Steffi’s London Marathon 2026 page
Steffi Marshall (Gray)
My Story
46 days, that’s the amount of time which Dad had from the day of his cancer diagnosis to the date he passed away in November 2024. Dad spent his final days at St. Barnabas Hospice in Lincoln, where he was provided with the best and most dignified care that we could have asked for.
Dad’s cancer diagnosis had come completely without warning and it very quickly consumed our lives, one devastating blow after another, in unbelievably close succession.
I am running the 2026 London Marathon, exactly 25 years on from when Dad ran it himself, to raise funds for St. Barnabas so that they can continue providing outstanding palliative care and to help more families like ours to cope with the unimaginable.
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If you’ve landed on this page it’s probably because you know me, my family or knew my amazing Dad, Paul. He was fit, fun to be around, kind towards others and the most caring Dad a girl could ask for. Dad was the one who got me into running when I was still at primary school. He ran the London Marathon twice (in 2000 and 2001) and it’s because of him that I continue to put myself through race torture on a fairly regular basis.
But if there’s anything which gives you an immediate perspective on life, it’s the shattering news that one of your loved ones has cancer. Unfortunately for us, that wasn’t the end of the nightmare. The cancer was so advanced that it couldn’t be treated and we found ourselves in the realms of palliative care, facing questions like ‘What does Dad want to do in the time he has left? Can he come home? How do we manage his pain?’
Dad’s personal goal was to see his 66th birthday (only eight months away) to get his state pension but we very sadly lost him in November 2024. The day he passed away was only 11 days after our son was born and the two of them never got to meet.
The support our family received from St. Barnabas was outstanding. The team acted quickly and were there for us at the worst time of our lives. I'm raising funds so that they can continue to be there for other families who find themselves, sometimes very suddenly, in a such a world of heartbreak and turmoil that it becomes hard to function, let alone process what is happening.
My maternity leave was a strange mix of beautiful happiness and unimaginable, indescribable loss. In the space of two weeks I had gained a son but lost a parent and it has been hard at times to find headspace to process the grief. Running is a great therapy for me and pacing it out on the pavement is sometimes just what I need.
A year on, life has a new routine and normality. We blow kisses to robins. We look for him in stars. We've done the year of 'firsts' - and they have been HARD. But I suppose the special dates will always be hard now. Yes, some time has passed. But the hole in our lives is still there as much as it ever was and it's so important for us to keep his memory alive, saying things he would have said, doing things he would have done.
Thank you SO MUCH for supporting me and St Barnabas Hospice, it means so much to me and my family. Now where did I leave my trainers...
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Any money you can donate will make a real difference to patients and families across Lincolnshire living with a life-limiting or terminal illness, ensuring St Barnabas can be there for them every day of the year.
Some examples of how funding may be used:
£20 enables St Barnabas to provide an hour of specialist at-home care to a patient living with a life-limiting or terminal illness.
£30 allows St Barnabas to provide a comfort bag for a child or young person. It includes a journal, mindfulness activities, books, colouring pens and pencils, a cuddle blanket with a holder for a photograph and ideas to make a memory box.
A donation of £50 would pay for the bereavement helpline to run for a day so St Barnabas can give urgent support to those struggling with their grief.
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Target
£3,000
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Raised so far
£3,165
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Number of donors
91
My Story
46 days, that’s the amount of time which Dad had from the day of his cancer diagnosis to the date he passed away in November 2024. Dad spent his final days at St. Barnabas Hospice in Lincoln, where he was provided with the best and most dignified care that we could have asked for.
Dad’s cancer diagnosis had come completely without warning and it very quickly consumed our lives, one devastating blow after another, in unbelievably close succession.
I am running the 2026 London Marathon, exactly 25 years on from when Dad ran it himself, to raise funds for St. Barnabas so that they can continue providing outstanding palliative care and to help more families like ours to cope with the unimaginable.
-------------------------------
If you’ve landed on this page it’s probably because you know me, my family or knew my amazing Dad, Paul. He was fit, fun to be around, kind towards others and the most caring Dad a girl could ask for. Dad was the one who got me into running when I was still at primary school. He ran the London Marathon twice (in 2000 and 2001) and it’s because of him that I continue to put myself through race torture on a fairly regular basis.
But if there’s anything which gives you an immediate perspective on life, it’s the shattering news that one of your loved ones has cancer. Unfortunately for us, that wasn’t the end of the nightmare. The cancer was so advanced that it couldn’t be treated and we found ourselves in the realms of palliative care, facing questions like ‘What does Dad want to do in the time he has left? Can he come home? How do we manage his pain?’
Dad’s personal goal was to see his 66th birthday (only eight months away) to get his state pension but we very sadly lost him in November 2024. The day he passed away was only 11 days after our son was born and the two of them never got to meet.
The support our family received from St. Barnabas was outstanding. The team acted quickly and were there for us at the worst time of our lives. I'm raising funds so that they can continue to be there for other families who find themselves, sometimes very suddenly, in a such a world of heartbreak and turmoil that it becomes hard to function, let alone process what is happening.
My maternity leave was a strange mix of beautiful happiness and unimaginable, indescribable loss. In the space of two weeks I had gained a son but lost a parent and it has been hard at times to find headspace to process the grief. Running is a great therapy for me and pacing it out on the pavement is sometimes just what I need.
A year on, life has a new routine and normality. We blow kisses to robins. We look for him in stars. We've done the year of 'firsts' - and they have been HARD. But I suppose the special dates will always be hard now. Yes, some time has passed. But the hole in our lives is still there as much as it ever was and it's so important for us to keep his memory alive, saying things he would have said, doing things he would have done.
Thank you SO MUCH for supporting me and St Barnabas Hospice, it means so much to me and my family. Now where did I leave my trainers...
-------------------------------
Any money you can donate will make a real difference to patients and families across Lincolnshire living with a life-limiting or terminal illness, ensuring St Barnabas can be there for them every day of the year.
Some examples of how funding may be used:
£20 enables St Barnabas to provide an hour of specialist at-home care to a patient living with a life-limiting or terminal illness.
£30 allows St Barnabas to provide a comfort bag for a child or young person. It includes a journal, mindfulness activities, books, colouring pens and pencils, a cuddle blanket with a holder for a photograph and ideas to make a memory box.
A donation of £50 would pay for the bereavement helpline to run for a day so St Barnabas can give urgent support to those struggling with their grief.
Steffi Marshall (Gray) is fundraising towards
