When I was diagnosed with breast cancer, I knew life was about to change. Surgery, chemo, radiation... it all sounded terrifying and exhausting. But through all of it, one thing kept me feeling like me: moving.
Before cancer, I was always busy; work, gardening, the gym, weekend runs. I didn’t sit still much. So even when treatment wiped me out, I still felt this itch to get up and move, even if it was just to the end of the street. On my hardest days, resting felt worse than being tired. Just getting up and moving, even a bit, brought back a glimpse of the old me.
In September 2023, halfway through my chemotherapy treatment, I signed up for Cancer Research UK’s Shine Walk and walked a half marathon — 21.1 km — with my husband. It was hard, but also kind of amazing. It wasn’t about speed or performance; it was about proving to myself that I was still strong, still capable. And in the hope that someday cancer treatments will be kinder, more effective, and a whole lot less brutal.
Eating well during treatment was another challenge. When you’re nauseous and exhausted, the last thing you want to do is think about balanced meals. But I did what I could, focusing on protein, drinking lots of water, and trying to move when I could. Soon I started noticing a pattern; the more I stayed still, the worse I felt. But if I got outside, even for a short walk, my mood lifted and my energy came back, little by little.
During radiation, I started walking to and from the hospital. It wasn’t far, but it became this quiet routine that gave me a tiny sense of control. With each step, the fresh air filled my lungs, the rhythmic movement kept me grounded, and the music in my ears became both a distraction and a source of strength. Some songs gave me the energy to keep going, others helped me make sense of what I was feeling. Even when the treatments took their toll, those walks, powered by movement and music, felt like a way to hold onto who I was.
Later when Lymphedema became part of the picture, movement helped again. Walking, swimming, Pilates, light resistance training... all of it kept the swelling down and helped me feel less stiff and sore. Instead of seeing it as “yet another thing” I had to deal with, I made it part of my routine. It’s not just about managing symptoms now, it’s about staying strong and feeling good in my body.
One thing that really surprised me was how much I gained from attending the Pilates and yoga classes offered by cancer charities like Future Dreams and Macmillan. At first, I was nervous, worried I wouldn’t be strong enough or that it might be too much. But those classes turned out to be a lifeline. The gentle movements helped with my flexibility and stiffness, and the focus on breath and mindfulness gave me space to connect with myself when everything else felt chaotic. There was also something comforting about being in a room full of people who just got it. No need to explain. We were all there, healing in our own way. Those sessions helped not just my body, but my mind too... they gave me tools to cope with fatigue, manage pain, and ease the emotional weight of it all.
Last summer, upon completing my radiotherapy treatment, I did a half-marathon hike to raise money for Macmillan Cancer Support. Each step said what words couldn’t: “I’m not done yet.” Now, as I navigate targeted and hormone therapies, I’m still figuring out how to manage fatigue and menopause side effects through movement. Some days I do more. Some days I do less. I’ve learned that both are okay.
After 24 months of treatment, I finally made it back to the gym. But let me tell you, exercising after cancer, that’s a whole different ballgame. Some days, the warm-up is the workout. Other days, I surprise myself. I’ve learned to stop chasing “pre-cancer me” and celebrate the little wins.
What’s amazing is that now, science backs this up. A huge new international study found that exercise can actually help reduce cancer-related fatigue better than medication. That blew my mind, but also made total sense. I lived it. Moving helped me more than any pill ever did. And it doesn’t have to be intense, just regular, consistent movement can make a real difference.
And no, this isn’t about becoming a fitness influencer or hitting the gym five times a week. It’s about making movement part of everyday life. Walking to the shop. Taking the stairs. Stretching while the kettle boils. It’s about listening to your body, showing up for it, and giving yourself credit for every small win.
If cancer has taught me anything, it’s this: healing isn’t just physical. It’s emotional. It’s mental. It’s a process. Some days are messy, some days are beautiful, and a lot of them are both. But movement, a little laughter, and sheer stubbornness have carried me through.
I may not be moving like I used to, but I’m still moving. Still healing. Still finding strength in small steps.
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