It is about the bike

How cycling helped me come to terms with terminal cancer

- Richard Butterfield

"I'm sorry but there's nothing we can do..." I didn't hear much of what followed. It had all started a few years ago, when I'd had some clues that things weren't quite right, but typically I'd brushed them off. However, the doctor was now confirming what I'd recently suspected the cancer I'd been trying to battle since the diagnosis had spread to my lungs and was now incurable. I had a life expectancy of 18-24 months. Damn.

It would be wrong to suggest that getting a terminal illness doesn't change things. Of course it does. It's a daily struggle for my family and I, knowing that I have limited time left. But there are two ways to tackle it: either hide under the bedcovers until you die (a perfectly acceptable option by the way); or try to cram in as much as possible to make some memories to take with you. I chose the latter.

The terminal-cancer prognosis had come in March 2020. I'd got through cancer surgeries the previous year, then six weeks of adjuvant (post-surgery) radiotherapy, without too much disruption to my routine - it was just a bit trickier to fit everything into my diary - I'd taken to commuting by bike to my radiotherapy sessions to combine training and travel, to leave more time for work meetings and calls. Now it was time to prioritise me and my family a little more.