Benny's Myeloma Diary

Mile 16 – Unplanned hills Or, in full, “do what you can, with what you have, where you are.” (Theodore Roosevelt.) Once, at the Brighton Half Marathon, I had convinced myself at the start that I could only manage half the race. My knee was playing up, and, since the route doubled back on itself, it would have been easy to drop out. Then a car pulled up by the start line. The driver hopped out, opened the boot and strapped on his prosthetic leg. I realised then, I could (and had to) do the whole thing after all. Last week’s spots grew into this week’s rashes, leaving me itching…

Mile 15 – Even ground. All runners look good in hi-viz lycra. The sun has got his hat on this week, and, therefore, with my heightened sensitivity to sunlight, so have I. Since my ridiculously huge hat (featured in post 13) attracts some ridicule (perhaps because it doesn’t have corks hanging from the brim), I have invested in a new fishing cap, complete with a neck flap. With that, and factor 50 sunscreen, I should be safe from the sun, if not from more unkind comments. The nurse spotted some new spots on my stomach while giving me my injections this week. They are also on my back and down…

Mile 14 – Undulating again. It may be useful to know what to expect in terms of hills along the course so you are not surprised by a steep one just at the end. The Edinburgh marathon starts with a lovely long and steep descent but bear in mind that it might not show the whole story. This didn’t warn about the gale force headwinds for the last ten miles, which went on to blow the roof off of Edinburgh Airport and lead to cancellation of the planes home. Familiarisation with the weekly routine helps me plan what I am going to do. This diagram below is something of an…

Mile 13 – Undulating. Once you finish a marathon, the organisers are keen to sign you up for next year with a discount deal. I have often forgotten the pain surprisingly quickly and been tempted by the thought of signing up straightaway to do it all again next year, and to save £10. I had coffee with a friend from the running club: a couple of weeks ago she and another member of the club completed The Lap, a 49 mile race around Lake Windermere, complete with steep climbs and ‘technical’ rocky descents. She had been finding that marathons were not enough of a challenge. Even though she missed the…

Mile 12 – Smooth surface and not many hills. Although sometimes marathons might go through some uninspiring industrial areas, they usually have some beautiful scenery to admire as well. Trail events like the Three Forts look across the South Downs, and Beachy Head has the Seven Sisters. Make the most of the views as you go along or you might as well be on a treadmill. As I’m growing accustomed to the routine of the drugs and their side effects, I am better able to take trips out, enjoy myself and relegate the treatment and the side effects to second place. The main issue this week is still the light-headedness,…

Mile 11 – Nice and flat. A few weeks back I was reminded of the foot and mouth outbreak in 2001. It lasted from February until September and had a devastating effect on the rural community, with the slaughter of more than 6 million pigs, cattle and sheep, and the closure of public rights of way. When the paths were eventually open again, my running friend and I headed back to the hills, me wearing full length leggings, him in his shortest shorts. Nearly home, we came to one last field, which was full of tall nettles, coming up to the armpits. When we decided to go ahead and not…

Mile 10 – Fairly flat but a change of route. A marathon is often an excuse for runners to buy some new shoes, usually a month or two beforehand to have a chance to wear them in. Perhaps a new vest too, with the runner’s name emblazoned on the front. I haven’t needed a lot of kit for myeloma. My first purchase, three days after diagnosis, was a pack of new underpants. You can’t go to hospital with holes or saggy elastic. After that I invested in an electric thermometer, the sort you put in your ear, which has proved very useful to confirm suspicions when I am feeling really…

Mile 9 – Gentle hills It’s hard to imagine just now as the weather is picking up, but give it a try. It’s a frosty February morning, and you are wrapped up warm as you head for the snow covered trails to start your long Sunday morning training run in preparation for your spring marathon. But every icy breath feels like you are chewing on silver foil. You have a toothache and you can’t think about anything else. Look after your teeth: use interdental brushes with lots of fluoride toothpaste, floss and brush at least twice a day. You can’t run with bad teeth! This week started with a visit…

Mile 8 – Back on course and it looks like a flat road ahead. To avoid thinking about the long way still to go, I would try to bring my mind back to the running basics, known as form. Keep my shoulders relaxed, lift my heels so my legs easily swing further forward, imagine a thread from the top of my head holding me up to keep me straight yet leaning forward a few degrees. Often I would listen to music at a fixed number of beats per minute helping me keep my cadence steady, left, right, left, right, breathing in for two and out for two. After a couple…

Mile 7 – Still off course in the hills but making good progress. Runners often set target times, typically trying to achieve a personal best. A ‘good for age’ time might help them with entry into one of the big races like the London Marathon, where 6,000 places are available (split evenly between men and women) for the fastest applicants who qualify by beating the target time for their age category. I would now have to be faster than 3:45:00. I have often aimed at the 4 hour target, hitting it once bang on 4:00:00 at the Edinburgh Marathon and breaking it once at Brighton in 2015 with 3:49:55. Some…