I can't run.

That’s what I told myself for years after recovering from ACL/MCL surgery. So, I threw myself into strength training and never looked back. Running just wasn’t for me—or so I thought.

Eight months ago today, I gave up alcohol. It was no longer serving me, and life has been infinitely better without it. But the real turning point? A brutal hangover. Feeling sluggish, low, and frustrated, I laced up my trainers and dragged myself out for a 5K.

28 minutes later, I nearly threw up.

And just like that, I became the ultimate midlife cliché:

40, sober, and running.

So, why a marathon?

Because I needed something that would truly challenge me—physically and mentally. Something to reshape my mindset. Something to take my focus away from what I’d given up and put it toward what I was building.

Nothing quite prepares you for the moment you casually say, “Think I’ll go knock out 22K this morning—see you in a bit.”

But this is about more than just me.

Last year, I was invited to a gaming initiative by the kind folks at Great Ormond Street Hospital (GOSH). What they didn’t know was that my younger brother, Mark, spent a significant part of his early years there.

GOSH supported him—and my parents—in ways that made life somewhat manageable, despite having two other children at home who also needed their love and attention.

After that evening I reached out, wanting to do more—leveraging my network in gaming to help raise awareness and funds. After a few great conversations, they invited me in for a tour of the hospital.

And that’s when it hit me.

As a dad of two young kids, I couldn’t help but put myself in the shoes of the parents I saw there—standing in line at the canteen, sitting in waiting rooms, walking back to the small apartments the hospital provides so they can stay close to their child during treatment.

Then, at the end of the tour, I visited a small chapel within GOSH. I sat down and felt everything. Hope. Desperation. The weight of whispered prayers. It was thick in the air—like smoke. The conversations that room has witnessed over the years must be as heartbreaking as they are spiritually uplifting.

I walked out knowing one thing: I had to do something.

How You Can Help?

At first, I set out to run this marathon for me. Now? I'm running it for them—for the kids who are fighting battles far tougher than a race, for the parents holding onto hope, and for the people at GOSH who do life-changing work every single day.

And this is where you come in.

All I ask is that you click the link and donate—anything.

£1 is amazing. I know a lot of people will see this. If everyone reading donated just £1, I’d hit my target in a matter of hours.

If you’ve read this far, I want you to know this:

When I cross that finish line, it will mean so much more than just another midlife crisis marathon.

It will mean hope.

It will mean help.

It will mean a future for children who need it most.