Foxy and his London Marathon experience

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Foxy London Marathon 2026 – 26th April 2026

Seven months of winter grafting. Dark mornings, cold nights, and the kind of dedication that only comes with purpose.
This wasn’t just a marathon.
This was for pancreatic cancer.

This was for my dad — Tony Fox.

It all started with a ballot entry. A hopeful shot in the dark. Then in September 2025, the phone call came — I’d been accepted. That moment lit the fire.
After my final eye operation in October, I laced up properly in November and didn’t stop. Week after week, mile after mile, right up until the final days before race day.
I arrived in London on the Friday with my family — my mum, my wife, my daughter, and my son. The people who mean everything. We collected my bib and shirt, and it all suddenly felt real.
Saturday was a light pre-marathon run. Calm before the storm.
Then Sunday.
I got to Blackheath at 7:30am. For a brief moment, I stood alone. I let it all in — the journey, the reason, the weight of it. I had a cry. I had a smile. I warmed up, not just physically, but emotionally.
Then came the crowds. Thousands upon thousands.
My start time: 10:01am.Blue Wave 7.
The countdown hit.
3… 2… 1…
And we were off.
I had predicted a finish between 3:45 and 4 hours, so we all set off at a similar pace — a strangely comforting rhythm among strangers. The first four miles were about settling in, finding that groove. But from the very start, the noise… it was unreal.
Then came Cutty Sark.
The volume lifted to another level entirely. It genuinely blew me away. For about a mile, it felt like the loudest place on earth — then it dipped back to the constant roar.
And through it all, one thing stood out.
“Andrew! Go on my son!”
Hearing my name again and again… it was electric. The smile on my face was unstoppable.
I had two points where I hoped to see my family — mile 9 and mile 24.
At mile 9, I drifted to the middle of the road, scanning faces, hoping. The noise was overwhelming — I didn’t think I’d find them.
Then suddenly—
“FOXY!”
My daughter’s voice cut through everything.
I turned, ran back, and there they were. I hugged my mum tightly, kissed my wife, and held my kids. It was overwhelming. Beautiful. Emotional. It took a moment to gather myself again — a few more tears, then back to it.
Then came Tower Bridge.
Wow.
People say it’s special — they’re right. It’s something else entirely. I even managed to get a photo, arms raised, soaking it all in.
The next stretch felt smooth. Strong pacing, steady rhythm.
Then around mile 17 — a niggle. Left calf, just behind the knee. Not quite cramp, but close enough to worry.
I pushed through a couple more miles, but it tightened. I pulled over, stretched, and a kind lady asked if I had cramp.
“Not yet,” I said.
“Good,” she replied, handing me a salt tablet.
Within a mile, it eased. Crisis avoided. And just like that, I was back, able to enjoy every step again.
Down onto the Embankment, the noise built and built. I knew I was close now. My smile somehow got even bigger.
Then I saw Buckingham Palace.
I turned right… and saw the sign: 365 yards to go.
And strangely… my heart sank.
I didn’t want it to end.
I moved to the left where there was a bit more space, made a heart shape with my hands, and thanked the crowd. A moment I’ll never forget.
Then the finish.
I held up a small banner: “I ran this for my dad.”
I crossed the line with emotions sky high. Medal around my neck. Heart completely full.
This was, without question, the greatest running experience of my life.
Thank you to everyone who supported me, cheered me on, and donated to pancreatic cancer. Your generosity means everything. Donations are still coming in, and I’ll share the final total at the end of the month.
My mum is proud. My family is proud.
And for the first time, I can truly say—
I’m proud of myself.
Because I achieved something I never thought I could do…But always dreamed I would.


Andrew Fox

PGA Golf Professional

Stover Golf Club

077792 646655

016260 352460 Ex 1