Before cancer, running was my therapy. It was where I found my breath when life felt too heavy. Every mile I ever logged oh & I have achieved many, gave me space to think, to let go, to feel free. It didn’t matter what kind of day I had—once my feet hit the ground, everything else seemed to fall into place. I ran to challenge myself, to connect with my body, to fundraise for various charities and to clear the mental clutter that would often threaten to drown me.
Then cancer came.
The diagnosis turned my world upside down and inside out. Surgery was inevitable, and with it came something I never imagined I’d face: a permanent colostomy stoma. Waking up from surgery, I didn’t just feel pain—I felt like a stranger in my own body. The thought of running again seemed impossible. I wasn’t just dealing with physical recovery—I was grieving. For my old body. For the ease I once felt when I moved. For the version of me that hadn’t yet known this kind of vulnerability.
But deep down, the runner in me has never really died.
The first time I tried to run after surgery, it was awkward, uncomfortable, and honestly, terrifying. I worried about everything—how my stoma would react, if people could see it, if I’d ever feel “normal” again. But I did it. Slowly. Gently. I didn’t go far, and it wasn’t pretty—but I ran.
And something shifted.
Running began to heal me again—not just my body, but my mind. With every run, I reclaimed a little more of myself. I stopped seeing my stoma as a symbol of limitation and started seeing it as proof of survival. Yes, there are still days it’s hard. There are still setbacks. But there’s also power in showing up anyway.
Now, running isn’t about pace or distance. It’s about resilience. It’s about choosing to move forward—even when life has tried to hold me back. It’s about finding strength not in spite of what I’ve been through, but because of it.
If you’re reading this and facing your own mountain—be it illness, surgery, or a body that feels unfamiliar—know this: your strength doesn’t lie in how fast you move, but in your decision to keep going. You’re not broken. You’re becoming.
And you’re not alone.
Having survived Stage3 Bowel Cancer I have started a 5k walk/jog/run group called ‘One Foot In Front Of The Other ” To show there is life, with/post Cancer and there is a life worth living with a stoma. All it takes is to put one foot in front of the other. Welcome anyone to join us every Sunday 9.30am Tesco Carpark Western Ave Cardiff for our 5k event