Thanks for taking the time to stop by!

If you're here, odds are you might already have some idea of why I would be fundraising for the MS Society in memory of my dad. Regardless, it's rare I write anything at all these days, so I'll dust off my English GCSE and get something down here for those interested or bored enough to read it.

I'm running this marathon for my mum and dad, fundraising for a charity that is close to both of their hearts. My mum has had a diagnosis of MS for decades now, and in her name Dad was a committed fundraiser for various MS charities, for her, for many years. His is a legacy I will continue by doing this, and I hope to make him proud.

Jon Pennington

Dad died on 29th March 2016, six months after receiving a diagnosis of transitional cell carcinoma. Both he and we received incredible support from our friends and family, without whom the journey would have been (though it is hard to imagine) so much more difficult.

There he is. Luminous yellow and intense. Both were quite out of character for him, in truth, but he had a fondness for this photo.

Those of you who didn't have the pleasure of meeting him should be in no doubt that you would have absolutely loved him, just ask any of us who did. He was interesting because he was witty and clever and curious, certainly, but more than that he was kind, generous, selfless to a fault and gave great hugs. I really couldn't have asked for a better dad. I've been told by people before that I remind them of him; it's hard to think of a greater compliment.

Unless they're talking about how similar we look, of course, in which case I shall be slightly offended, and can't say I've ever seen the resemblance.

Dad ran the London Marathon a few times for the MS society. His first was while mum was four months pregnant with me, in 1998. He was always very proud of having run the marathon when he was younger, though he'd wished for faster times, and he had hoped to one day go back and beat his old PB. If he had gotten that chance, he would certainly have taken it to continue raising money to fight MS on behalf of his wife.

Cath Dimblebee

If you think Dad sounded cool, just wait until you hear about Mum.

This is a photo we took last year, on Mum's first trip out in her wheelchair after a long stint in hospital. As you can tell by our smiles, we were completely unaware of the downpour we were about to walk into; we spent most of our time outside huddled under an umbrella. Worth it, though.

Mum has been diagnosed with MS for as long as I can remember, though growing up I can't say I noticed it at all. Nevertheless, MS has taken its toll and recent years have made us all too familiar with hospitals, wheelchairs and at-home carers. The support we have received from our ever-reliable friends and family, as well as an array of staff and volunteers from across the MS Society, the NHS and different care agencies, has been unwavering. It has helped the transition to this 'new normal' go far more easily than it might have done. The MS society, in particular, has provided practical and emotional support, offering groups and physiotherapy that have really helped over the last few years.

It is a testament to Mum's strength of character (or perhaps stubbornness) how easy it can be for me to forget she has MS at all, even now. Sat at home watching the TV with her, talking about films or politics or gossiping about everyone else; it could just as well be ten years ago, when we were sat doing exactly the same.

She has always been powerfully driven and tried, with occasional success, to nurture that same drive in her children. Her having been a teacher probably helped with this, as she showed a degree of patience and competence in parenting that can only really be described as 'professional'. It isn't hard for me to believe that she was an excellent teacher at work, as I know well that she was an excellent teacher at home.

A coaster she bought me, embossed with the words 'GET STUFF DONE', takes me back to her voice bellowing those same words up the stairs every few seconds or so (as I remember it), for 18 solid years.

While I may never develop her baffling work ethic, I am very proud to be able to say that both myself and my sibling hold values she instilled in us very close to our hearts. Openness, patience and treating everyone equally are as important to us as they are to her, and speaking for myself I can say with confidence that I wouldn't be halfway to where I am now if it weren't for the dazzling example of humanity that she sets.

The Run

It is for these two, then, that I am running the London Marathon. I'm sure you can understand why.

I did a lot of running growing up, though I can't say that's made the training a great deal easier. I've been building up distance slowly and so far managed to avoid any lasting injury, though I have to say I am missing the days where I only had to keep pace with my six year old sibling on a school field.

I've been applying for the ballot since I was 17, and am thrilled to finally be able to go. I am proud to be following in my dad's footsteps, and even prouder to know that whatever money I raise will go to such a worthy cause.

Thanks, to the two or three of you that made it to the end of my ramble. No prizes for your dedication down here, I'm afraid, just a polite request for any loose change you might be able to spare to go to a supremely important charity. If it helps at all, I promise that this run is going to hurt!

Thanks for your generosity.

Love and hugs,

Nathan xxx