A Marathon of Love, Loss and Hope (1) – October 2026
It’s a funny thing when some of the best and very worst days of your life collide, but that’s exactly what happened for me on 26.04.26 when I took part in the London Marathon, and it wasn’t just because I ran a PB! It certainly wasn’t because I ran it fast, I absolutely didn’t, and I didn’t get the time I wanted. But I got the medal, and an utterly amazing experience that will last me a lifetime.
If you’ve never done it, or been down to watch, and especially if you aren’t a runner, you probably think it sounds absolutely nuts to say this, but that day was one of the best days of my life. Yes, it hurt, of course it hurt. I’d challenge anyone who runs a marathon to say that the last 2 miles are anything other than absolute torture, and, of course, I lost the obligatory toenail (standard) and had a pretty impressive toe-length blister to show for it, but I loved every single minute of it, well almost.
So, why was it so utterly amazing? As someone who has previous lived and worked in London, I can honestly say I’ve never seen the Capital look so beautiful or been prouder of it. It was a warm, sunny day (far too warm for marathon running in all honesty), and from the moment I arrived at Blackheath to the moment I got back on my coach home on Waterloo Bridge, I saw and felt nothing but the very best of human experience. Everything was planned and organised to perfection. Every single person I encountered had nothing but a smile and a word of encouragement for everyone else around them- whether a runner, a supporter, a spectator, a volunteer, a charity worker, or medic, or a police officer, everyone was united in one common purpose- to wish each other well and hope every single runner how started that race got safely over the finish line and had an incredible day. ‘Keep going mate’ was a regular refrain from one runner to another, mile after mile.
I was overwhelmed by the sheer number of people taking part but, moreover, the thousands upon thousands of people who gave up their time voluntarily to line the course either in an official capacity, manning water stations, or marshalling, or just those who had come out to watch. The homemade signs were a particular highlight- funny and heartfelt in equal measure, ‘remember this was a choice!!’ perhaps my personal favourite. They really helped. Never have I been more grateful to see people crowding outside pubs, drinking beer or some other tipple of choice at 11am on a Sunday singing and dancing along to music blasting out from a loudspeaker. Under any other circumstances, we’d all class that as seriously antisocial behaviour but on marathon day, that’s gold dust! That keeps you going. That makes you smile. That makes you stop questioning your life choices for just a few minutes. I remember dancing and singing my way (when I had enough breath) down various sections of the route, in between munching ice cubes, and swigging electrolytes, feeling an overwhelming sensation of joy. If that was you, thank you! The difference you made is unmeasurable.
What really got me was the kids. So many thousands of kids spending their Sunday handing out orange segments, pickle juice and sweets to thousands of strangers they’d never meet and who, for a multitude of diverse reasons, had decided to take on the 26.2-mile challenge. On paper, the hundreds of thousands of people who all gathered in the capital that day were, for the most part, utterly unconnected. Our paths will probably never cross again and yet, on that day, we were all connected by intent, by a mission and by kindness.
That day reminded me that there is far more that unites us as people than that which divides us, we have more in common than we think.
Sadly, one of those things is grief. What is it they say? There are only two things in life that we can be sure of, death and taxes. And with every death comes an experience of grief, and that is never truer nor more painful than when a baby dies. Baby loss touches so many more of us than we realise and it’s only since I became brave enough to openly talk about my loss of my son, Zachary, late into pregnancy 14 years ago, that I have realised just how many people are affected by this tragedy and how utterly unprepared we are for it as expectant mothers, as couples, as families, as friends, and especially as coworkers and employers.
When I lost Zach, I reached out to Sands Who we are | Sands – Saving babies’ lives. Supporting bereaved families., who were amazing, and I have continued to reach out to them periodically across all 14 subsequent years because, when you lose a child, that experience stays with you forever. Every ‘should have been’ birthday, mothers’ / fathers’ day, Christmas, anniversary, and special occasion, with what might have been. Whilst the feelings of intense pain, sadness and loss you feel initially may fade with time, they are always in the background, never so far away that a song, the sound or sight of your baby’s name, a random memory, or some other seemingly innocuous trigger can’t take you right back there in an instant. You don’t ever stop grieving, you just find better ways to cope with it and to minimise its impact on your life.
Having connected with Leila Hobart at Little Wings of Hope Little Wings of Hope | baby loss charity essex last year when we made our film, Talking About Baby Loss, I decided to use my marathon experience to raise funds for this incredible local charity. Knowing first hand as I do how much support you need when you suffer a loss, I understand just how important charities like Litte Wings are, and how important it is just to be able to pick up the phone and talk to someone about how you are feeling- it’s not an optional add-on, it’s a vital lifeline for families grieving the loss of their precious, often long-hoped-for and already much loved child.
So, I ran for Zach, and I ran for every single precious baby lost, and for everyone who mourns their loss. Across every mile of the course, whenever it got tough, when my legs started screaming at me and the Mall felt like it was hundreds of miles away, I remembered that I was running for my baby son, and that I was doing something valuable and worthwhile in his memory, and for all those precious children who are taken from us far too soon.
I’m so grateful to everyone who was kind and generous enough to sponsor me because I know for certain that every penny will make a real difference to someone in one of the worst moments of their life.
My medal hangs now with pride in my bedroom and, whenever I look at it, I remember my son, I remember my incredible day and I choose to remind myself that life is full of joyful moments, even when you’re running a marathon.
#AlwaysLovedNeverForgotten
