One Man, One Dog, and a Whole Lot of Miles - David Stride
If you’d told me in December 2023 that I’d be striding across Surrey to West Sussex less than 2 years later, I’d probably have asked if you’d mixed up your prescriptions. At that point, I’d just been handed a stage 4 oesophageal cancer diagnosis — the sort of phrase that makes time stop, the air freeze, and the future feel like it’s just fallen through a trapdoor.
Cue months of hospital visits, scans, prods, pokes, and a particularly dramatic “exploration surgery” (imagine a reconnaissance mission, but with scalpels). Chemotherapy followed — not exactly a spa treatment — and somehow, miraculously, the tumour shrank. Suddenly, the “huge surgery” was on the cards, followed by yet more chemo, and then the marathon of recovery began: learning how to eat again, rebuilding strength, and getting reacquainted with life itself.
Fast forward a few months, and there I was — out cycling with my faithful sidekick, Caroline the Collie (part sheepdog, part personal trainer) — when it hit me: I’m incredibly lucky to be here. And not just “I’ve-found-a-fiver” lucky. Proper, capital-L Lucky. I decided I needed to give something back to the incredible team at Royal Surrey County Hospital, whose skill and care had literally saved my life.
Being a lifelong cyclist, I thought, “I’ll do a sponsored ride — RSCH to Shoreham Beach!” Easy, right? Wrong. While I was more than ready to take on the miles, Caroline’s paws were not so keen on the abrasive Downs Link surface. After a brief committee meeting (me, the dog, and a cup of tea), I decided to swap wheels for walking boots. One day. One big walk.
Training began — just me and Caroline, striding out like a mismatched double act. Within six weeks, I was up to 10 miles a day, and my first “proper” training walk clocked in at 23 miles, straight after a hospital appointment. Talk about commitment.
Word spread, and soon my stepdaughter and her partner Ed (who lives with Ataxia and wanted to raise funds for Ataxia UK) decided to join in. The team was growing.
The Big Day dawned at 5 a.m., complete with torrential rain, a mobility scooter, an electric wheelchair, and a suspiciously optimistic sense of humour. A quick photo at the RSCH entrance, soggy smiles all round — and off we went!
Our support crew, aka my wife Jackie, was the day’s unsung hero — or at least she was until disaster struck at Bramley with a puncture. But not to worry: enter James, our son-in-law, who swooped in like a roadside superhero. From there, the support team expanded — joined by my other stepdaughter and my ever-cheerful mother-in-law — keeping everyone fed, motivated, and slightly less damp than we otherwise would’ve been. With the van back on the move, we powered through Cranleigh and Baynards Park, legs pumping, spirits high.
At the halfway point — The Milk Churn in Rudgwick — I was greeted like a returning explorer by family, including our 3-year-old granddaughter Sienna, who radiates more joy than a caffeine factory. I had cheese on toast which fuelled me up for the next leg of the journey.
From there, it was a relay of walking companions: my sister and niece (who may still be catching their breath), two friends through Christ’s Hospital, and then another changing of the guard at Southwater. The pace? Let’s just say enthusiastic.
By the time we hit Bramber, the rain had returned, but so had the rest of the crew — Jackie, James, both stepdaughters, my mother-in-law, our second dog Sydney, and even Alan the Grandog (the family mascot). Together — three generations, three dogs, slightly soggy but utterly determined — we crossed the final bridge into Shoreham after 13.5 hours on our feet.
And there, in the drizzle and the dark, was Sienna — bouncing up and down, shouting, “Well done, Grandpa! You did it!” Reader, I may have had something in my eye.
Caroline the Collie completed every step by my side and even raised £30 herself (not sure how — probably charm and good looks).
That day wasn’t just a walk. It was a 13.5 hour celebration — of survival, teamwork, and gratitude to every single member of the Royal Surrey County Hospital team, whose brilliance made it all possible.
If this story inspires even one person facing a similar diagnosis to keep going, then every mile, every blister, and every soggy sock was worth it.
