Five weeks.

That’s how long our little boy spent in NICU.

Five weeks of alarms, uncertainty, sleepless nights, difficult conversations, and hoping tomorrow would bring better news than today.

This isn’t just a half marathon for me. Every mile has a reason behind it.

I’m running for my little boy, who showed more strength in those first five weeks than I thought possible.

I’m running for the nurses and staff who cared for him and supported us through the hardest period of our lives. Their skill, compassion and reassurance made an impossible situation feel survivable.

I’m running for Dom. When people think about NICU, they often think about the mums, rightly so, but dads carry a different weight. They’re expected to stay strong, support everyone else, hold everything together, and somehow process their own fears at the same time.

I’m running for my parents, who quietly stepped in and kept our world turning. Feeding the cats, picking us up, dropping us off, checking in, and helping with all the little things that suddenly become enormous when your child is in hospital.

Most of all, I’m running for every family who has experienced NICU, and for those who are living it right now.

If you’re at the start of that journey, it can feel endless. The days are long, the setbacks are crushing, and it’s impossible to imagine life on the other side. But there is hope. There is light at the end of the tunnel.

I’m proud to be supporting Bliss, a charity that helps babies born premature or sick and the families who love them. They provide vital support, information and advocacy for families navigating neonatal care.

If you’d like to support my London Landmarks Half Marathon and help Bliss continue their incredible work, I’d be hugely grateful for any donation, big or small.

Thank you for helping me turn our experience into something positive.

13.1 miles. One thank you. Countless reasons to run.