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In 2016 I was training for the Belfast City Marathon in aid of a cancer support charity when I landed awkwardly on a running stride and hurt my lower back. For weeks I was barely able to walk any distance never mind run and with only a few months till race day I was worried that I would either fail to recover to be able to run, or my training would be so badly impacted that I wouldn't be fit enough to complete the race.

We had a lovely friend called Kirsty who was a physio therapist at the local hospital who we had got to know through Church. Kirsty was kind, caring and genuinely hilarious. We shared many evenings over a Dominos putting the world to rights and sharing stories together about life and faith. Many times when we were spending time together she would share a dream she had of moving to New Zealand and working out there, which wasn't just a pipe dream for Kirsty, she had done the work and often entertained us with her knowledge of the immigration system.

That same year she had been one of the first to visit us in hospital when our first daughter Emily was born prematurely and was always on hand with her house mates to lend a listening ear, provide a care package or just sit. Over the years we lived in Lincoln, if one of us was in hospital for whatever reason we could rely on a knock at the door and Kirsty would appear having found some sort of physiotherapy excuse to be in our particular ward (still not sure how she did that for the children's ward!)

That was our Kirsty, and she was the same to everyone she knew and loved. And it showed up during my running injury in the lead-up to the Belfast Marathon. Kirsty looked me in the eye and told me she would get me to that start line, and so she did. Regularly she would turn up at our house and torture (I mean... treat) me following training runs. My wife would be incredibly entertained listening to me squeal as Kirsty dug her elbows into my lower back. But she kept her word. I made it to the start line and even better the finish line.

Sadly we lost Kirsty on December 13th 2020, two days after her 28th Birthday. She had made that dream a reality and was living and working in New Zealand. In the days and weeks following her death I have hoped to raise some money in her memory and what better way than to run another marathon after she worked so hard and selflessly to help me through the last one? 

Kirsty's loss has been felt by everyone who knew her but especially by her family who are so incredibly proud of the woman she was. Kirsty's family have very kindly given me their blessing to undertake this challenge and have chosen the charity "Christian's Against Poverty (CAP UK)" I couldn't think of a more fitting charity to support in these particularly challenging times.

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