sean cox

Tomorrow is August 1st, and that means we’re just 4 weeks away from Blue September. Time to get serious about training.

I’m in decent shape but to take on this challenge properly, I need to shed a few kilos and lock in a structured training plan.

Right now, I’m running around 50 km a week and biking about 150 km. But to meet the demands of this challenge, I’ll need to ramp that up to 70 km running and 280 km cycling per week. Oh, and let’s not forget the swim.

This isn’t about high-end gear or expensive tech.No carbon-plated running shoes. No $10K time trial bike with aero wheels. I’ll be doing this with regular gear, the kind of stuff you’d find in most Kiwi garages. A standard road bike. My trusty old training shoes. Just me, showing up.

Because this challenge isn’t about flash.It’s about commitment.It’s about honouring my Dad.It’s about raising awareness and funds for the fight against prostate cancer.

Why I'm Doing This?

Ten years ago, I lost my dad to cancer. He was 73. Not a day goes by without a moment of “He’d love this” or “Wish I could ask him that.”

Grief doesn’t disappear. It just changes shape.

In 2021, I laced up and ran 73 km through Riverhead Forest on what would have been his 80th birthday, no race, no crowds, just a promise kept.

Then, I rode 3,500 km solo from Auckland to Bluff. Two months on the road, alone with my thoughts, my bike, and the open country. And earlier this year, I hiked the Annapurna Circuit, crossing the 5,416m Thorong La Pass, step by step, breath by breath, memory by memory.

Now, I’m back on home soil for Challenge Three. Starting September 23rd, the day my Dad passed, I’ll be completing 30 triathlons in 30 days, finishing on what would have been his 84th birthday.

Will You Support Me This Blue September?

Prostate cancer is the most diagnosed cancer in Kiwi men. It’s taking too many good people.

This September, I’m using my body to spark a conversation and hopefully, raise funds that can help save lives.

Your donation helps

* Fund life-saving research 

* Provide support for men going through diagnosis and treatment 

* Raise awareness so more blokes get tested in time

This isn’t just about finishing the challenge.It’s about starting something bigger.

Donate now.Share this with someone you care about.Let’s tackle prostate cancer together.

https://www.blueseptember.org.nz/fundraisers/seancox 

Ten years ago, I lost my dad to cancer, he was 73. Not a day passes where I don’t think, He’d love this, or Wish I could ask him that. Grief doesn’t disappear. It just finds new places to live. At first, I didn’t know where to put it. In 2021, five years after my last big endurance challenge, something inside me stirred. I signed up for the Taupō Ultra Marathon, scheduled for October 16th, which would have been Dad’s 80th birthday. But when lockdowns shut the country down, the Taupo ultra was postponed to Dec 19th. On the day itself, I laced up, packed light, and ran 73 kilometres, one for every year of his life through the tangled trails of Riverhead Forest. No finish line. No crowds. Just purpose.https://www.strava.com/activities/6119111215 

Doing this is a privilege, I reminded myself, again and again, as my legs turned over in the silence. Many fighting cancer never get the chance. That solo run cracked something open in me. A new dialogue began, between loss and momentum, between memory and movement. This year marks a decade since he passed. And something deeper called. I didn’t want to commemorate him by standing still. So I rode. Challenge One: Bikepacking 3,500 km from Auckland to Bluff, solo, unsupported. Just me, my bike, a tent, a sleeping bag, and a tiny stove. For 2 months, I pedaled through wind and wonder, rain and resolve. At times I felt invincible; other times, like a man unraveled. Every hill climbed was a metaphor. Every descent, a release. https://www.strava.com/activities/13349207073 

And I came to see that cycling, like life, doesn’t demand perfection, only presence. It doesn’t care how fast you go, only that you keep moving. Some days I rode with strength, chasing sunlight through valleys and along open coastlines. Other days were quieter, head down, legs aching, skies grey. But I kept turning the pedals. Not to escape the past, but to embrace what was unfolding. With each kilometre, I felt something shift, a softening, a deepening, a quiet return of belief. By the time I reached Bluff, I hadn’t just completed a journey, I had reconnected with something vital. Not just endurance, but hope. Not just distance, but direction. What began as a ride to honor the past became a ride toward what’s next, with a clearer mind, a steadier heart, and a renewed sense of what’s possible.

Then I flew. Challenge Two: Trekking the Annapurna Circuit, from Besisahar to Muktinath via the Thorong La Pass. Five weeks on foot, tracing ancient trails carved into Himalayan cliffsides, beneath skies that shifted from sapphire to steel. Every step brought altitude, and with it, awe. The mountains were cathedral-like, vast, solemn, indifferent. They didn’t care who I was or what I carried, only that I walked with humility. Along the way, I met the Nepalese people, quietly resilient, warm beyond words. A smile, a shared cup of tea, a nod of understanding that crossed language. In stone villages and sacred valleys, I passed spinning prayer wheels, fluttering flags, and temples folded into the earth like secrets. There’s a stillness in those places, a sense that time moves differently, or maybe not at all. At the Thorong La Pass, 5,416 metres above sea level, the wind cut through everything, except the memory of why I’d come. To honor Dad. https://www.strava.com/activities/14152090992 

Challenge Three begins this September 23rd, the day Dad passed. I’ll be completing 30 triathlons, or the equivalent distance in swimming, cycling, and running, over 30 consecutive days, finishing on what would have been his 84th birthday, October 16th.Every day, a swim, a ride, and a run. Brutal? Absolutely. But it’s not about perfection. It’s about showing up. It’s about motion as medicine. It’s about proving that rebirth doesn’t need to be dramatic, it can come through discipline, repetition, and the quiet act of choosing to begin again. In the end, these journeys aren’t about endurance. They’re about renewal. They’re about reclaiming hope, not as a vague, fluffy concept, but as a muscle we can strengthen. A fire we can feed. A path we can walk, even when we’re not sure where it leads.