His last years

 Reg with another cheque for
 Compton Hospice.

Although his competitive racing days were over, he never hung up his running shoes, and continued to run and walk for enjoyment. By the end of 1992 he devoted much of his time to a book of poetry called “Broken Glass”. The book was written to raise money for Compton Hospice, which received a donation for every copy sold.

In 1994 Reg was diagnosed with cancer and despite his failing health he took part in his last event, the London to Brighton run on 22nd May. During the event Reg ran and walked 17 miles, accompanied by several members of his family to raise money for the START charity.

Reg spent his last few weeks in hospital, then at home in Beechwood Court. He died a much-loved father, and example to so many, on 9th November, 1994 at the age of 87.

Reg and his many great achievements will not be forgotten. In 1995 the Ironbridge Half Marathon was renamed in his honour, and from that year the Reg Davies Fun Run has taken place annually at Telford, in the process attracting many new runners to the sport.

The Reg Davies trophies continue to be presented to runners each year by his son Vic to encourage older people to compete at Ironbridge.

Between 1984 and 1994 Reg ran a total of 9,000 miles, competing in ten full marathons and dozens of shorter races, an incredible record for someone of his age. It was even more incredible because he suffered from asthma and arthritis.


A final view of Madge and Reg.

Reg was for many years, by far the oldest member of the "Running Sixties Club" and was one of ten remarkable pensioners who ran from John O'Groats to Land's End, and later from Paris to London. He must have raised over £25,000 for various charities; a marvellous achievement for an extraordinary man.

I shall finish this tribute with a poem from his book “Broken Glass” which sums up his philosophy on life, and “Never Too Old” a description of his achievements in his own words.

Sing me today's song
Or sing me tomorrow's;
Sing me no more
Of yesterday's sorrows.

Too soon tomorrow
Becomes yesterday;
Even the splendours
Of life pass away.

Lot's wife remember,
The high price she paid, Obsessed with the old ways, Of new ways afraid.

History books cheat us
And memories fail,
Yet Time can still guide us
To make truth prevail.

For life's full of challenge,
So much to improve;
The future comes running, The past cannot move.


   
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