On 26th April I’ll be running the London Marathon for St Michael’s Hospice — a place that means more to me and my family than I can properly put into words… but I’m going to try.

I was lucky enough to get a ballot place in 2025 (after entering on my birthday, post a couple of glasses of wine — clearly excellent decision-making). People enter for years without getting a spot, so I thought my chances were slim. Somehow, my name came out of the hat!

Sadly, just 2 weeks into training, I broke a bone in my foot. Instead of pounding the pavements, I spent 8 weeks in what I fondly refer to as “the boot of shame.” I was devastated and had to defer my place to this year. But here we are — back in the trainers and going well, I even managed a half marathon PB last weekend. So now there’s really no excuse.

I’m running for St Michael’s because they cared for both my parents at the end of their lives.

Dad died in 2012 after a long battle with MS. Even when he couldn’t talk towards the end, he still lit up when he was around his family. He still had that unmistakable twinkle in his eye and continued teasing us all – especially his grandchildren, right to the very end — an Irishman through and through. Some of my earliest memories are of sitting snuggled up next to him on a Sunday morning watching the London Marathon on TV. I wasn’t sporty at all back then (honestly, I’m not sure he’d quite believe I’m now voluntarily running 26.2 miles), but those mornings stuck with me.

Mum died in 2020 after living with COPD and vascular dementia. It was incredibly tough to watch, but she kept her sense of humour right to the end. She and Dad brought the 4 of us up with so much love and laughter — something I’m endlessly grateful for and Iain and I have tried to recreate in our home.

St Michael’s Hospice gave Mum and Dad dignity, comfort and compassion in their final days. They also supported us as a family during the hardest moments of our lives. That kind of care is priceless.

So when my legs start complaining somewhere around mile 18, I’ll be thinking of Mum and Dad — and probably promising them I’ll never sign up for anything like this again.

If you’re able to donate, however big or small, I would be so grateful. Your support will help St Michael’s continue providing incredible care to other families who need it.

Thank you for cheering me on, for tolerating my transition into ‘marathon bore’, the endless training chat, the moaning, and for helping me turn a slightly wine-fuelled ballot entry into something meaningful.

Now please do donate if you can… so it’s worth the blisters.