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.
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A final view of Madge and Reg.
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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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