I’ve never been a very good runner, but I have been rather enthusiastic from time to time. I’ve joined in many a fun run and have ended almost all as a slow, sluggish walk to the final gasp. At one of my most enthusiastic times, I registered for a fun run with the Adelaide Harriers.
The club was running a 5 km run which involved looping and re-looping around an oval at night. I started gingerly and felt the breeze as the fitter runners started, left me behind, and ultimately lapped me. I think the requirement for the full race was about 10 laps of this oval. By my second lap, I was over it all and started to slink into my slow walk. A crowd of runners who had already finished had formed, cheering on the stragglers. So, I tried to look engaged as I passed the party crowd.
I was most surprised to be joined by some encouragers who were running beside me, saying things like “You can do it”, “It’s not far now” and the like. But I knew I had at least eight full laps to go … there was a serious likelihood that I would still be running when all others had gone home. As I approached the finish line it became apparent that nobody had twigged to the fact that I was still on my second lap and had many more to go.
The crowd roared, and there was much clapping and screaming words of encouragement as I approached the finish line, which wasn’t a finish line at all in my case. As I crossed the line, bless them, they ran toward me and jostled me like I was an Olympic champion. They clearly thought I had run my race, and I wasn’t about to tell them that I had several laps pending. I was escorted to the winner’s podium… imagine my surprise.
Apparently, as a 50-year-old woman, I had set a record for the club, and they presented me with a medal. Hmmm, I was not 50. I hadn’t even cracked thirty, and I hadn’t finished the race. I slunk off home in the dark. Well, what would you do?
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