I am hugely excited, nervous and honoured to be running the 2026 London Marathon, raising money for Mind, a charity that does fantastic work.

In 2001, when I was eight years old, my dad took his own life. He was 35.

It’s something I’ve rarely spoken about publicly, partly because back then, we didn’t really talk about it as a family. There was no counselling, no community support, no mental health education at school. We just carried on. For all of my life, I did the same.

But now, as I approach the age he was when he took his own life and as a dad to two young children of my own, I find myself thinking about him more than ever. I think about what he must have been going through. I wonder what support he might have needed and I ask myself what might have been different if his struggle had happened today.

That’s why I’m running the 2026 London Marathon in aid of Mind.

Every week in the UK, around 115 people die by suicide, 75% of them are men. It’s the single biggest killer of men under 50. Behind each of those numbers is a family like mine. A story like mine. A child left without a parent. A silence and a thousand unanswered questions.

I’ve never personally experienced mental illness but that doesn’t mean I haven’t felt its effects, and it doesn’t mean I can’t do something about it.

By running this marathon, I want to honour my dad’s memory. I want to break the silence that’s lasted 24 years, and I want to help make sure that other dads, sons, brothers, and friends get the help they need before it’s too late.

Since being offered this charity place by Mind, I’ve spoken more about what happened to my dad than I have in my entire adult life. When I received my place from Mind, my first thought wasn’t the training or race day. It was the immense responsibility that I felt to share what happened, in the hope it might help someone else.

Mind does incredible work, providing therapy, campaigning for better services, supporting those in crisis, or helping people understand what they’re going through. They fight for people who feel like they’ve run out of options.

If my dad had access to that kind of support in 2001, I truly believe he might still be here.

So this one’s for him and for every person who’s ever felt like they couldn’t carry on.

Please donate if you can, but more importantly, talk, listen, and look out for the people around you.

Let’s keep the conversation going.

Thank you!

Luke