On October 21st 2002, my brother Huw Lewis died during a game of football in Saudi Arabia, where he had lived and worked for over four years. He left his pregnant wife Sarah and 5 year old daughter Molly, as well as a devastated set of parents, siblings, friends and colleagues. Huw’s death was additionally hard to take in as he was extremely fit, having played semi-professional football for many years. He was also training to take part in the 2003 London Marathon.
Huw was not just my brother, he was also my best friend, and we had grown up playing sport together, drinking together and laughing together. Our closeness was compounded by the fact that whilst I studied at University in Swansea, Huw was living and working in the city and then, when I moved to Cardiff to do a Masters degree, Huw also ended up moving to the city with his work. Therefore, even throughout my student days, Huw was a massive part of my life.
All I remember about the moment Sarah phoned me and my girlfriend Lucy to tell us that Huw had died, was sinking onto the kitchen floor in our house and uttering an almost primeval scream that came from deep inside me. Somehow, Lucy then got things together enough to drive me to London to pick up my younger sister Becki before we all set off on a rather surreal 5 hour journey home to my parents in Wales.
After the initial shock had subsided, a massive number of questions arose. Why did he die? What caused his death? Is there anything we could have done about it? Would he have felt anything? By a horrible irony, Huw’s wife Sarah was a qualified cardiac nurse and she immediately knew that it could be HCM. With this information in hand, I started searching the internet for any other information. Pretty quickly, I came upon the CRY website and, needing to speak to someone who may some more information, I phoned their number.
My first phone call was with Alison Cox, who instantly put me at ease with her ability to both console me but also supply me with facts and information about HCM. Over the course of the next couple of weeks, things became clearer. However, our family had to endure a horrible 2 week period following Huw’s death before we could even get his body flown home from the Middle East. It was only when his body was returned and an autopsy was undertaken that HCM was confirmed. Further analysis of his heart tissue confirmed that Huw had died of HCM.
Following the results of Huw’s autopsy, CRY very considerately arranged for myself and Becks to visit the British Olympic Medical Centre at Northwick Park Hospital. Once here, we met Greg Whyte, CRY Chairman, who was extremely welcoming and willing to answer any questions we had. We both then had an ECG and an echocardiogram, followed by a consultation with Mr Nigel Stephens. Thankfully all the tests showed no sign of any abnormality, which obviously reassured both us and our families. My elder sister Sian also had an ECG and echocardiogram a few weeks later and again, no abnormalities were detected.
Approximately 6 weeks after Huw’s funeral, me and Lucy flew to Australia for a long-planned 2-month break to travel and watch the England v Australia cricket series. The timing of this was fortuitous as it gave us both an opportunity to get away from home and take in everything that had happened. However, the trip was particularly poignant, as Huw had also been a massive cricket fan and had regularly travelled the world with the ‘Barmy Army’ to watch England play cricket, taking a very large flag with him displaying the name of our cricket club back in Wales. A few weeks before his death, he had sent this flag to me with the strict instructions to hang it at all the grounds we visited. Therefore, on Boxing Day at the Melbourne Cricket Ground, traditionally the biggest day in the Australian cricketing calendar, I was full of emotion as I managed to secure our flag in a prime position on the main stand.
This trip also provided me with a lot of time to think and it was during this trip that I vowed to do all I could to assist CRY in their work in raising the awareness of HCM and associated conditions that contribute to Sudden Adult Death Syndrome.
Having attended the 2003 Flora London Marathon as a spectator to watch Lucy’s brother Tom run, I vowed to run the 2004 event on behalf of CRY. Therefore, I applied for a Golden Bond place which was subsequently confirmed late in 2003. Following my acceptance to the race, I began a demanding training schedule, based on a 16-week program obtained off the internet. As with most brothers, myself and Huw were very competitive and proud of our sporting achievements, therefore I wanted to ensure that I ran a decent time in this, my first marathon.
I had run county level cross-country at school and also played a lot of football and cricket, therefore I had a relatively good base level of fitness. However, the next 16 weeks tested both my mental and physical resolve as I religiously followed the set training schedule that required me to run almost every day. The first 4-5 weeks went well as I settled into a routine involving getting home from work and being out on the road within 10 minutes. However, things began to get hard around week 6 as aches and pains started to develop and the weather became pretty grim. However, during all this training period, I was driven on to run by the thought of Huw and the money that people had sponsored me. My girlfriend Lucy was also a real star during my training, constantly having a warm bath ready for me when I returned from my runs, along with a meal.
Before I knew it, Marathon weekend was upon us. Myself and Lucy travelled down to London on the Friday night before making our way to the Registration on Saturday, followed by a short trip to the CRY Reception. This was a great opportunity to finally meet Alison and Steve Cox face to face, and also to meet other runners who had suffered similar bereavements. It was particularly notable when I met a fellow runner whose brother-in-law had died during a half-marathon, leaving his pregnant wife. The parallels to Huw’s death and Sarah’s situation were similar and my chat with this runner really brought back strong memories.
On to race day and with it, an extreme mixture of emotions. Excitement about the race and the atmosphere, trepidation as to whether I could complete it, nerves about not letting people down, sadness as to why I was running and pride about the training I had put in. I started the race running with Tim Simmons, an old college friend of Huw who was also running on behalf of CRY. The first 4-5 miles were brilliant, with an amazing atmosphere generated by the crowds. We were also both in stitches from laughing, not running, when the two groups of runners from the various starts met and both groups booed and bombarded each other with wet sponges.
At around mile 6, we agreed to separate, as I was running at a slightly quicker pace than Tim. After a quick pat on the back and a reassuring word, I set off. I was now into a good running rhythm, although it was sometimes tricky avoiding runners in front who veered off to collect water. At Rotherhithe, I saw Lucy and some close friends patiently standing in the rain and this gave me a real lift.
Passing over Tower Bridge was another great memory, having watched many marathons on TV. In the immediate miles after Tower Bridge I ended up running with a larger-than-life character who expended valuable energy shouting at the crowd and encouraging them to cheer. As a result, a stretch of about 3-4 miles was run against a soundtrack of almost constant cheers, which made me feel rather important!
Into the Isle of Dogs and Canary Wharf, I was still feeling good. I received another major boost when I saw Lucy again, this time with my parents, who had travelled up from Wales to watch. Seeing the smile on my parent’s faces was something I will never forget. After this, things began to get increasingly harder, although yet another sighting of an old school friend at around Mile 19 helped.
By the time I reached Mile 21, I was into new territory, having never run more than 20 miles in my training. However, although my legs were weary, I never hit the infamous `wall`. Plenty of pasta in the lead up along with decent training paid off and this filled me with confidence. Another notable memory was running over the cobbles at the Tower of London, another image from TV marathons that resulted in a somewhat strange feeling as I realised that this time, I was actually taking part, and not simply watching.
Then onto the last leg of the race and the incredible noise through the road tunnel leading up to the Embankment. This was trumped, however, by my third and final sighting of Lucy, my parents and sister Becks on the roadside, again all wearing huge, proud smiles. This boost of seeing them spurred me up the Embankment and by this stage thoughts of Huw were firmly in my head. However, one last surprise lay in store for me.
As I turned into Parliament Square I just recall the sheer number of spectators lining the streets. Imagine my surprise when I noted one brave individual apparently hanging off a lamp-post draped in a Welsh flag. Following a quick double take I was amazed to note that it was Lucy`s dad George, with wife Glen below on the pavement. This final sighting of people I knew drove me on that last mile and a bit and as I turned the corner past Buckingham Palace, I even managed to break into something, which I convinced myself at least, resembled a sprint. I crossed the line in a time of 3:45:06, with a definite feeling of my big brother nodding appreciably but probably commenting that he would have done 3:45:05!
Immediately after finishing and getting my timing chip removed and collecting my medal, a massive wave of emotion hit me as I realised what I had just achieved and why I had done it. Fighting back tears, I walked up to Horseguard`s Parade to meet my family and friends where I was greeted with countless hugs and kisses and more tears. By this time, any feelings of sadness had disappeared to be replaced with an overwhelming feeling of achievement and pride.
We then navigated our way to the hotel where CRY runners were meeting. Here I was treated to an amazing massage and hot bath, plus a celebratory beer. At the hotel, I met back with Tim who had run an amazing race to finish in 3:54. Considering he thought he had no chance of getting anywhere close to 4 hours, this was a great result and we both had wide grins on our faces for the rest of the day.
Following the post-race get together, I returned home, full of memories and emotions of the day that had just gone. As I drifted off to sleep that night, I said a few words to Huw and I know that he heard me and he was smiling.
By Jonny Lewis
