Ruth van Heyningen obituary
Ruth van Heyningen, who has died aged 101, was a pioneering explorer of ophthalmic biochemistry, a field to which she made major contributions after she joined the Nuffield Laboratory of Ophthalmology, at Oxford University, in 1951.
Her research, much of which was carried out in collaboration with the laboratory’s then director, Antoinette (Tony) Pirie, was focused on the lens, in particular the biochemical pathways involved in the formation of cataracts. Tony and Ruth wrote a key book together, Biochemistry of the Eye (1956), which Ruth later said included almost everything that was known about the subject at that time.
Her work revealed novel pathways involved in cataract formation, and demonstrated, for instance, that monosaccharide sugars accumulate in the lenses of diabetic patients, generating sugar alcohols (polyols), including sorbitol, that are harmful to the lens. Using lenses obtained postmortem or after surgery, Ruth identified these compounds using paper chromatography and electrophoresis – the latest available separation methods – in the lenses of diabetic, but not nondiabetic, patients.
She was always modest, but confident of her carefully collected data, which she shared generously with colleagues. Her contributions to eye research included international projects, and the careers of several collaborators were founded on her initial findings.
Ruth was born in Newport, Monmouthshire, the daughter of Alan Treverton-Jones, a ship-owner, and his wife, Mildred (nee Garrod Thomas). Her father died when she was six, and her maternal grandfather, Sir Abraham Garrod Thomas, a doctor involved in local politics, became a major influence in her life.
After elementary school in Newport, Ruth was sent to Cheltenham Ladies’ college, as her mother had been. According to Ruth, the school was an unusual institution then, where the rules were both arbitrary and strict, and lacrosse was played before breakfast. She prospered in this atmosphere. Most of her friends went on, as she did, to successful professional careers in an era when that was not usually expected or encouraged for girls. In 1937, Ruth won an exhibition to Newnham College, Cambridge. She graduated in biochemistry in 1940, having spent the night before finals in an air-raid shelter.
One of Ruth’s younger tutors in biochemistry was William van Heyningen, known as Kits, who had come from South Africa in 1934 to do a PhD in the department. They married a month after her graduation. She then began a PhD, working with Robin Hill, a pioneer in the biochemistry of photosynthesis, and with the great enzymologist Malcolm Dixon.
However, this work, mostly on the effect of poison gases on metabolically important enzymes, was too secret to be published or even examined, so she was unable to complete the PhD by the time she and Kits moved to London. He did war work at the Wellcome Laboratories, and Ruth went to the Lister Institute to do research on blood group antigens.
In 1943, following the birth of their son, Simon, she gave up her work for a while, and she and Simon left London to escape the V bombs. They returned to London the following year, and a daughter, Joanna, was born in 1945, around the time of the bombing of Hiroshima and Nagasaki. Ruth recalled being unpopular with some of the other mothers because the disastrous effects of the atom bombs had led them to be hostile to scientists – unfair for someone who was subsequently an active member of CND.
In 1947, the family moved to Oxford, where Kits was appointed to a post at the Sir William Dunn school of pathology. Ruth soon began work on a DPhil in the anatomy department under the supervision of Joseph Weiner, one of the contributors to the exposure of the Piltdown forgery. Ruth’s research on the composition of sweat (collected from exercising conscripted miners) was the subject of her DPhil thesis in 1951.
There were not many working female scientists with young children in those days, even in Oxford, although Pirie was one, and Dorothy Hodgkin’s children were contemporaries of Simon and Joanna. Ruth organised her life to fulfil all her roles brilliantly and with grace and modesty. After she retired in the late 1960s, she remained academically active, with continued collaborations with colleagues and 20 further publications emerging until 1998, including population surveys of cataract incidence.
In 1965, when Kits became the founding Master of St Cross College, Oxford, for graduate students, Ruth became a founding fellow. Before the college acquired proper premises, she helped to cement the college socially by holding dinner parties at their home in the village of North Hinksey. She was a determined feminist and a strong role model for many women, and maintained a longstanding interest in leftwing politics.
Kits died in 1989. Ruth is survived by Simon and Joanna, four grandchildren and eight great-grandchildren.
• Ruth Eleanor van Heyningen, biochemist, born 26 October 1917; died 24 October 2019
saying, “Control the controllable.”
I live for the moment just before a race in a big stadium. When we’re all standing on the line, I feel the pressure and I’m all over it. Even when I’m watching football, my favourite bit is the penalties. In those seconds, you get to see what people are made of. For spectators, sprinting is one of the most intense sports events because the margins are so small. For us competitors, there’s really nowhere to hide from the work you haven’t done. If you haven’t been eating right or if you’ve had a hole in your training, when the gun goes, it shows. And that benefits me because I work so hard.
A lot of my confidence comes from my relationship with my parents. I’ve also inherited personality traits from both of them that help me in my career. My mum is excitable and when I’m on the track, I have her fire – wanting to go for everything. I always know when I finish a race that I can turn around and find her in the front row, jumping up and down. My dad is more reserved. He has a cool exterior and that’s useful for me when I need composure. I know to look for him a few rows behind my mum.
Growing up, I was the only child in the house (I have a half-brother who didn’t live with us) and the three of us were tight knit. They saw that I enjoyed sport and I was fortunate that around their full-time jobs, they gave me opportunities to try whatever I was interested in. When I wanted to try golf, my dad bought me cut-down clubs and had me attempting to putt balls in the back garden. My mum used to play hockey with me outside the house. They took me to so many clubs and classes. I don’t live with them now, but we speak every day and I see them at least three times a week.
I started training with my coach, John Blackie, in my mid-teens. We met when I was eight as he ran the kids’ academy at my running club. Along with my parents, the three of them always emphasised that they just wanted me to be happy. They never pushed me too early or for their own egos. And, as I’ve got older, I’ve realised that’s unique. When running became serious, I knew that if it all stopped being fun for me, I could stop doing it. They put Dina the person before Dina the runner.
As my career’s progressed, making difficult decisions has helped me understand myself better. I broke my foot in February 2018, five months before the World Championships were due to take place in London. I knew that the rehab should take six to 12 months, but I also knew that I really wanted to run in front of a home crowd. I spoke to my team about doing the rehab in two to three months. I was risking causing career damage to my foot. But I knew my body healed quickly and my doctor told me that while it would be physically and emotionally hard, he thought I could do it. I meticulously calculated my decision and although the cons outweighed the pros, I felt adamant that with support and being careful, we could get it right. It paid off.
Being as prepared as I can be is crucial as it keeps me calm and able to deliver in the moment. When I was studying history at uni I’d choose exams over coursework because I knew I could put the work in and perform under pressure. My degree also helped me keep what I’m doing in perspective. I was studying heavy things every day, like people facing prejudice because of their skin tone or sexuality, or women sacrificing their lives for others to have the right to vote. It made me realise how lucky I am that the thing that gets me most frustrated is somebody beating me on the track. While, yes, I make sacrifices – some easy, such as not drinking and going out, and some harder, like restricting the food that I eat – ultimately, what I do is entertainment.
While I take what I do very seriously, if it doesn’t go well, I don’t take it personally. What really matters to me isn’t going to change. Yes, the public might be disappointed and the newspapers might have a pop, but my parents and friends are still going to love me, and my coach is still going to be there. That knowledge allows me to stay relaxed under pressure.
Nobody goes into sport as a career for the fame, it’s too hard. Especially track. I do it because I love it and want to be the best. I never once thought I’d get on a train and be recognised by people and be asked to sign tickets. It’s lovely and I get to have a nice chat, but sometimes it can be overwhelming. So I make sure I take time for myself. I live on my own and for a day or two I’ll just do me. That means relaxing with facemasks and binge-watching Netflix. I’m currently watching Pose and RuPaul’s Drag Race(I’m so into drag culture), Greenleaf (a drama about family and deceit in an American super-church), and Bake Off. I keep thinking I’ll learn to meditate, but I haven’t got round to it.
My coach and I work in two-year blocks and always have a strategy to focus on – but it’s the Olympics next year so I’m not about to detail that in public. Everyone’s asking me about Tokyo, but I’m more focused on today. My friends told me they’ve booked flights and I’m like: “Well, you know you’re going before I do, boy!” I’ve got a winter of training to get through. And then I have to start the season, see how it goes, and then actually make the Olympic team.
It’s important for me to keep my hopes and dreams separate from other people’s. Mainly because they rarely align. People will project what they think my next step is, and I’m grateful everybody wants me to do well, but my next step has to be for me, not anyone else.
I go into my own world for four weeks before a major race