I have just returned from a 10k run. Nothing particularly special about this statement, except that this 10k run involved 20 laps of Russell Square in London, chosen for its proximity to Great Ormond Street hospital.

My youngest daughter, Daisy, is currently an inpatient in the hospital, recovering from a mammoth eight-hour surgery on her bladder and abdomen – not the first time she has been through this ordeal. In fact, much of our life over the past 10 years since Daisy was born has revolved around surgeries, appointments and inpatient stays at this hospital.

She was born with a very rare genetic condition called Costello Syndrome, and her premature arrival and ongoing care needs put paid to my successful marketing career and introduced me to a world of hospitals, caring and disability.

Up to the birth of my first child I had been a regular runner, in fact I found out I was pregnant with my eldest child on the day of the Basingstoke half marathon. But four children later, and the added pressures of being a full-time carer, all thoughts of running had been pushed to the back of my mind.

The big turning point that triggered my return to running was a comment by a physio I had been seeing for ongoing back pain. She reminded me that as a carer of a wheelchair-dependent little girl with a range of complex needs I needed the strength and stamina of a manual labourer. A chance photo my husband took of me only confirmed this, as I realised that I was far from being in peak physical condition and taking too much solace in a diet of red wine and kettle chips in order to manage the stress of our lives.

And so I returned to running. I chose a particularly cold and windy day to embark on my first 5k run for several years, my rationale being that if I could run on a day like that, then I could run any day. Soon 5k grew to 10k, I re-joined my old running club and began to run cross-country, trail runs, half marathons and then marathons.

Running became not just a way to get fit but it gave me some much-needed time to myself, away from the hospital appointments and stress of caring for a life-limited, very sick child. It also gave me space to be me and not just Daisy’s mum. My husband, Andy, held the fort back home, managing Daisy’s care around his job so I could get out to club training sessions, spend hours on Sunday-morning long runs along the Thames towpath or travelling to races further afield to add to my burgeoning medal/freebie T-shirt/mug collection.

I even completed my first ultra marathon in October last year. Then my world, already chaotic and unpredictable with Daisy’s needs, came crashing down. Not long after that ultra, Andy became very ill and within a few weeks he was diagnosed with advanced, incurable bowel cancer.

I needed to run more than ever to cope with the stress but the opportunities I had to do so were further compressed, as Andy was too unwell to look after Daisy and the other children. In addition, I had to factor in his care and many hospital appointments to an already packed schedule.

Further ultra plans were shelved and I had to become very creative to try to keep running with what little time was left for me. Running has absolutely become my Prozac; I have to have my dose of exercise endorphins in order to keep a positive outlook and cope with the emotional impact both of Andy’s diagnosis and Daisy’s deteriorating health.

When the alarm rings at 6am, I leap out of bed in order to meet with a small band of fellow club runners, we have called ourselves the Dawn Raiders, to run a speed session or hill session twice a week. In addition, I try to fit in at least one other run, sometimes, as in today’s run, it has to be laps of a local park so that I can get back home quickly if I am needed. Often, I will run home from the hospital – if Andy or Daisy are inpatients – in order to fit in the mileage.

The one major change I have made is to ditch my Garmin. I no longer feel the need to check my pace or distance, PB chasing is a distant memory, now I am content to be in the moment and run free.

I cannot afford to waste an opportunity to run, to unwind, to breathe in the fresh air and give myself time out. I yearn for the trails and open spaces but now it’s just about getting out and clearing my head, so if it means 20 laps of Russell Square then that’s what I’ll do.

I hope that one day I can get back to training for another ultra, I’m determined to remain half-marathon fit in the meantime and whenever people ask me how I cope with the demands life has thrown at me, I just invite them to join me and the Dawn Raiders for an early-morning hill session at the local park!

• Stephanie Nimmo blogs at wasthisintheplan.com