The day after Andy and I shook on Paris, Nellie and I were back out. It was the same town loop as my first run back: 3.67 miles through Bridport at 10:07 a mile, with yesterday’s 7.75 still sitting in my legs.

I thought hard about what to call it on Strava, and I chose the words very deliberately.

It’s going to be a Long Road Back.

Twenty-four hours earlier we’d agreed to run 350+ miles from Bridport to Paris. The morning after, I’m doing ten-minute miles round town with the dog. I’m not complaining. That’s just the honest distance between where I am and where I need to be. It’s a long road, and every run from here is a bit more of it.

And I’m doing it rattling. Every morning there’s a small pharmacy on the kitchen table. There are eight steroid tablets to heal the kidneys, and two Furosemide for the water. Then there’s Ramipril for blood pressure, Atorvastatin for cholesterol, Famotidine to protect my stomach from the steroids, and Adcal-D3 to protect my bones from them too. On top of all that, Rituximab is working away in the background as the long-term fix. That’s fourteen tablets a day. Nobody tells you the road back comes with a pill organiser.

The plan is simple enough. I take the lot until everything heals. Then, once the urine test sticks come back clear, the steroids come down one tablet at a time. Every tablet I drop is a step further along the road.

Nellie, as ever, didn’t care about any of it. She just wanted to run. Good dog.

It’s going to be a long road back. Good. Let’s get on with it.

— James (and Nellie)