Anyone who knows me knows I hate running. So why have I signed myself up for what would ordinarily be my idea of hell? Well, along with many wonderful things, I inherited my hatred of running from my Dad, whose fastest pace couldn’t even be described as a fast walk let alone a run. However, what I also gained from Dad was an unwavering stubbornness, a desire to help others and a confidence (arrogance?) that us Bartles can do anything we set our minds to.

Dad was the life and soul of every party he entered, so when he was diagnosed with lung and brain cancer in October 2017, our lives were turned upside down. As his illness worsened, Dad maintained the same infectious energy, always looking on the bright side of life as his favourite Monty Python song says. But when cancer becomes part of your life, it is not always possible to find a bright side. There are scary parts, infuriating parts, lonely parts and overwhelmingly sad parts. In those moments when it felt like all positivity and hope were pointless, it was our lovely friends, the staff at the local hospital and the Sue Ryder team that supported us.

Above all else, what Sue Ryder provided was choice - something that is totally taken from you when someone you love is given a terminal diagnosis. When Dad knew he was ready to go, Sue Ryder gave him the choice to make his last days as comfortable for him and us as possible. At the Nettlebed Hospice, the moments of peace, light and normality we experienced as a family will endure as much as the sadness. Walks around the grounds with our dog Doris, who was allowed in for cuddles with Dad, drawings from family friends on the walls, and the family flat where we could take a breather knowing we were close by.

When Dad died on May 4th 2018, we were shown compassion and kindness by everyone, those who knew Dad and us, and those who didn’t. This is what Sue Ryder represents to me - love, kindness, hope. Sue Ryder shows that when the world feels it’s ending, there are always things and people which make it easier to rejoin normal life again.

And I still haven’t properly answered my question - why am I doing this? When I run this marathon it will be (almost) 7 years since Dad died. I will be 21, nearly 22, but I will never forget how I felt at 14, and I want to do what I can to ensure that every daughter, son, brother, sister, mother, father, friend and family member of someone who needs palliative care has the choices we were given. It costs around £3244 for someone to be cared for in their final days by a Sue Ryder nurse at home. If the entirely comedic thought of me (?!) running a marathon can do anything, I hope it will be that it raises enough money for another family to experience the compassion and kindness they so deserve.

If you can donate anything I would so greatly appreciate it, and please share this page as well!

And Dad, I know this is crazy but you did always say you could have run a marathon if Mum hadn’t stopped you because of the Lycra… I love you x