3 hours ago
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I was running with my friend Polly, dressed as a pair of boobs in aid of CoppaFeel – to raise awareness of the risks of undetected cancer in young people.
We weren’t necessarily fundraising for anyone we knew, we had just wanted to do our bit.
I had run races in fancy dress before this and felt very prepared to finish.
But not for what was to come.
At the time of starting the race, I knew that my friend Simon was in hospital with his family in Hong Kong, having just been diagnosed with stage 4 lymphoma – a blood cancer – a matter of days beforehand.
I knew that it wasn’t looking good – blood cancer is the fifth most common form of cancer and third most fatal in the UK.
By the time I crossed the finish line that morning, I had several missed calls from friends who were in Hong Kong telling me to expect the worst.
By that afternoon, we came to learn of Simon’s passing. It was a bittersweet moment – I was surrounded by around 20,000 elated runners fundraising for causes close to their heart, and had just learned that I had lost a dear friend to cancer, aged 31.
I couldn’t believe that Simon had passed so quickly, and sadly I wasn’t able to say goodbye properly because of COVID travel restrictions.
Simon and I met on a dancefloor of a nightclub in Hong Kong on the night of his 28th birthday in 2018 and instantly found a friendship through a mutual love of Belfast DJ duo Bicep, trail running and Hong Kong style BBQ pork.
We were young, single expats saying yes to basically everything Hong Kong had to offer. I just knew we had a future of laughter and fun ahead of us.
18 months before Simon’s passing, and a few years into our friendship, we ran our first ever ultra marathon together, the 50km Hong Kong trail.
I don’t think either of us were prepared for what was in store, but a healthy dose of ice creams, regular beer stops and a pack of Marlboro did the trick.
There’s a photo of us at the end of that run that I have on my wall at home.
We were both young and believed we had endless time ahead of us, and the world at our feet. Simon in particular lived life as if tomorrow wasn’t guaranteed, something I’ve tried to emulate in the years since his passing.
He would constantly try new things, and his enthusiasm was infectious. We’d travel to new countries, try new food and run stupidly long distances – all in the name of ‘giving everything a go and having a laugh’.
Simon didn’t do anything by halves, and that was true right up until he was admitted to hospital in spring 2022. He’d just ran a 70km all night ultra marathon, unaided, and seemed to be in peak condition.
At the time, I had moved back to the UK and was living in London, having been unable to visit Hong Kong since I left in 2020.
Just a few weeks later he was bed bound in hospital with misdiagnosed glandular fever, which is common for people suffering from lymphoma.
That’s the thing with this disease – it really can happen to anyone and can go undiagnosed so easily, with symptoms much more hidden than other types of cancer.
The most common symptom of non-Hodgkin lymphoma is a painless swelling in a lymph node, usually in the neck, armpit or groin – many people mistake it for simple infections.
He was keeping us updated with a sense of humour on WhatsApp from his hospital bed, with no visitors allowed while omicron swept through the city.
When Simon’s family flew in from Northern Ireland, they had to abide by strict quarantine rules, with near zero flexibility. Simon’s mum and aunty weren’t allowed out to visit Simon until he was already unconscious in hospital, on the day of his passing.
I think that was the most difficult thing for everyone to deal with, that we lost Simon without being able to say goodbye.
Simon lived life to the full – he constantly threw himself into new opportunities. He always said yes to life, and that meant he had twice as much fun in 31 years of life than some manage in a whole lifetime.
Something I believe is that when someone passes, a way of keeping them with you, is to keep their legacy alive in the way you lead your everyday life.
One way I do this is by taking 30 minutes each day to run and think of Simon and the impact he had on us. I’ve been running 5km every day for over 1,000 days. Remembering Simon is now a daily ritual.
Simon’s friends have to date fundraised a combined £100k in Simon’s name over the last few years to fund PHD research into the form of lymphoma cancer Simon passed away from, in the hope that testing, prevention and treatment can be much more effective in the future.
Since his passing, the Hackney Half is now a really important annual celebration of Simon’s life for me and his friends. We are determined to run it every year in his memory, and to raise more funds for Leukemia and Lymphoma Northern Ireland in his name.
The Hackney Half 2025 will be day 1,234 of consecutive 5km runs for me. For day 1,000, a few of us ran 100km in his honour, ending at his memorial bench in Bangor, Northern Ireland.
I’ve decided I’ll keep running till I can’t anymore – to me, it’s as simple as that. I’ll keep going until there aren’t any more stories like Simon’s.
Blood cancer takes 15,000 loved ones from us each year in the UK. So, I’ll keep running until that ends.
In Simon’s name and honour.
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