Nathaniel Dye

Following my glorious, albeit brief, return to work, I found myself free of commitments for a few days.  So I took a (much delayed) train up to the tiny Yorkshire village of Horton-in-Ribble…
A look back at some of the earlier blog entries would suggest that my perspective has shifted. Perhaps this is to be expected: I’ve been buffeted around a tempestuous sea of mixed emotions on this mos…
Well I think it’s safe to say that - even by my standards - it’s been quite a week, or should that be month?  I think Danny Wallace would be proud of me as I’ve said yes to just about everyt…
Upon first glance, there isn’t much in common between living with incurable cancer and a few games of cricket. But as I continue to vicariously experience this most explosive of Ashes series, a few pa…
No - I’m not going to the olympics.  Cancer seems to be opening doors but, unfortunately not that one.  Nonetheless, after my comeback 50k ultra a few weeks ago, a friend remarked …
I am tired.  Very tired.  Not quite exhausted.  It’s the kind of generalised tiredness that has no particular rhyme, reason or obvious source.  I’m just a bit d…
‘You know - any of us could be hit by a bus tomorrow! So you should live every day like your last!’ I’ve heard a few variations on the above pretty often in recent months, so these statements are c…
I can’t begin to describe how much support I’ve had over the past eight months or so.  Writing a blog about the ways in which people have been there seems a little daunting and pretty risky in case I …
‘I have nothing to live for,’ I idly thought to myself during a Sunday morning leg stretch through the shady trails of Hainault Country Park. Ok - before you panic and plead with Samaritans to give…
Towards the end of a long ultramarathon, there sometimes comes a point known as the ‘death march’.  This isn’t quite as dramatic as it sounds - it describes the state of exhaustion where any…