Dedications
Every person remembered here lived a life filled with love, joy, and uniqueness — lives heartbreakingly cut short by cancer. They each left behind families and friends who carry their memory every day. This page shares a glimpse into who they were, the things that lit them up, and the impact they had on those around them. Some families have also chosen a charity close to their hearts, so that their legacy continues through this challenge.
David MacIver
My Uncle Dave was a extraordinary man — intelligent, honest, generous, affectionate and the complete life of the party. He was so popular and always playing host to gatherings of family and friends. I could spend the rest of my life being social and still not fit as much in as he managed to pack into each year. He was a role model to me in the way he lived, the way he enjoyed life, and the kind of father and husband he was. He was so incredibly proud of his children, Marnie and Jonah, and of his wife Sarah, with whom he shared both a business and a life filled with love.
Losing him to cancer left a hole that words cannot really fill, but it also planted the seed for this challenge. Before he passed, I told him about my plan to fight back in the only way I knew how — through running. 10 for Them was born from that conversation. Dave’s birthday was October 12, which is the day I will finish this challenge at the Melbourne Marathon. That final run will be for him. Every kilometre of these ten marathons is about honouring the stories of people whose lives were cut short by cancer, but it will all come together on that day as I carry his memory across the finish line.
In honour of Dave, his family have asked that donations be directed to Sarcoma UK, a charity that was close to their hearts. Supporting them is one way to ensure his spirit continues to make a difference.
William Stuart
William Stuart was just eight years old, yet carried a wisdom and presence well beyond his years. He was highly intelligent, endlessly curious, and could outtalk most adults with ease. At the same time, he held onto the pure wonder of childhood — delighting in Lego creations, dancing, and long chats about whatever had captured his imagination that day. People were naturally drawn to him, sensing his ability to make others feel seen, valued, and appreciated. Even strangers would stop in the street, offering him coins or simply wanting to connect.
Diagnosed with A.L.L Leukaemia, William faced his four cancer battles with extraordinary resilience and joy. He transformed his time in Starship Hospital into a never-ending slumber party, lifting the spirits of those around him. One of his favourite nurses was even “proposed to” with a ring he’d saved up for, in front of the entire oncology department — and she said yes. For all his chatter, William also cherished quiet moments, especially floating on his back in the water, weightless and at peace. Though the world has been robbed of the man he was destined to become, his family holds close the memory of a boy who radiated love, humour, and maturity far beyond his years. His light continues to shine in every person who had the privilege of knowing him.
In honour of William, his family have asked that donations be directed to the Child Cancer Foundation of New Zealand, a charity that supported them and continues to support many other families.
Luiz Philippe
Luiz Philippe was first diagnosed with kidney cancer at just 37, a battle he faced with the same strength and determination he brought to every part of his life. He was 40 when he passed away, leaving behind a legacy of love and resilience. Loving, loyal, smart and athletic, Luiz was deeply devoted to his daughter Maya, who was always at the centre of his world. He also shared a special bond with his dog KK, and he poured his energy into endurance sports, especially running. As both a runner and a dad to daughters myself, I feel a strong connection to Luiz as a kindred spirit. He had that same “all in” approach to sport, whether it was cycling, surfing, snowboarding or running, and he was always fully kitted out with an ever-growing collection of bikes (3), surfboards (4), snowboards (3), and running shoes (~1 million)… all just a reflection of his clear passion and enthusiasm!
Beyond sport, what made Luiz truly special was the way he loved and cared for his family. His wife Soraya remembers the countless thoughtful gestures that showed how deeply he paid attention, like bringing her chocolate from the city, ordering little things to make life safer or easier, and living every day by a strong sense of right and wrong. He was the most special person she knew, and the values he lived by are the ones she now hopes to pass on to Maya. The great sadness is knowing Luiz will not see his daughter grow up or achieve his dream of completing the UTMB ultra marathon. But his love, strength and spirit live on in Maya, in the memories of his family, and in the pride of every person who had the privilege to know him.
Kenny Small
I first met Kenny when he visited his daughter Lisa — my good friend — in Japan, and I remember being struck immediately by his genuine warmth and the incredible pride he showed in her. That first impression never left me, and it was exactly who Kenny was at heart: thoughtful, generous, funny, and full of life.
Family meant everything to Kenny. He loved nothing more than cooking a meal to share with those he loved, often finishing with an Irish whiskey, a board game, and a lot of laughter. Some of his happiest moments were being silly with his grandchildren — spotting planes together, throwing impromptu kitchen discos, and creating memories filled with joy and playfulness. Even while facing the challenges of lymphoma, Kenny never let it dull his humour, his spirit, or the deep joy he found in family.
Kenny carried a keen sense of adventure and a love for the world. He travelled widely, relished the sun, enjoyed fast cars and good whisky, and in later years discovered a passion for baking. Though he never sought the spotlight, he quietly delighted in treating others with thoughtfulness and generosity. His eclectic taste in music, his ever-ready smile, and his zest for life continue to inspire his family, who are grateful for every memory but deeply miss sharing new adventures with him. Kenny’s love and spirit live on in every laugh, every shared meal, and every silly dance.
Graeme Bennett
Graeme Bennett was 67 when he faced stomach cancer. He was a hardworking bloke, always ready for a laugh, and someone who could turn even the most ordinary day into a good story. Graeme had a real love for cars, especially Toyota Corollas, often saying you didn’t need any other car if you looked after it. He owned a few racehorses and loved spending time at the track, and he had a soft spot for animals, especially his neighbours’ grey cat, Dusty. He also had one of those wonderfully varied careers that you don’t often hear about anymore, working at different times as a policeman, a lingerie salesman and running a debt collection agency. No matter what he was doing, he was always the first to lend a helping hand.
Graeme’s family remember him best through the funny, everyday stories that captured his spirit. Like the time, while running the debt collecting agency, he mistakenly repossessed a lounge suite from the wrong house, only to have to sneak it all back before the owners came home. Or the day he came back from down the street with a go-kart, happily doing laps around the house before giving the kids rides with him. Those moments showed both his sense of fun and his love for family. The sadness is that he never got the chance to meet his grandchildren, moments his family know he would have treasured deeply. Graeme’s humour, generosity and warmth continue to live on in the stories that are told and retold, keeping his memory alive in every smile.
Claude Spinozzi
Claude Spinozzi was the uncle of my good friend Jason, who will also be running the Melbourne Marathon with me on October 12. That date holds even more meaning, as it is also the shared birthday of Claude and my own Uncle Dave, whose memory will carry me through the final steps of this challenge.
Claude was just 58 when he faced esophageal and liver cancer. Relaxed, quiet and easygoing, he was someone whose presence always put people at ease. He loved celebrating family milestones and holidays, especially trips to Queensland, and he had a taste for bright, unique watches, fast cars, motorcycles and trucks. Painting gave him joy, but what people remember most was his unmistakable laugh, loud, infectious and guaranteed to make everyone around him start laughing too. Jason still recalls sitting in the cinema with him watching Shrek for the first time, where every burst of Claude’s laughter set the entire cinema off in fits of laughter as well.
It is a sadness that he never had the chance to meet his great-niece Alessandra, born this year, and that he will miss future milestones such as his son’s wedding and the joy of future grandchildren. Yet his family are determined to carry him with them in spirit, making him part of those moments with their love and memory.
Neal McMahon
Neal was 61 when he passed away from pancreatic cancer. He had a great sense of humour and the kind of laugh you could hear before you saw him, a sound that instantly lifted the mood of those around him. Always willing to lend a hand, he was happiest when helping with projects around the house, surfboard never too far away. Surfing was his joy, and the coast was where he felt most at home.
What made Neal special was the way he combined that humour and generosity with a love of life on the water. He dreamed of seeing his granddaughter Riley grow up and take to a surfboard herself, a moment he sadly missed. For his family, his laughter and spirit remain ever-present, echoing in the waves he loved and in the memories he left behind. Through Reece, my sister’s partner, I feel grateful to honour Neal in this challenge and to celebrate the impact he continues to have through his family.
Michael Crowhen
Michael Crowhen was 50 — a man whose life pulsed with laughter, rhythm, and heart. A devoted dad, a gifted drummer, and a mate who always had time for everyone, he had that rare ability to make people feel lighter just by being around him. Whether behind a drum kit, at work, or catching up with friends, he brought energy, humour, and optimism to every moment.
Music ran through his veins. He played in countless bands, went to endless gigs, and loved the camaraderie of shared rhythm and noise. Outside of music, he found joy in sport, in family, and in the simple pleasure of good company and great banter. He loved a challenge, worked hard, and met life with a grin that rarely left his face.
When Michael was diagnosed with aggressive metastatic HPV+ throat cancer, he faced it with the same courage and positivity that had defined him all along. Even as things grew tough, he kept smiling, laughing, and lifting others up. That optimism — that unwavering light — is what those who loved him remember most. His family, friends, and bandmates carry his beat forward, proud to have known a man who truly lived in tune with joy.
Philip “Bomber” Lancaster
Philip Lancaster — known to everyone simply as Bomber — was 64 when he passed away from brain cancer. A much-loved husband, father, and grandad, Bomber was one of those rare people who seemed to have time and laughter for everyone. He valued his family deeply and had a wide circle of friends who adored his company. His cheeky grin and easy-going nature made him the kind of man everyone wanted to be around.
Bomber was a true socialite with passions as varied as his friendships. He loved camping, fishing, golf, lawn bowls, punting, football, travelling, and any excuse to enjoy good food and wine. He lived life to the fullest, always ready for a laugh, a story, or a round with mates.
Generous, loyal, and endlessly kind, Bomber was the sort of person who gave more than he took. As a boss, he supported others without hesitation. As a friend, he showed up when you needed him most. And as a husband and father, he was deeply loved. Even when facing the brain tumours that took over so much of his mind, he never complained — a reflection of the quiet strength and positivity that defined him.
There are countless stories about Bomber — too many to fit here — but the ones that matter most are the ones told through laughter, love, and the enduring memories of those who knew him. His family and friends continue to celebrate the life of a man who made every room brighter and every day more fun just by being in it.
