Cancer stole almost everything from me – then I broke a world record

My legs were screaming. My arms burned. But my heart had never felt so full.

As The Mall came into view, I allowed myself to believe the Guinness World Record because the fastest marathon in a suit for 10 people was ours.

Twenty-four hours earlier, me and a team of friends had been dragging ourselves along, stitched together in our 'London Bus' made of plumbing pipes, hula hoops and yoga mats – up a hill wondering if we could make it a mile. The way the last training sessions went, things weren't looking good.

But as we crossed the finish line after six and a half hours, I was reminded that you can go a long way with the right people by your side.

We didn't make it alone, we made it together, dressed in 'everyday hero' uniforms – including a doctor, farmer and Brownie – that no one designed for endurance racing.

And with that we have made history.

I didn't wake up one day with a burning desire to run a marathon dressed as a bus driver, uncomfortably close to nine friends.

But I didn't expect to have to learn to walk again in my twenties (I had to have my pelvis rebuilt after being diagnosed with hip dysplasia) and live again in my thirties after being diagnosed with breast cancer.

If you've ever been one of the unfortunate ones sitting in a hospital consultation room watching your life fall apart, you know it becomes difficult to imagine surviving a year, let alone a decade.

In 2014, looking at the chemotherapy is pumped I have pledged to raise £100,000 for charity within ten years. Instead of counting the days until the end of my active treatment, I decided to make every day count and support others facing serious illness.

I didn't think that promise would take me on an adventure and teach me about myself, teamwork, friendship, kindness, and hope.

At that stage I didn't own running trainers. I was allergic to leggings. But if I wanted to reclaim the body that cancer had tried to take away, I felt like I had to do something very difficult. So I chose running, which was the hardest thing I could imagine for my pelvis and cancer-ravaged body.

Just a week before my final chemotherapy session, I ran my first ever 10K run, with my shiny bald head and the phone number of the acute oncology team in my back pocket.

As I crossed that first finish line, with a good friend by my side, I knew that exercise would always be a part of my life in the future.

Ten years later, I've completed overnight rides and cycles from coast to coast, climbed mountains, and done half Ironman races.

I spent 29 hours and five seconds on a spin bike for my 40th birthday, and even I ran the London Marathon in 2017 in a wedding dressmarried shortly before the race.

My husband and I agreed that donating our wedding to the charities that helped us through my cancer felt like the only wedding gift we wanted.

This year my challenge teams and I had raised over £93,000 for charities including Breast Cancer Now, NHS Charities Together and Willow Foundation (and I now have cupboards full of practice material!).

But I knew I had to celebrate this year in style as 2024 marks 10 years of my existence free from cancer.

Cancer steals your time, energy, joy and your loved ones. Mine stole my chest, rearranged my body and made it difficult to look in the mirror. Ten years clear is not a milestone that enough people reach – and I'm determined to change that.

Exercise is my life insurance. It makes me feel alive.

I have led myself and others to believe that when you aim for the impossible, you discover what is possible. I knew I had to go bigger in exploring my own physical side, and encourage others to do the same, and I wanted to celebrate everything I had learned about living a great life.

So on January 1, 2024, I reset my fundraising goal to start at £0 again, and set myself 10 challenges – starting with running the London Marathondressed as a bus.

Seven years ago, this was the race that helped me realize I could take control of my body. So it was a no-brainer to turn the individual sport of running into a team game – and attempt a world record.

As the marathon date approached, I was surrounded by logistical and health and safety challenges, from bus design and transportation to team coordination, as I hobbled due to a stress fracture I suffered during training. I remember thinking how hard it must be to live permanently in the discomfort zone.

I wondered if my crazy plan was even possible, until the moment I found myself floating on the starting line, surrounded by my equally nervous friends and supportive runners, dressed in our makeshift bus with photos of friends and family, many of whom had had cancer and was no longer with us.

Failure was not an option.

With my angry foot and toenails still clinging to it, it's hard to imagine that this is just the beginning of my challenge year. But every time I use the JustGiving page and watch fundraising increase (we're at £36,000 so far) I know I'm doing the right thing.

Then I return to the 10k race I ran during chemotherapy (but this time with 99 other people), before climbing 24 peaks in 48 hours in the Lake District in July and crossing the Sahara in November.

I also have new, “less than energetic” monthly adventures planned, including one Bread baking coursea camping weekend with family, a trip to the North Pole and a celebration of friendship.

I do all this while encouraging others to take up exercise through a '100k our way' exercise challenge, with the aim of getting as many people as possible to exercise 100 km in the coming year.

It's one thing to challenge your own body, but there's no better feeling than seeing others evolve toward a brighter life.

I know the rest of the year will push me to places I haven't been yet (and may never want to go back to), but my challenges are as much about smiles as they are about sweat.

I can't stop my friends from dying, but I can live my best life in their memory – and encourage others to do the same.

If things get really tough in the coming months, I won't think about the chemo or scars.

I will remember the tears, the team and the family members who watched as my friends and I crossed the marathon finish line and wiped 23 minutes off a world record.

Because in that moment I was reminded that if we have friendship, kindness and health, we have everything we need.

You can follow Jackie @creatief888 (Instagram) or @jackie8 (X) you would like to participate in her challenge year.

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