London Marathon has become a way of keeping my dad close: Joe’s story

Running the London Marathon wasn’t something I ever thought I’d do again. But this year, fifteen years after my first marathon, I stood on the start line for a very different reason – to remember my dad, Roger, and to raise money for Sue Ryder, who cared for him in the final days of his life.

The 2026 TCS London Marathon was hard. I won't sugarcoat it! But what an incredible, life-affirming experience. I am so incredibly proud of the huge number of hours and miles I put into training, and most of all, the money I've managed to raise for Sue Ryder.

My dad was diagnosed with kidney cancer in 2016. By 2018, the cancer had spread to his lungs, bones and brain. He had brain surgery that year to remove tumours, and for a while, we were hopeful.

However, that Christmas, Dad suffered a stroke. I remember sitting in a hospital meeting when doctors started talking about palliative care. We understood the words, but emotionally, we were lost. We walked out thinking, 'What on earth has just happened?' 'Where do you even go from here?'

Sue Ryder Duchess of Kent Hospice was mentioned, and brilliantly for us all, they had a place for Dad. I think what really blew my mind at that point is, well, who's paying for this? How does that work?

But I didn’t ask many more questions because at that moment, we were just grateful for the support.

I honestly don’t know where we would have been without the hospice.

Knowing there were people there 24 hours a day, not just professionals doing a job, but people who genuinely cared, meant everything. Things moved at a gentler pace than in hospital. We could ask questions in our own time. There was space to breathe.

Mum went from being Dad’s full-time carer back to being his wife again. Dad built relationships with the staff, who looked after him and that mattered. He trusted them, and he didn’t give his trust easily.

The hospice team even supported Dad to come home for a while. When his condition worsened and he realised he needed to return to the hospice, they managed to bring him back to the very same room. That meant more than I can describe.

In his final moments, we were all there together at his bedside. It was unimaginably hard, but also comforting. If it had to happen, that’s how we would have wanted it to be.

It was only later that I began thinking about how palliative care is funded. I almost felt guilty; guilty that Dad had been lucky enough to receive such incredible care, knowing that most hospice services rely on donations.

That’s when I knew I wanted to give something back. Running felt like the right way to do that.

I’m not a regular runner. I ran the London Marathon 15 years ago, and honestly, I never imagined I’d do another. But this felt different. This felt important.

My dad was a sprinter when he was younger, he even made the local paper, so maybe there’s something genetic in this. However, for me, this marathon wasn't about times or proving anything.

Training started in Spain, a place filled with memories of family holidays. We used to spend six to eight weeks there every summer, and it reminds me so much of Dad.

He was fun-loving, always at the centre of a joke or a bit of mischief. Running there felt like running alongside him.

In September, I ran the Great North Run in 2 hours 15 minutes. I eased off a bit over Christmas, but from January I properly got back into training.

This year is particularly emotional. I’m getting married just a couple of months after the marathon. Knowing Dad won’t be there is something that weighs heavily on me. But training has given me time to reflect to keep him involved in this chapter of my life.

In a strange way, running has become a space for remembering.

The run didn't go quite as I'd planned, with some serious muscle difficulty after mile 17 that lasted until the end of the race. I realised by mile 20, my goal now was to finish upright! But in a way, it allowed me to truly experience the incredible kindness and benevolence of total strangers.

Every time I had to walk off cramp (every mile), people were shouting my name and encouraging me to keep going. Total strangers, who had no idea who I was, and I had no idea who they were. We both would never see each other again, but they felt the need to give someone trying to do a good thing a boost. It was the most heartwarming and encouraging vote of confidence in humanity I think I'd experienced in a long time.

The Sue Ryder team has been incredible in this whole process, and I was delighted to meet my family at one of the cheer points, where I could see they had been welcomed. It was particularly moving to have my Mum there, who spent so much time with us in Sue Ryder Duchess of Kent Hospice with my Dad before he died. Thank you again, Sue Ryder, for your care for my Dad.

I was delighted to wake up the morning after and discover I'd raised over £7000. I hope this helps other families in the hardest of times. If you're considering running for Sue Ryder, absolutely do it.

Completing a marathon is a life-changing experience, but more than that, the money you raise will change other people's lives too.

We don’t talk about death and grief enough. If sharing my story has helped someone feel less alone, that means everything.