A year to remember: how 12 challenges raising money to support people with brain aneurysms changed everything

Guest Blog by by Luke Shotter, HBA Support Fundraising Champion

If you read my last blog, you'll know why I spent the last 12 months doing something slightly ridiculous. For anyone coming to this fresh, here's a little bit of detail about me. I’ve always been lucky enough to have a family that is incredibly close-knit. But in June 2024, my dad, Steve - 61, a painter and decorator, a lifelong West Ham season ticket holder, and a man who filled every room he walked into - collapsed without warning while on holiday with my mum in Brixham, Devon.

He was air-lifted to hospital in Plymouth, where the neurosurgery team and every single nurse and doctor who looked after him were absolutely incredible. They did everything they possibly could, and as a family, we can’t thank the medical staff and the air ambulance team enough for the care they gave him over those ten days. But despite their best efforts, he passed away. A sudden brain aneurysm. No warning. Nothing.

After dad died, I searched for anything that would help our family understand what had happened. That search led me to HBA Support, the UK's only dedicated brain aneurysm charity. They were the first resource that actually helped us make sense of it, and speaking to Rebecca became a lifeline for me. So I decided to fundraise for them - and I decided to do it properly. Twelve challenges in twelve months.

How it started - dry January

Six months after losing Dad, I'd fallen into the habit of having a drink through the week. Nothing dramatic - just the low-level comfort you reach for when things are really hard. Dry January forced a reset. I used the month to start rebuilding my fitness in the background too. Not the most riveting content for social media, but it was the right foundation, and with the support of my sisters and brothers who also joined in, it helped me to kick off the year on the right foot.

February: 28 Days in the Cold Water

A very different challenge this month. I have a cold water tub in my garden, and I committed to getting into it every single day of February - when the water was sitting naturally at around 4 or 5 degrees. No ice needed. No ice wanted!

The videos started going up online, and suddenly people were paying attention. HBA very kindly sent me a flag to hang behind the tub. My brothers, niece and cousins started getting involved. One of the highlights was the day my brother and I walked into the sea in Brighton - in February, in the wind - the morning after of my cousin's 40th birthday party. On the last day of the month I bought 10 bags of ice and got in the lot of it.

I expected it to be really tough, but something unexpected was happening too. My lower back and hip flexor problem - which had been getting me down for months - started to ease. I began to run again, pain-free, for the first time in what felt like forever. If you've ever been sceptical about cold water therapy, I was with you. I'm not anymore!

March and April: Steps and Sweat

March was 10,000 steps a day, which sounds simple until you're a desk worker who sometimes only clocks up 2,000 steps before getting home. April was 30 minutes of exercise every single day - gym, running, football, whatever counted. I feel like these are the months where more people started to get involved, my wife joined in for both months, my brothers and sister were taking part every day, my cousin Dale and his family were getting involved, and my friend Kate joined in for April for the 30 day April workout challenge. 

These months weren't glamorous. I once jumped onto a gym box positioned directly under a ceiling light and whacked my head clean into it, which I naturally posted immediately - because by this point I'd worked out that people respond to the unpolished moments just as much as the impressive ones. The accountability of putting things online was something I hadn't expected. Once people are following and donating, there's no backing out.

May: Walking Home for Dad

Month five was the one that changed everything. My mum, my brother, and I walked from Plymouth - where Dad had been in hospital - all the way back to Brixham, the place he and Mum loved more than anywhere in the world. Seventy-two miles. Four days. The South West Coast Path.

We walked through tidal crossings we nearly missed (we made one with five minutes to spare before the sea swallowed the path behind us). We got lost in misty cliff-top fields. We climbed a steep hill in the dark to what we thought was a pub and turned out to be a clifftop spa that wasn't particularly thrilled to see three mud-covered walkers at its door. We camped wild the first night with no idea where we'd sleep. Then we found a campsite called Steve's - my mum declared it was a sign, and I wasn't about to argue.

The last night was the best. We arrived at Blackpool Sands, spoke to the owner about what we were doing, and he told us we could sleep on the beach. He'd leave the toilets unlocked and let the security guard know we were there. We sat and had a couple of drinks, listened to live music until everyone cleared out, pitched up on the sand, and just... sat with it for a bit.

We arrived in Brixham on the 31st. The next day was the anniversary of Dad's death. We scattered his ashes on the coast - the place he loved most. We'd started in Plymouth where he'd been in hospital and finished where it all began. It made sense in a way that's hard to put into words, so I won't try.

June: Ben Nevis on the Longest Day

Three weeks later, we were climbing Ben Nevis. We chose 21st June deliberately - the longest day of the year - and set off at half 5 in the morning with sunrise already well underway. There was a group of 9 of us including my Mum, brothers, wife and friends. My Sister who had worked so hard in the March and April challenges unfortunately was not fit enough to take part so did her own 10 mile route at the base of the mountain having to still come to offer support. 

Carl, Harry and Lee rattled up in around 3 hours. Laura, Lucy and I took just over 4, with my Mum and Jack not far behind. We all made it to the summit and celebrated with a cheeky little drink that we took with us. Once we spent some time on the summit, and had the obligatory photos we started to make our descent down where my sister met us at bottom. Another incredible challenge ticked off. 

July: 300 Miles of Cycling

Three hundred miles across the month - road miles and gym bike miles combined. My brother Carl although picking up a slight injury managed to clock up the milage, and my cousin Dale, a school teacher, happened to be cycling John O'Groats to Land's End with his school at the same time we were on Ben Nevis. He literally cycled past Ben Nevis while we were on it, and finished in early July. I told him that counted.

I'll be honest - cycling wasn't for me. Running and walking, you're talking, checking on each other, having a laugh. Solo cycling through Essex is lonely, and it turns out it's considerably harder on the body than it was when I was 12. In saying that me and my brother in Law Craig did have brilliant cycle one Saturday from Colchester through to Walton which ticked off around 26 miles, the rest of the month was all about getting it done, keeping the HBA hashtag going and moving on.

August: Hadrian's Wall - The Birthday Special

I had a bright idea one evening: do Hadrian's Wall over the August bank holiday weekend and try to finish it in two days. Carl immediately said yes, and Dale volunteered to join as well. I then had to live with what I'd started.

Bowness-on-Solway to Wallsend - roughly 84 miles. We started at 8am on the Friday. Walked through the day, through the evening, through the night, and hit the highest point on the Wall at sunrise. By 8am Saturday morning - my birthday - we'd done 50 miles. We kept going until the afternoon, when our feet gave up. (Top tip: don't stop for breakfast when you've been walking all night. Your body stiffens up and you pay for it on the restart.) 

Carl tapped out at just over 60 miles. Not a failure - not remotely. Dale (who really pushed me through the final part) and I finished the last stretch Sunday afternoon, crossing the line at half past one. We'd left at 8am Friday.

September: Tough Mudder and a Quiz Night

September had two very different challenges. First, a 15K Tough Mudder in West Sussex- the longest distance on offer - with my brother Jack and cousins Dale and Chris. Then a charity quiz night at our local church hall that brought in 100 people, raised £1,700 on the night, and - thanks to my friend Jess (who helped me set up the quiz) at BNY Mellon whose employer matched the donations - netted around £3,200 for HBA after fees.

Watching people leave that hall knowing what a brain aneurysm actually is, knowing HBA exists - that mattered as much as the money. Awareness is everything with this condition.

October: Cardiff Half Marathon (as Crash Bandicoot)

I used to laugh at people who do races in fancy dress. I then ran the Cardiff Half Marathon dressed as Crash Bandicoot, wearing the HBA vest over the costume, with near-zero peripheral vision and a wooden mask clutched in one hand. Thankfully my friend Lucy ran the race with me and was eyes for the day. 

A local reporter ran alongside me mid-race and did a live interview. Strangers left the crowd to run next to me and ask about the charity. My hip - so bad the day before I could barely walk - held completely. One of my favourite days of the year.

November: HYROX, Dublin

HYROX is an endurance event: 8km of running broken up by eight workout stations - ski erg, rowing machine, weighted sled push and pull, burpee broad jumps, sandbag lunges, farmer carry with 24 kilos per side, and 100 wall balls to finish. I flew to Dublin Tuesday evening, competed Wednesday morning, flew home Wednesday afternoon.

I'd genuinely wondered in the weeks before whether I'd taken on too much. I trained hard, leaned on my chiropractor who'd kept my hip going all year, and finished it. He was in the same event, starting an hour after me - so I had one familiar face across a room of strangers, which helped more than I expected. The HBA vest went on. People asked about it. Same as every other month.

December: Running Home

The final challenge was always going to end at the London Stadium. Which meant there was only one way to arrive: running. I Google-mapped the route from my house in Wickford. It came back as 26.2 miles exactly. A marathon, in a Santa suit.

Earlier in the year I'd emailed Baroness Karen Brady. A couple of months later her PA came back: she'd read the email, she was sorry about my dad, and she wanted West Ham to help however they could. What the club put together on the day went far beyond what I'd hoped for.

14th December. My three brothers ran sections with me - one doing a mile, one doing just under 13 miles and one doing 16. My cousin and PT ran the whole way. A friend from work joined at the halfway point. And at the London Stadium, West Ham had built a finish line. Paul Konchesky an ex-player was waiting at the end, he presented me with a shirt with "Shotter 26.2" on the back, and another one signed by the squad. They took us onto the pitch, HBA flag and all. The interview and video went out across their social channels - to over 4 million followers. And they gave us four tickets to the game.

Rebecca and Sarah from HBA were at the finish line. My wife Laura had come down ill the day before and was gutted not to make it - but she'd been behind every single step of this year, and I want to say that here.

West Ham lost the match. But I'm fairly sure Dad was watching. Too much of this year fell into place for any other explanation.

Looking Back

Over £9,000 raised for HBA Support. Twelve months of challenges. A family that came together around something painful and turned it into something we're all proud of.

What I didn't expect when I started was how many people would buy in. My brothers, sister, cousins, friends - all of them got involved. People at work were getting updates in company meetings. My gym was sharing our posts. The community that grew around the hashtag kept me accountable on the days I didn't want to get out of bed, and there were plenty of those.

I'm not done. I'm training for the London Marathon - running this time for St Luke's Hospice in memory of a close friend we lost at the start of last year. My friend Kate is running it with me; we've been running together for 17 years and always said we'd do London together one day. The time felt right.

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