This morning I had the privilege of pacing young Felix to a Parkrun PB—and wow, what a joy that gave me. He smashed through the 20-minute barrier, by a solid 17 seconds, and while I’m sure he’s proud, I honestly think I was the happier one just being there to assist.

I’ve run plenty of PBs myself over the years, and I’ll keep adapting them into age-relative ones as time goes on. But here’s the thing: the joy of hitting a PB is often short-lived. Sometimes it barely lasts longer than the buzz of stopping my watch.

Supporting someone else, though—that’s different. Helping another runner hit their best leaves me with a sense of fulfillment that’s deeper, more intense, and lingers much longer. And when that someone is a kid or a young athlete, it feels extra special. It’s like you’ve nudged open a new door of possibility for them, boosted their confidence, given them a tiny piece of belief. Chances are, they’ll forget you were even there. But you won’t. And that’s more than ok.

It reminds me of a line from Seth Godin: “The most successful givers aren’t doing it because they’re told to, they do it because it’s fun. It gives THEM joy.”

Thanks, Felix—you made my morning

This morning, I was grinding my way up the hill. 
And somewhere between my footsteps, I found myself thinking about one of my deepest running fears: sleep deprivation.

It’s not just the tiredness. It’s that hollow, drained feeling… like my mind’s battery is flat. And because I’m such a “head runner,” when that battery dies, everything else seems to collapse in on itself. The world goes silent, dark, and heavy. I’ve been there enough times to know the place too well. It’s almost like PTSD; just the thought of going back there can make my stomach knot.

But then, out of nowhere, I remembered - it was Keith’s birthday yesterday. Keith, who fought battles far bigger than mine. And just like that, perspective hit me in the chest.

Sleep deprivation is not the enemy. Not really. It’s uncomfortable, sure. It tests you. But compared to what so many people face in life… it’s small. And letting it stop me from chasing something meaningful? That would be absurd. Worse—it would be cowardly.

Because in the end, the equation is simple:
Conviction says: I will finish.
Endurance says: I will suffer as long as it takes.
Together they say: Nothing can stop me.

Some people you meet leave a mark so deep it changes the course of your life.

Richard Scolyer is one of them.
The first time I heard him speak, he was sharing both the incredible breakthroughs in melanoma treatment he helped pioneer, and his own deeply personal fight with incurable brain cancer. That talk lit a fire in my belly to give back more, to push harder for the causes I believe in.

It also — quite literally — sparked something else: a burning sensation near my shoulder that I couldn’t ignore. Turns out, it was something I needed to remove.
A strange twist of fate, but a powerful reminder to listen to your body
.
Richard, your courage and determination continue to inspire me. Even if I fight in a different way, I’ll keep going — and I’ll do it in your honour.

I can’t wait to see you take on the 2025 City2Surf. Keep running your race. We’re all running beside you. 🏃‍♂️💪

https://www.smh.com.au/lifestyle/health-and-wellness/i-m-not-giving-up-now-richard-scolyer-defies-cancer-to-run-city2surf-20250805-p5mkkm.html

​

​I blinked… and over a year has passed since my last blog post here.
Not because nothing happened—far from it.

Life has been a whirlwind. Kids growing taller and braver. New friends, new routines. School runs and sports days. Work challenges—old and fresh ones—pushing me in new directions. Small and big discoveries about myself and the people around me. Tears of joy and tears of loss. Moments of deep reflection. And yes… training and racing hard. Always training and racing hard!

Funny thing: my last published post was on World Cancer Day in 2024. And here I am, writing again, exactly for that reason.

Because the work never stopped.
It just went quiet for a while.

For the last 18 months, I’ve kept moving in my own way—raising awareness about prevention, organising running events to fund cancer research, and dreaming up those “is-he-serious?” ideas that somehow get people talking, moving, and taking action. I’ve kept chasing that ripple effect—where one small push becomes a wave, then a snowball—so that people, companies, and society at large take more responsibility for our health and wellbeing.

So yes, I’m back on the treadmill.

And if you know, you know…
That’s when things get interesting.
​
Let’s go.

Yesterday marked World Cancer Day, a stark reminder of the relentless grip of this devastating disease. For me, it's not just another day on the calendar; it's a call to arms in the battle for prevention.


The memory of my mother's battle with cancer, which ultimately consumed her, stands as a stark testament to its indiscriminate cruelty. The pain she endured, witnessed by our family and her community, remains etched into my memory. Though 13 years have passed, the anguish feels as raw as if it were yesterday.

It's a reminder of the fragility of life and the urgent need for action.

In the face of such adversity, we cannot afford to remain idle. We are called upon to act. It is our collective duty to prioritize cancer prevention through awareness, education, and, quite frankly, by simply doing what we know is right. By championing healthy lifestyle choices and advocating for regular screenings, we have the power to mitigate the risk factors associated with cancer, potentially sparing countless individuals from untold suffering on a global scale.

​I envision a world where tobacco, alcohol, physical inactivity, and poor diet hold no sway over cancer incidence—a world propelled by the "outruncancer" vision, fueled by personal determination to rise above and cultivate resilience.