The Power of Running


I am a drinker, a smoker, eat too much, and am 5 foot 3 with little legs and big boobs.

I am not a runner.

I do not have the physique, and I do not have the drive.

I am not an Olympian; I do not run a marathon before breakfast.

I do not obsess about adding 5% to each run to reach a goal.

I get laughed at and pointed at when I run and people in cars beep me while laughing to their mates at the site of me running.

But I do run!

[...]

As I got close to my goal, I was arguing with myself:

‘I’m tired’ - ‘Keep going.’

‘I’m hungry’- ‘Live with it.’

‘I could just finish here?’- ‘Oh yeah? How are you going to get home?’

‘I don’t want to bloody do it’- ‘Okay. Fine. But if you don’t finish it, I will punish you tomorrow.’

But, If not now, when?

I finished the run. It took all of me to finish.

[...]

How could she leave me? How could she be so selfish?

I hobbled towards the half way point, and called my Dad. ‘I can’t do it Dad. I’m in a lot of pain. I’m sorry that you donated money. Can I finish?’

He told me to be proud of myself for getting that far, and to go home and have a bath and call him in the morning.

When I got to Hove Park I shouted at the announcer. I was in tears and knew I couldn’t complete. My left foot was in so much pain I was struggling to walk. The announcer said ‘You’re here! You've finished. You did it!’