running out of excuses

I'm rarely described as an emotional sort of person.

But on Friday night, as I sprinted down the home straight towards the bellowing crowd at the Matamata Domain, I did feel something of the warm fuzzies.

Not just because the Tower Run was finally over and I hadn't a) died, or b) come last, or c) repeated my primary school performance of crying bitterly at the finish line because I was too tired and slow and all my friends had finished ages ago.

It was something to do with being a part of a community event; one that I'll admit I never would have dreamt of doing otherwise. I've lived in Matamata most of my life and have had friends who have run the Tower Run religiously in the past, but not being a 'runner' myself, I laughed off any notion of joining them. Seven kilometres? Stuff that. What is the fun - or point - of running somewhere; much less trying to beat a bunch of other people on the way?

I suppose my dislike for public sporting events stems from my memories of school sport as a kid. I hated PE. I hated netball. At the Hinuera school cross country - and worse, the inter-school cross country - I would invariably come dead last, stumbling and gasping my way towards the finish line while teachers called out encouraging things like, "good girl... not far now... oh, you're doing so well!"

I was not sporty. I was a nerd. I spent my primary school days in the library or under a tree reading Enid Blyton. And, despite growing up on a farm and running all over it with my brother and sister, I did not perform well when it came to running races or playing sport.

But, after packing on a few kilos at university (I blame stodgy hostel food and cheap wine) I packed myself off the to the gym and slowly developed quite a love affair with fitness. After finishing my degree, I even did an Outward Bound course and ran a half-marathon; something that would have been quite beyond the comprehension of my dumpy 10-year-old self. Now, I run or work out nearly every day.

Still, getting fit on your own is one thing; comparing your ability to other people - especially people you have to face at work - is quite another. It took a bit of coaxing from my colleagues to convince me to join the team for this year's Tower Run. Even then, as the day drew nearer, I admit there was a tiny hope that I'd trip over a shoelace and break my leg or contract the latest form of swine flu and find myself bed-ridden.

But as I dragged my weary body away from the time-keepers after crossing the finish line on Friday, it wasn't just the big sloppy "9" marked on my hand in vivid that had me eurphoic. It was the fact I'd done it; I'd broken down a wall of "I can't" and replaced with a "wow - I damn well can."

Cheesy? Totally. Inspiring? Maybe.

And apparently, the Hamilton Round the Lake race is in three weeks' time...