Mike Tindall showed off his sporting skills as he took part in a charity run with his five-year-old daughter Lena today.

The former England rugby union international, 45, looked in good spirits as he jogged with his excited youngster during the Rugby for Heroes event at Old Richians RFC in Gloucester.

Mike, who is married to the King's niece Zara Tindall, 42, wore a bright red top that matched his daughter's, while both had papers with their race numbers pinned to their T-shirts during the run.

Lena seemed to enjoy the outing with her dad, with the duo raising their arms in celebration at one point.

Another photo showed the pair sharing a hug, while both appeared to have received medals for their efforts. It is unclear whether Mike and Zara's other two children, Mia, 10, and Lucas, two, were also at the event.

It was a day full of different emotions for Lena, who at one point made a face as if she had had enough, while another photo from the event showed her happily running.

Rugby for Heroes “provides financial and personal support to military personnel to help them make the transition from military service to civilian life,” according to its website. It uses rugby as a tool to help with this [process]'.

Mike, patron of the charity, was one of the special guests attending today's outing, with all money raised going to the organisation.

That of charity website explained: 'Don't worry if you're not a runner, the courses are adapted to all fitness levels so you can walk or run and you can take part with friends, take the kids, catch up with family whilst you walk or even take the dog. Anyone who wants to participate can walk or run in the 3 km, 5 km or 10 km.'

Meanwhile, Mike's wife Zara, who lives with her family on Princess Anne's Gatecombe Estate in Gloucestershire, enjoyed a solo day out on Cheltenham's Festival Trials Day yesterday.

The king's niece was without her husband Mike and three children in the Gloucestershire city, which is known for its racecourse of the same name.

She dressed warmly in a long, dark red coat, which she combined with matching leather-look boots and gloves.

The mother of three completed her ensemble with a black turtleneck and a chic navy blue fedora, accented with a decorative sash.

Cheltenham's Festival Trials Day is described as 'the last chance to see the sport's leading lights go to battle on the hallowed grounds of Cheltenham Racecourse before the Cheltenham Festival', which takes place in March.

The website says: 'With an eight-race card, with each race being a trial for a race at the Cheltenham Festival, it doesn't get much more exciting unless it's the festival itself.

'The excitement isn't limited to the track, with fantastic entertainment throughout the day and The Wickermen performing live music after the race, it's a seamless build-up to the Cheltenham Festival.'

It comes after Mike Tindall shared more behind-the-scenes photos from the London premiere for the Six Nations: Full Contact Netflix series.

The event, which marked the launch of the sports documentary, was attended by former England rugby player Mike, 45, who is likely to take a special interest in tonight's event.

He was accompanied by his wife Zara, with the couple – who wore matching blazers – sharing loved-up snaps on Instagram.

Now Mike has shared more information about the event, in a snap with sports presenters Natalie Pinkham and Anna Woolhouse.

He also posted a photo on Instagram of himself with his wife Zara and rugby player Danny Care.

Alongside the photo, Mike wrote: 'Great to catch up with some old friends last night at the launch of @sixnationsrugby's Netflix series #SixNationsFullContact.

“I was blown away by what I saw in Episode 1 and it was an incredible watch. Out next week and I can't wait.'

The series of photos followed previous photos shared by the couple.

Mike and Zara, who wore matching blazers for the event, shared loved-up photos from the red carpet on Instagram of them looking into each other's eyes.

Zara was typically chic in a checked navy blue coat, paired with a satin blue shirt and black velvet cropped trousers. Meanwhile, Mike looked equally dapper in a blue double-breasted jacket.

The loved-up couple couldn't keep their eyes off each other and weren't afraid to show it, with their giant smiles emphasizing their cheerful mood.

The couple appeared in good spirits to watch the new series, which follows the teams who competed against each other in the 2023 Six Nations tournament, and the trials and challenges they faced behind the scenes.

Zara Tindall started the year in style as she arrived at Cheltenham Racecourse on New Year’s Day in a chic ensemble.

The King’s niece, 42, joined her youngest daughter Lena, five, in the paddock at Cheltenham Races – and the little boy seemed keen to get her mum’s attention.

Mother-of-three Zara showed off her style chops, donning a plaid belted coat with mahogany fur trim as she attended the races with her daughters Lena and Mia, and nieces Savannah and Isla Phillips.

She paired the ensemble with a chocolate-colored fascinator with a statement gold bow and complemented the look with a quilted black leather bag and classic leather knee-high boots.

Meanwhile, little Lena, who took her mother’s hand tightly and pointed out something that had caught her attention, looked adorable in a burgundy coat.

The Cheltenham Races traditionally fall on New Year’s Day, with families flocking to the area every year to watch the racing action.

While Lena and Zara were spotted in the paddock, Zara’s eldest daughter Mia was spotted on the balcony with her cousins ​​Isla and Savannah Phillips, where the trio appeared enthralled by the events on the track.

Mia, nine, appears to take after her parents, Mike and Zara, who are also horse racing fans, as she focused hard on the races.

Savannah, who celebrated her 13th birthday last Friday, beamed as she and her sister lounged on the balcony to watch the race.

Mia’s face, on the other hand, was the picture of concentration as she held a glass of water and focused on the track.

The royal cousins’ outing comes after the family spent Christmas at Sandringham and visited St Mary Magdalene Church for the annual service, which focused on Mia.

The nine-year-old royal walked ahead of her parents as she joined Prince George, Princess Charlotte and Prince Louis at the front of the procession.

Mia shared a sweet moment with her young cousin, Prince Louis, as she held his hand and led him to church.

Mia’s sister Lena, five, walked hand in hand behind Wales, along with her parents Zara and Mike. Her younger brother Lucas, two, stayed home.

Princess Charlotte, holding hands with her mother, looked festive in a bottle green coat with her hair tied in braids.

Meanwhile, George, who was walking alone, looked very grown up in a smart suit.

When the Christmas morning service ended, Mia walked out of the church flanked by Princess Charlotte, and the couple giggled together as they walked with their families.

Mia’s interest in horse racing comes from her parents, Zara and Mike Tindall, who are big racing fans.

Being an equestrian herself, Zara is often pictured at racing events with her husband Mike throughout the year – in addition to appearing at Royal Ascot with the rest of the family.

She and her ex-rugby husband are known to put on cute and cheeky displays as they get animated as the races start.

Sitting on the train, I began to tap out a letter for someone I may never meet. I told them about myself — that I am headstrong and adventurous, quick to anger if I feel something is unfair, but reflective, too, when faced with a problem to solve.

I also wrote that if they ever feel lost or lonely, they must remember they were carefully brought into the world; that they are the result of so much planning and love by their family.

Finally, I told them that I care about them, even if I don’t know them.

Then I shocked myself by beginning to cry. That’s the thing about donating your eggs to a total stranger — emotions can catch you unawares.

I was 25 when I began the donation process and was on my way home from the fertility clinic where they had asked me to compose a message for any biological children of mine who might be created. It was daunting to think this might be the only contact we ever had.

Currently, by law, all egg donors must remain anonymous to their recipients. Only when they reach the age of 18 do donor-conceived children have a legal right to discover the identity of the donor.

However, fertility regulation chiefs said this week that sperm and egg donors should lose their right to anonymity from the moment a child is born.

I think that’s fair, because it should be down to the child as and when — or if — they make contact. I have worried about a biological child of mine growing up feeling at odds with their family due to not understanding their heritage.

It is certainly a complex issue, and I understand why egg donation remains controversial. Why do any of this when there are children who need to be adopted? 

And aside from the discomfort of all the hormone treatment required, having biological children out in the world that you may never meet is an uncomfortable prospect for some.

Indeed, in 2018 the Human Fertilisation and Embryology Authority (HFEA) informed me that a son had been born as a result of my donation the year before. 

He is now five, and I must admit I do sometimes think about what he’s like. How does he find school? Does he love his food like I do? Is he adventurous like me, too?

Not that these thoughts deterred me from donating twice more earlier this year.

In total, I have donated 20 eggs. Now aged 30, the physical toll was greater than in my mid-20s, but it was no less fulfilling to give a stranger such a gift.

Many may question why on earth I put myself through all this. It’s certainly not for the money. Unlike in America, where first-time donors can receive up to $10,000 (around £8,000) for their eggs, in the UK you are given £750 to cover travel expenses to and from the clinic.

And it’s not that I don’t want children of my own; I’ve always thought I would be a mother. I often think about what books I’d like to read with a child, or how I would explain an idea to them. I even listen to a parenting podcast as I walk my dog.

The reality is, though, it’s not going to happen any time soon. I haven’t been in a serious relationship since university, and even if I met someone tomorrow, there are so many hurdles to cross — financial, career-related and general life reasons — that would make having children difficult for the foreseeable future.

Growing up in London, my parents worked so hard to start my dad’s accountancy firm, my mum giving up being a pianist to ensure my younger brother and I had a good education, health and happiness. 

As a freelance news journalist, I wouldn’t be capable of providing for my own children like that at this point.

Another question people ask is whether donating my eggs diminishes my own chances of conceiving. But doctors have assured me it will not impact my own fertility.

I first heard about egg donation when I was 19 and studying English literature at the University of California, Los Angeles.

I sat in on a lecture about egg and sperm donation and the professor told us donation centres were looking for young, healthy, university-educated women from ethnic minority backgrounds. She added that people really wanted tall donors, too.

At 5 ft 10 in and with Chinese heritage, it was like she was talking directly to me.

There are no specific religious doctrines or cultural values that would explain why Chinese people are reluctant to donate; I thought donating could give me a small part to play in rectifying this.

I enquired at a clinic, but they told me they didn’t accept women who’d lived in the UK in the late 1990s due to the BSE crisis affecting British beef. Seeing as I’d grown up in London, I had to put the idea to one side.

It was when I returned to London in 2015 to do a Master’s degree at the London School of Economics that I looked into it again.

I had read that the quality of a woman’s eggs degrades every single month and had started to worry about my biological clock ticking — on behalf of others, rather than myself.

I was living at home with my family while looking for a job and realised now was the perfect time to do it.

I found a London-based clinic online, had the necessary blood tests and filled out endless forms about my familial health. There were lots of meetings with different doctors and nurses, who all checked if I was resilient enough to go through with it.

They impressed upon me that if I wanted to quit the process at any time, I could do so. It struck me that only astronauts get more rigorous health checks.

In one of the forms, I had to explain why I wanted to donate my eggs. I have always been one to follow my instincts without worrying too much about the consequences. But here I was being asked to stop and think.

It struck me I had never made a bigger decision, one that would change the lives of other people — total strangers at that. Sitting in the waiting room, fiddling with my pen, I pondered how to answer this.

I thought about how there are so many people who would make good parents — but for a viable egg. I have gay friends who have nearly written off having a family for this reason. I considered the impact an egg donor would have on their lives. Eventually, I wrote: ‘I want to help complete families.’

The clinic explained that due to anonymity rules, the families would see only my height, weight, eye colour, medical history and education level. I was also able to give a little detail about my hobbies — painting and going to the gym.

It felt a bit like filling out a dating profile, but instead of the witty bio I wrote my goodwill letter to the parents and potential offspring.

Once all the checks had been done, I started the daily hormone injections to stimulate my ovaries into producing as many eggs as possible for collection. During this two-week period, I would undergo regular scans to monitor the egg sacs.

The injections made my abdomen bruised and sore. I also gained weight and felt bloated and moody. 

I remember struggling to pull a jumper on in my bedroom and shouting with frustration; on another occasion I burst into tears watching a video of a cute puppy.

One night, on a date, I fumbled with the needles in a dimly-lit bathroom of a posh restaurant.

The doctors recommend you drink less alcohol during this time and to limit hard exercise. It’s better to not have sex, too, because the risk of pregnancy would be too great, even with contraception.

Even though we were living together, I hadn’t originally intended to tell my parents, as I didn’t want them to put me off. My mum has always believed in organ donation, but with eggs it’s more complex. 

I was confident I wouldn’t think of the hypothetical offspring as mine, but would mum think of him or her as her grandchild?

However, she was quick to enquire about my weight gain, asking whether I was stressed about something. So I briskly told her what I was up to, explaining how far along in the process I was. 

The first thing she said was: ‘Don’t tell your dad,’ because he is very risk-averse. Even now we don’t talk about it.

Mum sighed, hoping I wouldn’t do it again. I did understand — it was a big leap into something we don’t know the long-term consequences of. But I was determined to continue.

On the day of the egg collection, I was put under general anaesthetic. The last thing I remember is the anaesthesiologist joking ‘Here comes your pina colada.’

It took about ten minutes to retrieve the eggs, using a needle guided by ultrasound. I was then taken to the ward to wake up from the anaesthesia. As I came to, my mind felt cloudy and I drifted in and out. The nurses gave me juice and biscuits, and the doctor came to tell me they had collected 11 eggs (the average is between eight and 14).

In return, I was given a thank-you card and a box of chocolates. I felt relieved it was all over.

When I told friends about it, they said it was altruistic. I struggled to see it like that as I’ve tried not to think about it too much. If I did dwell on it all — the science, the families struggling to conceive, my potential biological children — it would be too overwhelming.

That said, I’ve always been interested to find out the outcome of my donations, so I opted into the HFEA system to be notified of any birth outcomes. Some donors choose to cut off contact, but I can’t imagine closing the door like that.

That’s why I received the email in 2018 to inform me of the ‘live birth of a male’. Stunned, I kept re-reading the message, as if I could glean any more information about this miraculous baby boy.

By the time my ‘son’ reaches 18 — and can legally contact me — I will be 44. I hope I’ll have children by then. I can daydream about happy families, but in my heart I know life is so much more complicated. 

That said, I refuse to be bothered by hypothetical family drama; we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.

I have since been told that the rest of the eggs from my 2017 donation were developed into embryos for sibling use for the same family.

I was a bit miffed to hear this — I had mistakenly thought 11 eggs would be split between several families. That’s partly why I decided to go through the donation process again this year.

These days there’s a ‘share and donate’ programme, which, seeing as I’m now in my 30s, I decided to go for. This meant I half the eggs would be frozen for my later use, and the rest would be donated. I would be given free storage for my own eggs for two years; from then I would pay an annual fee of £360.

Last year the actress Jennifer Aniston opened up about unsuccessful IVF and said she wishes she could have told her younger self to freeze her eggs. This spurred me on to do just that. And if I can help others in the process, why not?

So in January, the clinic collected 11 eggs, and another ten were harvested in May. In total, 12 were frozen for me.

I must admit, however, that I was overconfident about the process this time round. Believing I would bounce back as easily as I had at 25, I thought I could undergo the egg collection, have brunch, then head straight into work on the late news shift that finishes at 11pm. Big mistake.

By the end of the shift, I had crumpled at my desk with fatigue. I went home and slept for 13 hours.

Would I do it again? I haven’t ruled it out. They accept donors up to the age of 35. After that, the quality of your eggs has declined and they are not necessarily useful to recipients.

But I don’t want to become like those fanatical men who donate sperm hundreds of times, creating children all over the world who might bump into each other, unaware they are related.

Recently, I received an update from the clinic — there have been no further births from my first donation, and the eggs I donated this year will be making their way to a family around now. So who knows how many will become actual human beings? And if so, whether they will ever want to meet me.

Sometimes I find myself blurting it out to people. For example on dates when I say: ‘I don’t have children but…’

If that person is weird about it, then they’re not right for me anyway. Although the more we talk about it, the more accepted it becomes.

My mum still doesn’t want to talk about it, though. She does say, however, she would love to meet my biological ‘son’ one day, to see how he compares to me when I was little. I hope she doesn’t think of him as the grandson she doesn’t yet have.

Meanwhile, I am excited to see where this journey takes me, particularly if the law changes around anonymity. One thing’s for sure, it isn’t over yet.

Dinesh, a maize trader by profession, was swindled out of Rs 40 lakh by a Kanpur businessman and had become depressed since the incident.

Farrukhabad, UP: A shocking incident has emerged from a village in Uttar Pradesh’s Farrukhabad district where a debt-ridden man allegedly hacked to death his five-year-old son before hanging himself from a nearby tree, police said on Sunday.

According to reports, 38-year-old Dinesh Yadav allegedly assaulted his wife Meena (30) – his three daughters Aashi (10), Divya (11) and Pranshi (8) and 5-year-old son Osin with a sharp weapon around 3:AM on Sunday morning at their house in Ratanpur village under Jahanganj police station.

The victims were asleep when Dinesh reportedly slashed at them with a gandasa (a sharp-sharpened machete-like blade used in agriculture).

Superintendent of Police Vikas Kumar told PTI news agency that Dinesh’s younger sister, Sheetal, 22, woke up from all the commotion, rushed to her brother’s house and tried to intervene, but Dinesh also attacked her before entering the scene fled.

Neighbors also heard the unrest and rushed to Dinesh’s home, where they found his wife and three daughters with serious injuries while his 5-year-old son had died on the spot.

Later, around 6 am, the villagers found Dinesh’s body hanging from a tree near a well on the outskirts of the village and informed the police, the SP said, adding that Dinesh’s wife Meena and his three daughters have been admitted to Ram Manohar Lohia Hospital for treatment where their condition is said to be stable.

The senior officer said that a case has been registered under relevant sections of India’s Penal Code (IPC) in this regard and further investigation is ongoing, adding that the bodies of Dinesh and his toddler son have been sent for post-mortem .

Dinesh had recently suffered a huge financial loss which left him miserable as his maize business had also taken a hit.

The PTI report quoted villagers as saying that Dinesh, a maize trader by profession, had been scammed for Rs 40 lakh by a Kanpur businessman and had become depressed since the incident.

Station House Officer (SHO) Manoj Bhatti said police have collected forensic and other evidence from the Dinesh’s house and the spot where he was found hanging from a tree. “Further investigations are ongoing,” the SHO said.

(with PTI inputs)