IT’S fair to say that sitting waiting for oncology and scans isn’t the best experience.

People tell you not to think about it - but even as I type that I am thinking ‘David, don’t keep thinking about cancer, tumours and scans’. 

But guess what. Yeah it’s firmly at the forefront of my consciousness. 

Therapy doesn’t really work for me, it just makes me feel worse. 

My therapist is my bike. 

However London isn’t kind to me and when cycling I always seam to be either in close contact with a car or even closer contact with the tarmac.

Sitting looking at my hospital letter for my MRI I feel the mental battle starting up again.

Here it comes: 21st of May, and it’s a big one as if it is clear then I am even further out of the woods. 

I can’t sit here each day waiting, I think.

That would mean my life is being defined by my tumour, even if in many ways it already is. 

So without thinking TOO much I jump in my car and started driving towards the channel tunnel. 

My sat nav is programmed for Ostend in Belgium. 

Why? The UCI para cycling World Cup. 

Unfortunately not to race as my relationship with the sport of cycling is not a straight forward one. 

However it’s just great to be here, with old team mates and meeting new ones. 

Sat in the middle of the GB squad as they rode out to a cafe on a recovery day it brought back memories of when I first joined the National team. 

A clear path to the podium, little did I know the only podium I would come familiar with is climbing onto an anaesthetic table. 

Moments like this bring mixed emotions for me.

In one revolution of my pedals I am at my happiest, the next a rush of sadness of the reality of my race in life. 

It used to all be about the bike, now it’s more about staying alive off it. 

There is - however - for me no better therapy than miles and miles of empty roads and the moments chatting with my team mates, most who I haven’t seen since 2018 when I was diagnosed again. 

Most of them since 2018 have spent the hours training and chasing those sporting dreams. Much different. 

On Thursday I found myself on the time trial course riding with my old coach and a new GB rider Daphne Schrager.

I’m one of life’s bizarre little coincidences, Daphne’s family live opposite me in London  although I never knew this till I sat down to have a coffee with the athlete turned cyclist. 

I jumped onto her time trial effort as she prepared for her first race of the season. 

I thought ‘oh maybe I should have entered this race’ then my legs started to burn, my heart rate at 182 beats per minute and as I looked up Daphne’s wheel was gone. 

All good fun and to just be on the race course for me felt like a dream, a million miles away from hospital or the mental suffering it has left me in now after 12 years. 

Sixty five kilometres later I found myself sat back at the hotel planning my next ride and thinking how great for my mental strength it has been to come here. 

To be on that course gave me a spark to train. 

To suffer on the bike has become harder after each surgery, but watching Daphne ride has definitely given me a boost and a focus to make it to the nationals this year. 

As I sign off this week I am standing next to the finish line here in Ostend.

The last time I was here I was racing and hopefully the next time I am here I will be too. This trip has lit a fire in me to make the start line again.