One foot in front of the other: Pain isn’t alway a bad thing
Running can be brutal, sometimes unforgiving and often utterly painful. But even when we’re in pain, we’re lucky because we get to keep going, writes Lisa Mayoh.
Opinion
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Seeing Carrie Bickmore and her swag of celebrity mates tough it out in the Big 5 Marathon — a unique marathon in Entabeni Game Reserve in South Africa where runners can encounter the “big 5” game animals — to raise a staggering million odd dollars for her Carrie’s Beanies for Brain Cancer, triggered all sorts of emotions for me this week.
Firstly – running is hard. Add unforgiving heat, 45 degree inclines and cheetahs on your path and you really are running for your life.
They vomited. Cried. Tore muscles. Carried friends. Rallied. And together, they finished.
A very fit Tommy Little said it was the hardest thing he’s ever done, and not just physically.
Same with the lovely Gemma O’Neill. What I admire most is when every single step hurts – and yet, you keep going.
I run a lot – most days if I can, but I do it with a friend and it’s in a very controlled environment. I love it. Planned races are harder.
I’ve done a handful of half marathons and haven’t ‘won’ the experience yet – it’s just crossing the line, beating a time – getting it done and collapsing into the crowd steps after the finish.
If I’m honest, the promise of a friend-filled long boozy lunch at the other end got me through most of those races – except one.
It was the year that my best friend died.
We were 36 and I had three little kids. Vanessa had triple negative breast cancer – a disease far more brutal even just six years ago, thanks to research and charities that fund it – and her end came faster than we thought it would.
The race was two days after her funeral. The 800-person strong funeral that she asked me to read a letter she’d written to us all – about life, love and how much she didn’t want to leave us.
It was the hardest thing I’d ever done – until that race. But her letter told me to keep pushing, keep challenging myself – so I had to do it. And I had to do it for her.
But I was exhausted after a draining few months. Run down. Mentally, totally and utterly depleted.
Halfway though those 21.1km, Vanessa’s funeral song came on my Spotify … and I lost it. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t take one more step, and started to look around for someone to just pick me up and take me home.
That’s when someone came up behind me, put her hands on my back and told me to keep going.
When I turned around, I saw it was my dear old friend Michelle – the same friend who took me on my first ever run two years earlier.
Incredibly, she’d picked me out of the sea of black and navy tights and knew I needed her. I kept going that day. Because of Michelle, and for Vanessa. Just like Carrie and Tommy kept going.
It’s brutal. Totally and utterly brutal. But it’s worth it. Because even though we’re in pain, aren’t we lucky we get to … keep going.
Huge congrats to all involved in the Big 5 – and to anyone who doesn’t think you can do something – whether that’s finish a race or beat a disease – you’ve got this. One foot in front of the other.
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