I didn’t have the best start to March.

For starters, I was ill. While I was supposed to be enjoying a weekend in Lake Garda, I succumbed to a bad dose of the ‘flu, forcing me to stay in bed.

At one point, I was so weak, I could barely shuffle to the bathroom. With aching joints and muscles, and a fever lasting five days, the idea of putting one foot in front of the other for 60km started to seem impossible.

“Don’t doubt yourself,” emailed my friend, R, when I told him about my plight.

“This challenge means so much to you that you’re going to have no problems finishing it.”

I knew he was right. So last Sunday, as soon as I was slightly better, I took my first tentative steps around the block. It felt like I’d run a marathon, even though I’d covered little more 500 metres.

From there, it’s been a gradual build-up of my fitness. This week, I’ve managed a couple of sessions in the gym, along with a 5k walk around town on Monday, 7k in a torrential downpour on Tuesday, 15k on Wednesday, 20k on Thursday, and another 15k today.

But, needless to say, a couple of people who have been following my progress have been quick to put me down.

“I don’t know why you’re bothering,” one of my students said.

“You may think you’re doing well now but you won’t be able to start and stop when you want. You need to seriously think about going ahead with this.”

Another helpfully suggested a reality check, not only concerning The Big Em and M Challenge but also my nieces and nephew.

“They won’t remember you, you know. They were too young when your brother had the nerve to kill himself and you haven’t seen them in so long they will have forgotten you. You probably won’t ever see them again.”

I’m normally pretty good at keeping my emotions in check and have learnt to zone out when people feel they can discuss the ins and outs of Matt’s suicide in front of me but that was the moment I snapped.

That’s because I do not believe for one second that the children have forgotten me, my younger brother or our parents. The contact may only be one way for now but that’s down to circumstances beyond our control.

The insensitive remarks I’d been subjected to this past fortnight have only served to make me even more determined to cross that finish line late at night on May 11 and to pull in as much cash as possible for Winston’s Wish, the UK’s largest childhood bereavement charity.

As the negative commentators have proved, so much still has to be done to break the taboo of suicide and the mystery behind people ending their lives.

One person kills themselves every 80 minutes in the UK, and Winston’s Wish believes that 55,000 family members are “profoundly” affected by suicide every year.

And, in terms of the work Winston’s Wish does, it’s also worth remembering that every 22 minutes a child in Britain is bereaved of a parent.

So, as I told the student who suggested I stop walking, stop raising money and awareness for Winston’s Wish and, effectively, stop hoping I’ll see my nieces and nephew one day, the answer is a big, fat no.

I am going to walk 60km and I’m going to do it with a smile on my face, even if the rain lashes down – which I suspect it probably will. And, more importantly, I am going to raise £2,000 for Winston’s Wish because who is anyone to stop me?

Please sponsor me at www.virginmoneygiving/emma_bird