29. Ouch to 5k

Shuffling towards a new world

This blog is spectacularly overdue. This has become a habit. It’s not been my intention, and I haven’t been actively avoiding it because I like writing but...life. There have been so many changes recently it has been difficult to keep track and, in a choice between documenting my experiences and, well, experiencing them, I’m afraid the latter wins. It’s also been difficult to put pen to paper (fingertip to keyboard?) to express my thoughts on these various developments because, truth be told, I often don’t know what I think.

A lot of what is happening these days seems to have profound implications for my life, self identity, or future, and such weighty issues are sometimes difficult to articulate or present in a pithy entertaining blog suitable for general readership. And the truth is, I am desperate for your readership/understanding/praise, so figure one enjoyable blog every 6 weeks is better than a fortnightly serving of forgettable beige.

As such, this edition of the blog features a pleasing melange of subjects and mixed media which I hope you will find edifying. It’s the tail-end of a heatwave Bank Holiday weekend in the UK, so I hope reading it will slot perfectly into your inebriated post-BBQ entertainment schedules. It’s a bit lengthy, mind. My longest ever, but also one of my best.

The World’s First Sound Free Concert

That’s not hyperbole. It really was the world’s first such event, and something myself and colleagues at Outcome Path have been working on for months with Advanced Bionics, Phonak, and others. If you missed the social media chatter, the basic premise of the event is described by me (admittedly, a bit stiltingly… I was exhausted) in the first 20 seconds of the extremely watchable video below:

(Filmed, edited, post-prod by the fantastic Joe Norledge Films)

I’m fortunate to have the portfolio career of a wastrel Fractional CMO and Marketing Consultant, so it was both a privilege and a pleasure when my friend Ade asked if I would head up this project. It is exactly the work I want to be doing. Effective and innovative marketing with real world impact and impetus. It’s nice to have a World First on the LinkedIN CV now, too.

In the dizzying post-event haze, this vid and other media and testimonials are now doing the global Audiology and health/social care rounds, so we’ll see what happens next. There might be similar events in other cities worldwide, or training, or consultancy. Regardless, it was great work and a great team to work with.

It also meant I got to publicly unveil, for the first time, THE BROGUES.

(Pic Credit © 2026 Ade Webb - credit where it’s due)

The Arrival of Roger’s Leg - now properly Bilateral BKA

Sharp-eyed readers will note that I have two prosthetic legs in the pic above - suggesting a recent acquisition. This is true. I picked it up the day before we went to London for the Sound Free Concert. This timing was… suboptimal. Nerves and fatigue already at a fever pitch for a World First event 200 miles away… collecting the mobility aid you’ve been waiting the best part of 2 years for which is fundamental to your lifestyle moving forward, the day before. I could perhaps have phrased that mouthful a bit better.

The timing was nobody’s fault - except perhaps my own, for not pragmatically putting off prosthetic collection until a week later once the concert had been done. But when you’ve been waiting so long… yeah. In any case, getting used to the leg and learning how to walk takes a significant amount of time, so I was just wearing it during the concert for cosmetic purposes. And by that, I mean “so I can show off the brogues I’ve wanted since I was about 9 years old”. See previous blog re my lifelong footwear challenges.

Learning How To Walk Again

Having a Below-Knee Amputation (BKA) is a significant benefit, compared to an Above-Knee (AKA), for what I hope are fairly obvious walking biomechanics. That does not, in any way, mean that it is ‘easy’. But you have a knee you can control, so a big headstart with just the lower leg and problematic ankle joint to manage.

We will gloss over the whole fitting, socket comfort, discomfort, weight-bearing pain and so on issues of getting a new prosthetic (much of it covered in previous blogs) and leap right to one small step for man, one giant leap f-… Every journey starts with a single step. Stepping into the future. One step beyond. Etc. Here were my first ones:

My commitment to walking is matched only by my commitment to colour coordination and sponsor representation.

After these first tentative forays into pedestrianism, we were whisked away to London for the SFC, and the leg was demoted to a useful wheelchair prop for wearing shoes, but once recovering back home in Devon I was able to continue my physio exercises and walking practice. Here’s a clip of some rapidly-improving hallway reps:

And, after some further practice and course correction, I attempted my first crutchless ambulation. Not the prettiest sight, unkind individuals have even suggested drunken sailor leanings, but mostly safe and mostly serviceable:

And then, inevitably, outside was tackled. And weather. And gradients. And rough ground. This clip has a bit of it all, and was taken about 10 days in:

It’s ok, I wasn’t having a mental episode there. I was just waving one crutch to show that it wasn’t really needed at that point, and could probably switch to just a walking stick. Which I did, a few days later.

A Tasteful Interlude - Trevor’s Birthday

A few days later turned out to be 21st May 2026, which is the 1 year anniversary of my first leg amputation and the ‘birth’ of Trevor. Alice is much better at keeping track of these things than I am, and very kindly baked a cake to celebrate - coffee and walnut, because we have certain standards in this house.

(Giant cake pic © 2026 Alice Staniford - because she will also hurt me if I don’t credit)

A lot can happen in a year. A lot has happened in a year. As mentioned in the introduction a blog is, perhaps, not the best way of documenting that or sharing the many experiences and thoughts about those experiences which occur. Trevor’s bday is a good example of that. I don’t know where to begin. The whole amputation journey alongside the #GoodbyeLegsRide and then work changes, and #SoundFreeConcert and personal growth, and… life. Where to begin. Think you’ll have to settle for a cake pic and your own empathetic imaginations.

Oh God not another performance target…

You might have noticed that I like a challenge. I am also relentlessly, hopelessly, goal-driven. Even when I'm actively trying not to be, because it’s unhealthy at times, I have a tendency to fall into bad habits. I must read this book faster than anyone. I will ‘win’ at recovery- go to bed earliest, or meditate the longest. It’s a sickness, and it’s a bit pathetic, really. I am getting better at it, but the whole amputation and rehab and prosthetic thing has regrettably unleashed a seductive slew of ‘new challenges’ and ‘first double amputee to…’s and opportunities to self-flagellate myself into new PRs and PBs because, let’s face it, everything is new currently. I have no amputee track record yet. Walking to the café sets a new distance PB for me. I walked to the end of my drive in ‘record time’.

And so, Trevor’s bday came. And the 2-week anniversary of getting ‘both’ prosthetics and beginning to walk. And I found myself rather stupidly enamoured by the notion of a personal challenge to walk 2k. And here we are:

It wasn’t pleasant, reader. You can probably tell, by the fact it took 90 mins to walk 2k. A colossal 0.8mph average. Including stops, of which there were many, helpfully facilitated by Alice walking alongside with my wheelchair. But, job done. It was very boring. Very exhausting. Very painful (thankfully, all lower back pain due to crap technique, lordosis, anterior pelvic tilt) and Trevor, Roger, and prosthetics were absolutely fine if a little bit sweaty.

(Zoa cap, Zoa shorts, merino t-shirt - Albion Cycling. Crutches - NHS. Gazelle trainers - Adidas. Sunglasses, questionable facial hair, stoic grimace - model’s own.)

It is not enough to walk 2k. One must walk 2k in stylish sponsor clothing, with long-suffering wifelet as volunteer photographer and backup wheelchair pusher.

Anyhow, it took a day or two to recover, no lasting damage. Except there was damage. An unfortunate seed had been planted and, like an insatiable junkie, I was homing in on my next bigger fix.

Ouch to 5k

UK readers will have heard of ‘Couch to 5k’, a popular NHS policy/programme/craze which seeks to support (with a 9-week training programme) people wishing to go from sedentary to completing a 5k event. (ParkRuns being an absolutely perfect target) It’s a great programme, which I fully support. There’s even an app for it. Seriously, if you’re not already active (and even if you are, to be honest) check it out, and go do it.

But, me being me, I had to put my own whimsical wordplay into, er,… play. And also wheedle in an acknowledgement of my unique situation… and so ‘Ouch to 5k’ was born. I have given myself 9 weeks, from the day I got my legs, to completing a 5k. Note I have said ‘completing’ not ‘running’. One does not run, with standard prosthetics, as an amputee. One adopts a spirited shuffle and prays their limb(s) are well-supported and it doesn’t get too hot on the course. (Fancy carbon fibre running blades are something which, for the foreseeable, elude me on a financial basis).

So, got both legs locked and loaded on 8th May, 2 and a bit weeks ago. 9 weeks takes us to Friday 10th July. Rather conveniently, Saturday 11th July sees Exeter Riverside ParkRun 9am start. So there we go. Sorted.

(Monopolising the mobility aid market - © 2026 Alice Staniford, again)

This won’t be a charity challenge. I think people are probably still recovering their patience and wallets from last year’s #GoodbyeLegsRide and the tremendous £16,000 we raised for Devon Air Ambulance, Wheels for Wellbeing, Exeter UNESCO City of Literature, and the Devon and Exeter Institution.

I have no intention of becoming the Westcountry’s Bono or Bob Geldof and completely understand if, frankly, people are sick of the sight of me. I am, however, keen to try to nudge people towards the very practical and beneficial Couch to 5k program - or even towards embracing their own personal projects and pathways to better health. Get started now. There is no tomorrow.

If you want to come and join me on 11th July, by all means please do. But prepare yourself for what will be the slowest 3 mile walk you have ever done.

Living for the Lycra

Don’t get me wrong, walking and jogging and maybe even running one day are all very well and good. They’re fundamental to taking advantage of my new legs and ensuring my health and longevity. Ouch to 5k is a wonderful target to have, and maybe we can even encourage lots of people to take on their own healthy challenges.

But it is a side quest, reader:

(First time I’ve sat on a bicycle since the #GoodbyeLegsRide back on 27th April 2025)

I’m committed to building my general health and working towards walking/jogging becoming regular easy activities for me. Having been graced with the tremendous gift of bilateral BKA, I want to be as ‘fully functional’ as I can be. But unless we encounter some serious unexpected practical or biomechanical issues, my hobby and performance aspirations remain firmly directed towards two wheels. I’m supported by some wonderful people and brands (Trek Bikes, NoPinz, and Albion Cycling) who help me do so.

(Please don’t mention triathlon to me. I need to focus on summitting the heights of mediocrity in one sport first, before tackling three).

And so, 4 days after collecting Roger’s leg, I sneakily threw him over the familiar Emonda toptube to see what’s what on a bikefit basis. Needless to say, everything has changed. I’ve gone from size UK6 cycling shoes (actually size 3 and 5 in them though) to UK9. And my deteriorating hand is worse than it was. And I now have a belly. Which crushes my lungs. So some fit changes are needed.

Alarmingly, though, I needed quite a large reduction in saddle height. Bit confused by this, initially, as when the prosthetists asked me what height I would like to be with my snazzy new legs, I asked to remain my original 6ft 3”. And yet, here I am cutting 2 inches off my inner leg length at the minimum possible on my bike frame. Quick call to the prosthetist - they’ve stolen 3 inches from me!

So, walking with BKA prosthetics is hard. About 40% greater energy expenditure than ‘regular’ legs. Walking with 2 of them is exponentially harder. Often, with a ‘bilateral’ patient, prosthetists will start them on a slightly reduced height. Better for centre of gravity, balance, building confidence, developing technique, etc. The problem is that they forgot to tell me this. And, regretfully, they seem slightly reticent to give me back my stolen inches because of the challenges posed by the additional height. I can feel another TS vs medical establishment case coming up…

We have a face-to-face appointment with them this week. If all goes to plan I should be returned to previous lofty status, and can sort out getting my bike to fit. This may require some tweaks to the prosthetics but, as with so many of my physical adventures, we won’t know until we try. Watch this space.

Thank you for reading.