distances, of course, I am just trying to be as fit as I can be in preparation for the Stem Cell Transplant, but more of that later.

On Monday I went for a 30 km (nearly 20 miles) cycle ride, and it felt pretty good. I’m not far off the speeds I used to achieve around this route, so the time on the turbo trainer has been worthwhile. Just as I made it home, my bike received a compliment, as usual, when a driver wound down the window to say “that’s a nice bike”. It always happens. But no one says “nice cyclist”.

I cycled a similar distance on Sunday, heading out to the east from home, which felt hillier, although it might have been the strong breeze on the return journey, making even the downhill sections hard work.

On Tuesday Sue, our son Chris and his dog Lyra joined me for a walk around Shoreham, along the length of the boardwalk, into town and back, 16,000 steps at the end of the day.

Then on Wednesday I joined Burgess Hill Runners walking group for a wet five mile hike across the fields from Streat, around Plumpton, and back.  It was fun to catch up with so many friends there, especially as two other BHR running groups passed us, and I said “Hi” to them too. That night I was woken several times by cramp in my calves, which serves me right for not stretching properly.

On Thursday I met with friends from our days at Portsmouth Polytechnic, as it was then, for a meal in the evening, and a great catch up. We will have to head over to Bath to visit their neck of the woods once I can plan holidays further afield.

It was also lovely to hear from some friends who have moved to Cornwall. You may find this funny: Paul used to see on Strava that I had run up Wolstonbury Hill early some mornings, and feel bad that he hadn’t done so, while I would spot him running home from Brighton after work, and feel just as guilty I wasn’t doing that. I guess we both need some therapy.

Another running club friend came over on Friday morning, and we discussed clearing out the weed from our pond. She mentioned that Lidl were selling cut price waders, so I set off for my first ever visit to the local store. Sure enough, in the middle aisle, between the power tools and children’s clothes, there they were. A perfect fit!

Saturday was parkrun day again, and I discovered something that could be useful. I was marshalling in the corner at the top of the hill, clapping everyone on their way around and shouting encouragement. After about 50 minutes the last walkers finished, just as well since my hands were becoming a bit swollen and red. When I checked later in the day, I seemed to have amassed nearly 10,000 steps, although I had hardly walked any distance. I have checked since: clapping is as good as walking, as far as my sports watch is concerned.

We then went for a walk around one of the local National Trust gardens, for some real walking, and for lunch out.

—oOo—

I have my initial appointment in a couple of weeks at UCLH for the Stem Cell Transplant (SCT), so it feels like time to introduce you to the process. It is pretty complicated, so I’ll explain it in easy steps over the coming weeks.

As an overview, these are the stages:

1. Collect some of my stem cells.
2. Zap me with high dose chemotherapy, killing off the cancerous blood and bone marrow cells, but also the good ones, and wiping out my immune system.
3. Re-introduce the harvested cells, known as day zero.
4. Avoid infection for 100 days while my immune system regrows itself.

Stage 2 will involve the highest dose of chemotherapy that I have encountered so far, so I’ll be in hospital for stages 2 and 3, and the beginning of stage 4, for a period of two to four weeks (perhaps longer if I need it), where they can isolate me and deal with any infections that I pick up. They will carefully monitor my blood during this time, in particular my neutrophils, which give a measure of my immune system. Those will go down to zero about 10 days after the chemotherapy, and I can then expect to feel dreadful for four days or so, probably not wanting to leave the bed. Then, as soon as my neutrophil count starts to pick up, they will send me home where Sue can pamper me, and feed me healthy, germ free food in a sterile environment.

It’s during these stages that I’m likely to lose my hair (all over!), although it will probably grow back later.

If you haven’t heard of this before, it sounds like science fiction, but in fact this process was experimental in the 1970s, has been standard since the 1990s and it’s now the treatment of choice for blood cancers.

The purpose of it is to reduce the cancer cells to the extent that I have a chance of a long period of remission before, one day, the cancer inevitably builds up again and I need further treatment.

We have loads of questions about the process, and the practicalities of me being in a hospital in central London, so we have started a list. I hope the hospital team are ready for two sticklers for detail, and a late night.

For more details have a look at the guides from Myeloma UK and Blood Cancer UK.

—oOo—

A lot of people have commented on how positive I am being in this blog, which is a lovely thing to hear. Perhaps it is just my approach. This next Stem Cell Transplant stage is daunting, and I expect it to be difficult at times. However, if I look back at what I have been through so far, with six months of debilitating muscle aches, then the side effects of five months of chemotherapy – rashes, infection, fatigue, gastric upsets, light-headedness, and more aches and pains – I survived, it’s all in the past now, and I’m still smiling.

On Tuesday we were talking with Chris about his competition swimming as a youngster, when he won quite a few races by finishing the last couple of lengths without taking a breath, usually overtaking his competitors in the process. (If you are a swimmer, give it a try!) I said, “That must have hurt.” He said, “It was only a couple of lengths.”

So, in the same spirit, the SCT is going to be a challenge, but it’s only a few weeks, then I’ll hopefully look back on it as the price to be paid for going into remission.

—oOo—

You may have spotted Eddy Clutton in the news. Good luck to him and his wife. This has, of course, set me thinking about what challenge I could sign up for. I wonder if Sue will be like Mrs Clutton: “A willing conscript”?

—oOo—

Lastly, it was lovely to have a visit from our other son, Tim, his girlfriend Sarah, and her dog Bonnie.

I hope you have spotted and enjoyed the topical cinematic references. Thanks for reading and take care.