This is the easy bit. 

It's no exaggeration to say my memories of reading (Welshman) Roald Dahl's books when I was a kid are amongst my happiest. I used to go on holiday with my Dad and chortle and snort for days as I poured over each brilliant story. At the time I thought my barks of joy were driving my old man mad but now I'm a Dad I get it. He would have been beaming with pleasure and pride knowing that his son was starting to love books as much as him. Which I totally went on to do.

So I definitely feel I owe (Welshman) Roald Dahl something. The charity set up in his name are right to call themselves marvellous: they simply set out to make the lives of seriously ill children better. There isn't a day goes by where I don't look at my glorious son and realise how lucky I am that he is healthy. Roald Dahl's Marvellous Children's Charity help those who can't do that. I've suggested they re-brand as Roald Dahl's frankly magnificent bunch of mega-heroes, but they haven't replied to that email. Which is a bit rude. 

I'm also doing this on my 35th birthday. My actual birthday. Which seems fitting - me running for 10 000 metres in high summer will be comparable with, if not possibly worse than, the pain my mother endured 35 years earlier in order to provide the planet with me. Really. I mean it. Just look at the photo of me. That was before the run.

Please give what you can. Anything that you can spare would make you a deeply marvellous mega-hero.

Thanks for taking the time to visit my JustGiving page.

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