How Rajinder Singh “Skipping Sikh” MBE is Inspiring a New Generation to Move
For my father, Rajinder Singh MBE, known to many as the Skipping Sikh, running is far more than exercise. It is prayer in motion. It is discipline, gratitude, resilience, and faith lived out one step at a time.
My father was given the name Skipping Sikh during lockdown, when his daily skipping challenge inspired millions of people around the world to get moving, stay positive, and care for their physical and mental wellbeing during one of the hardest periods many of us have ever lived through. But long before the world knew him for skipping, my father had a dream: to run the London Marathon.
As an immigrant coming to the UK, he built a life through hard work, determination, and unwavering faith in Waheguru. Running became part of that journey. For years he entered the London Marathon ballot, hoping for a place, but was unsuccessful time and again. Many people would have given up. My father did not. In his 70s, he finally secured a place through a charity and fulfilled a dream he had carried for years.
Since then, he has completed five London Marathons and one marathon in Richmond. This year, at 78 years old, he is taking on the Richmond Marathon once again through RunFest, marking his second marathon in one year after already completing the London Marathon in April.
What makes his story even more remarkable is that my father has never followed a formal marathon training plan. He does not spend months clocking up long runs in the conventional way. Instead, he stays true to the rhythm of life he has always lived: he skips, walks, runs, cycles, eats simply, and prays deeply. His fitness is rooted not in performance, but in consistency, discipline, and spirituality.
My father is Amritdhari, and Sikhism is the foundation of everything he does. His faith shapes how he lives, how he serves, and how he moves through the world. He often says that running keeps him both physically and mentally fit, but for him it is also something more profound. It is a form of meditation. As he puts one foot in front of the other, he remembers Waheguru. In the rhythm of the run, he finds stillness. In endurance, he finds strength. In movement, he finds connection to the Divine.
This year’s London Marathon was especially emotional for our family because we did it together. My mother, who is 75 and in remission from myeloma, completed the marathon in an incredible 10 hours. My father completed it in 7.5 hours on a hot and crowded day, with nearly 60,000 runners taking part. Watching both of my parents cross that finish line was one of the proudest moments of my life. They are role models.
I am deeply proud of them both. They are the reason I run. They showed me that movement is a gift, that health should never be taken for granted, and that it is never too late to begin. As a family, we exercise together, encourage one another, and celebrate what our bodies can do. This year, while my father takes on the full Richmond Marathon, I will be running the half marathon on the same day as I’m simply not as strong as him!
But my father’s mission has never only been about his own achievements. Through his work in schools, he has spent years encouraging young people to skip, be active, and believe in themselves. Now, he wants to do the same with running especially within the Sikh and South Asian communities.
At local races, my father is often the only Sikh man wearing a dastar (turban). That reality says a great deal. According to Sport England, South Asians remain among the least active communities in the UK. My father wants to challenge that. He wants young Sikhs to see that sport belongs to them too that a dastar is not a barrier to movement, and that our community deserves to be visible in spaces of health, fitness, and endurance.
He believes passionately that we need to do more as a community to promote exercise, wellbeing, and healthy eating, not just for physical health, but for mental, emotional, and spiritual strength too. He often says that movement is medicine that walking, running, and staying active can help us live healthier, longer, and more joyful lives. He chooses to walk or cycle whenever he can rather than take the car or bus, because movement is not something he schedules into life; it is simply how he lives.
At 78 years old, my father is proof that age is not a limitation. He shows us that we do not have to surrender our dreams because of time, nor shrink our ambitions because something feels difficult. He teaches us that life is to be lived fully, courageously, and gratefully. He reminds us that faith is not passive it is active. It is shown in how we care for the body we have been given, how we persevere through hardship, and how we keep going when the road is long.
My father has always been inspired by Fauja Singh, whose legacy opened the door for so many to imagine what is possible. In his own way, my father is continuing that legacy running not for medals or recognition, but to inspire others, to represent the Sikh faith with pride, and to show that movement can transform lives.
For him, running is not just about the miles. It is about the mind, the body, and the soul. It is therapeutic. It is healing. It is a reminder that with faith in Waheguru, discipline in daily life, and gratitude for every breath, we are capable of far more than we think.
As his daughter, I share his story with immense pride and love. I hope it inspires more people especially within our own community to lace up their trainers, take that first step, and believe that it is never too late to begin.
The Richmond Marathon takes place on Sunday 13th September, and people can still sign up and be part of what promises to be an incredible day of community, courage, and inspiration.
My father’s journey is a reminder to all of us:
keep moving, keep believing, keep serving, and keep remembering Waheguru every step of the way.
