Looking into holes Part five

 It’s a slightly chill sunny September morning in the Brecon Beacons. I’m part of a 20 strong stag group that decided after a night of revelry around a camp fire a 9am park run would be a rollicking start to the day. I hadn’t drunk much the day before because I knew my running training really wasn’t coming along; in fact it was dying on its arse and I hadn’t got past 2k in any session; old age? The later activity was going to be gorge walking which I subsequently discovered involved walking to a gorge and jumping into pools from a great height. I mean; that’s gorge dipping. I opted out.

The park looked fairly hilly but the sun was shining and all I really needed to do was take it a step at a time. I can’t remember how many circuits of the the park was involved but I started off very sprightly if not at world record pace. I could feel my breathing getting heavier and that brick wall starting to close in. I was about 3k in, doing ok, when the shutters came down. I could barely move. There was literally nothing left in me. This was embarrassing. 

“What happened, you were ahead of me” said my brother-in-law.

“ I don’t know there was just nothing there, I mean just nothing.”

We left the park returning to the parked cars. I felt cowed. I’ve never failed to finish a run before. My brother -in-law was taxi-ing us back to the site via a winding mountain road.  My son was in the car with me and, as a safety conscious driver himself, insisted my brother-in-law honked at every blind corner.

“It’s a residential area, they’re not going to like us”

“They made a decision to live here, it’s on them” I burst out laughing.

I struggled to lift myself from the hospital bed. The raid on my bone marrow has left me sore and stiff. On the plus side the cough has receded and I can speak freely and, as is my natural inclination quite frankly. I have a slightly mercurial personality which means that when I’m up I can lift the room but when I’m down I can take everyone with me. I’m conscious that many years in sales has exacerbated my penchant for dominating a conversation so I need to rein back from the triumphalist “I’m feeling good, why aren’t you” element of my personality.

I’m at the toilet grasping my toilet wipes. Do not underestimate gently medicated toilet wipes. I’ve become obsessed with infections. Last thing I need is a bum infection. I know it’s not a topic for conversation but cancer often isn’t and we do need to talk about it, talk it through. Successful treatment will depend on openness and trust. I can’t do this journey alone.

Well that’s it. Toilet and back. Journey complete. And, brother-in-law, you may sit upon your pyrrhic  victory in the park but I’m coming for that garland. It belongs to me.