Andrew lives with Becker muscular dystrophy. In the last year, he’s gone from thinking he couldn’t run at all, to running 5ks. He shares how his inability to be sporty at school affected his self-esteem, how he’s worked on his running, and the new found confidence talking openly about his condition has given him.
‘I couldn’t even run 100 metres at school, now I’m running 5ks — here’s what I’ve learnt.”
If you’d told 16-year-old me — who had to be carried off a scout walk he couldn’t finish — that one day I’d run 5K, I’d have laughed. Or cried. Maybe both. But here I am… a few months ago, I was running a mile. The next day, I ran two. By the end of the week, I’d hit 5K. I don’t run fast. I don’t run gracefully. But I run. And that blows my mind.
Being diagnosed with Becker really impacted my confidence
Back in school, I didn’t know I had Becker muscular dystrophy. I just knew exercise felt impossible. My legs cramped constantly. Cross-country filled me with dread. One time, I couldn’t finish a local walk and had to be carried the last two miles. That’s when my mum realised something wasn’t right.
I remember having tests in a room with 30 consultants, all asking me to sit, stand, walk, measuring everything from my calves to my gait. Then came the muscle biopsy — and the unforgettable moment the doctor turned mid-procedure and said, “Don’t worry, that thud was just your mum fainting.”
When I got diagnosed with Becker, my mum read about it before I did. I think she found the worst-case scenarios online, and for a while, that unspoken fear consumed us.
At school, it made me different. If you weren’t sporty, you weren’t popular. And I definitely wasn’t. I was called “left legs” because of how I ran. I was really lucky to have an amazing PE teacher, though, who could see my struggles. When the others did cross-country, he said, “Why don’t you play table tennis instead?” He just got it. I’ve seen him at Brentford games since then and he’s such a great guy — I’ll never forget his kindness.
Learning to defy my own expectations and trust my body
Fast forward to last year and I left my job to start my own business. Leaving work gave me time to work on myself. I started going on walks every day and surprised myself by building up to nine miles a day. It gave me clarity and space to think, which I hadn’t realised I’d needed. And then one day, I just thought: “I’ve always wanted to run. Why not now?”
In the back of my mind, I’ve always wanted to run a marathon, but that felt like saying I wanted to go to the moon. There was the small possibility of doing a casual run, though, so I decided to jog a bit. My brother-in-law, who’s a personal trainer, had told me about Couch to 5K, where you run a bit, walk a bit and build up over time. But I didn’t stop.
“I kept going. Half a mile. Then three-quarters. Then… a full mile. I looked at my watch and shed a tear.”
I don’t really know how I got to this point if I’m honest. I’ve lost about five stone over the years. That probably helped. Less strain on already struggling muscles. I can’t build muscle, but walking and swimming helped with endurance. I’ve found what works for me.
“And I think that’s key for anyone with a muscle weakening condition — don’t be afraid to simply try.”
Your story still matters, even if it’s different from someone else’s
I never used to talk about having muscular dystrophy. I downplayed it. I’d say, “I’m a 0.5 on a scale of 10,” because I saw others much more affected than me. But it still impacted me, particularly around my confidence. When you can’t do what others can, it gets in your head.
Growing up without knowing what was ‘wrong’, then being too afraid to tell people once I did.
“I didn’t want sympathy. Or to feel like I was stealing attention from those who had it worse. But I’ve learned something important: your story still matters, even if it’s different from someone else’s. And speaking openly about my condition has been really freeing for me.”
Challenging myself
I’m still deciding what I want to set as my next goal. Maybe a 10K run. Maybe a long-distance charity walk. My cousin suggested doing the Aylesbury Loop, which is a 32 mile walk. Last year I would have thought he was going mad suggesting such a challenge, but now it’s a possibility. I did the London to Brighton bike ride back in 2007, but so many other fundraising challenges were off limits for me because I couldn’t run. Now I want to do more, because I can.
