I ran Brighton Marathon to honour baby daughter we lost – and am so glad I did

Standing on the start line, shivering in a cold wind with 26.2 miles ahead of me, I did start to wonder if this was such a good idea.

The 2023 Brighton Marathon had finally arrived, the culmination of thousands of runners’ hard work and training through the bleak winter months.

Only a few weeks previously, it had appeared that the event would not go ahead at all due to the financial struggles of the former organisers, Grounded Events, but London Marathon Events provided a lifeline when they stepped in and took over. And despite my concerns at the start line, I’m thrilled that they did.

58 pictures from Brighton Marathon Weekend.

The cold start was forgotten, and the first real spring day of the year reflected the atmosphere in the city as supporters lined the streets to cheer on friends, family and strangers alike.

This was my first marathon and while I continually told myself to relax and enjoy it, I couldn’t escape the feeling of anxiety about how my body would cope with the latter miles. My training had seen me get to 16 miles, the last few of which were not run comfortably.

The first ten miles went by reasonably smoothly, snaking round Preston Park and into the centre of the city where the majority of the crowds were. There were ample opportunities to see family and friends’ as you worked your way around the Pavilion and Grand Parade.

Next came the long trek out to Rottingdean via Ovingdean. The route out of the city saw crowd numbers fall and the mental battles begin. While I am sure Ovingdean is a lovely place, it was somewhat soul-destroying to realise we were being diverted towards it just as it looked like the turn at Rottingdean was in reach.

However, Ovingdean greeted us with a fantastic choir, in full swing on the roadside, blowing away the dismay. Bands and choirs were littered around the course, all giving up their time to raise spirits and entertain the crowds. Their impact was immense and very welcome at those harder points in the course.

Having finally turned back to the city, a river of runners snaking along the road for miles back to Brighton played out in front of me, the city itself sparkling in the spring sunshine. While the view was incredible it could not completely distract me from the growing ache in my hips and back.

Back among the crowds, just past the West Pier at mile 17, I had started to convince myself that there wasn’t long left to go and that I could complete this in a good time. Alas, then began the longest eight miles I have ever run (well, walked mainly).

The hard yards came in New Church Road and down to Portslade. Each mile seemed longer than the next as the walking began and muscles seized up. The last eight miles seemed to take me as long as the first 18.

I can’t imagine having to do it in costume, and special mentions have to go the man running with a washing machine on his back. Regular favourites like the costumed Rockinghorse for the charity of the same name were heart-warming to see along the course.

Every runner had their own motivations, some did it for charities with causes close to their heart, while others did it for the personal challenge. It was humbling to run with them all.

All the way around, the spectators cheered the runners on, calling out names and encouraging us to keep pushing till the end. Except, they weren’t calling my name at all.

Everyone called out the name written on my top – Brie, my daughter’s name.

Almost a year earlier, my wife and I had to make the most difficult and heart-rening decision we have ever made. From the 12-week stage of pregnancy doctors told us that our daughter had a number of serious issues that made the likelihood of her surviving through the pregnancy to birth almost impossible. Brie was born on April 8, 2022 after 22 weeks and lived for a short while before passing.

I was running in her honour for the fantastic charity Sands.

As such, it was only right that it was her name on everyone’s lips. For every “Go Brie” and “You can do it Brie”, I echoed the messages to her internally. For tens, maybe hundreds, of people to call her name out throughout the day was cathartic. She did exist and she does matter.

The euphoria of the finish line brought this all home to me. I had imagined the moment would be an emotional one and while it was, my biggest feeling was of joy and pride. The joy of finishing and the pride at having done it for Brie.

For me the day highlighted the power of sport, how it can bring people together, complete strangers sharing moments of unity. Whether that be runners helping each other or locking eyes with members of the crowd as they urge you on.

Brighton as a city would be poorer without the marathon.

As for next year, I think I have some acts of kindness to repay so I will be there to support the runners in their personal battles, I would recommend it to anyone.