Andy Hood.

Balls to Cancer: The Month I Collected Runners Like Pokémon

If you dangle the best running medal ever created in front of me, I’m basically a magpie in Lycra. So when the Robin Cancer Trust launched The Big Ballsy 100—a virtual 100K challenge throughout November, complete with a glorious, giant, shiny pair of… medals—I was absolutely in.

I’ve known Toby, the Trust’s CEO and professional bringer-of-chaos, for a couple of years. We’ve run together, I’ve appeared on their podcast, and I’ve even supported him through some of his own ridiculous ultras. So signing up felt less like a decision and more like fate whispering, “Go forth, and run for the testes.”

But simply completing 100K? Boring. Predictable. Not remotely ballsy enough. If this challenge was about raising awareness for testicular cancer, then I wanted to do it loudly, weirdly, and with maximum fun. More energy. More eyeballs. More conversations about balls.

So I created a challenge within a challenge:Run 100K with 100 different people, from all over the world.

In person. Virtually. Anyone willing to run, jog, shuffle, or hobble beside me while chatting testicle health like it was the most normal thing in the world.

I lobbed the idea onto social media and expected perhaps a handful of pity-volunteers. Instead—BOOM—my inbox went off like fireworks. Apparently running for balls is incredibly popular.

I kicked off the month with YouTuber Ryan Van Duzer (“Duzer”) from Colorado. Running virtually with him is like being chased by an enthusiastic Labrador—infectious energy, non-stop positivity, and you can’t help but smile the whole time.

Then the madness snowballed.I ran with a team of 40 rugby lads whose collective quad mass could probably shift tectonic plates. I ran in Lanzarote with friends who had technically gone on holiday to relax, but still agreed to trot around in the sun with me. I grabbed Danny from parkrun and he became part of the challenge before he really knew what was happening.

I even ran with a local DJ, who not only joined me on the road but then dragged me onto live radio to talk about the run, the cause, and—of course—balls. Nothing wakes you up like discussing testicular self-checks over the airwaves while imagining entire counties spitting out their morning coffee.

The crew from show manufacturer Mount2Coast also joined me, proving they’re excellent at both building epic experiences and surviving my chat about testicular cancer for several kilometres. Heroes.

I ran virtually with people in over a dozen countries. Every single run came with photos, posts, engagement, and comments ranging from “This is amazing!” to “Why are you like this?” The message—check your balls, lads—was getting out there.

And somehow… I didn’t run with just 100 people.I ran with 107 absolute legends.

Then the medal arrived. The magnificent, oversized, gloriously literal Big Ballsy medal. A work of art. Michelangelo would’ve nodded approvingly.

Was the month chaotic? Yes.Exhausting? Absolutely.Worth it? Every step.

Because saving lives is worth going the extra mile for—one pair of balls at a time.