Charlotte's Reason to Run London Marathon

“In just eight days, our lives changed forever. Mine changed forever.

On 14 December 2024, my stepdad was admitted to hospital with problems with his speech and motor function.

He was scanned and treated, and four days later we were told the words no family is ever prepared to hear: he had a tumour on his brain. We didn’t yet know whether it was Stage 3 or Stage 4. He was scheduled for a biopsy on 23rd December.

What should have been a routine procedure became a tragedy.

During the biopsy, he suffered a severe and unexpected bleed. In a matter of hours, everything changed. We were able to be at his bedside, to hold him and lie with him so he wasn’t alone. He fought until he was ready, and at 3:30am on Christmas Eve morning, he left this world.

I will never forget the last time we saw each other. The last conversation we had. Those moments replay in my mind.

My stepdad raised me from a young age. He was the first man I ever felt safe with, the first man I trusted, the first man I loved. In every way that matters, he was my dad — the best dad I could ever have asked for. He taught me so much about life, but most of all he taught me to live it fully: to treat every day as if it’s your last and to love the life you live.

My mum has lost her soulmate, her world, her best friend. As a family, we relive those final days over and over, wondering what could have been different.

Later, we were told he would have been diagnosed with a Stage 4 high-grade malignant glioma. We likely would not have had long with him, and that time may have been filled with pain and the slow loss of the man he was. Our only comfort is that he did not suffer, and he passed peacefully with us beside him.

My heart breaks every single day. He is my first thought in the morning and my last thought at night. If I’m lucky, I see him in my dreams. I still don’t fully understand how to live in a world where he doesn’t exist. He has left a space that can never be filled. He was warmth, safety and steady love.

That is why I am running the London Marathon for Brain Research UK.

I can’t change what happened to us. But if research means another family gets more time, earlier answers, or even hope where we had none, then every mile will be for him.

He would probably think I’m slightly crazy for taking on London. But I know he would also be incredibly proud. He always supported my running, and I know that if he were still here, he would be there on the sidelines.

Since he can’t be there in person, I will carry him with me every single step of the way.