I’ve been called many things in my life, but “natural runner” is not one. As a man whose favourite ‘-ings’ have always been more of the eating, drinking and lounging variety, I’ve occasionally been spotted walking, very rarely jogging and only seen running in the direst of emergencies. The last time I hit a full sprint, I was chasing an ice cream van. But lockdown changed all that.

I was initially nominated for the ‘Run 5, Donate £5, Nominate 5’ thing that did the rounds. Somehow 5km became 10km. I couldn’t believe it. Surely I’d never be able to run a half marathon? Long story short - against all odds - I got bitten by the running bug. Within 12 months, I’d run 24 half marathons and one full marathon - completely on my own, running 8 laps of an abandoned airfield. In the process I lost over 3 stone and it’s no exaggeration to say it completely changed my life.

If you follow me on social media (and if you’re kind enough to be here, chances are you do) you’ll have followed a lot of this over the last few years. You’re probably even one of the many people throughout that journey who offered to sponsor me and was rightly shocked when I said I was “just doing it for fun”.

With time, I’ve come to better understand my motivations. Yes, it was something to do at a time when my social calendar was a barren wasteland. It was a great opportunity to see what I was capable of – to see just how far and how fast I could run. But more than that, it was a chance to be a better man. To drastically improve my health but also to teach myself some valuable lessons in endurance, perseverance, patience and dedication. And when things got hard – which they often did – the thought that kept me going was the example I wanted to set for my children. That’s how I ran my first marathon. Wimpering my way round north Essex, telling myself my kids deserve better than this - so suck it up and get it done.  

Let’s be frank, my kids are spoilt rotten. They are the apple of our eye and want for nothing. There are millions of children out there who aren’t remotely so lucky. Kids starved of food, attention or love. So this time I’m not running for my pampered kids – I’m running for those who really need it.

It would mean the world to me if you’d help me smash my fundraising target. Hopefully you’re doing it for the kids but, if not, know that your donation will also mean hours of torture for me. Months of running in the dark, the rain and the (god-willing) scorching summer sun. Daily sessions with the dreaded foam roller. I shall seldom walk down a set of stairs without waddling like a duck and groaning like a geriatric. Come the 3^rd October, I’ll be practically bed ridden. And you – with your boundless generosity/mischievous schadenfreude – will be the one who put me there. Either way, thank you.