Sixty seconds' worth of distance run

“If there’s any analogy to be drawn between marathon running and enduring grief, it shouldn’t turn on one great exhausted clash of will against circumstance. It should accommodate a million training runs, aches and doubts, stops and starts, setbacks, tiny advances, odd connections, and, ultimately, not triumph, but joy and renewal.”

 Catriona Menzies-Pike

Grief is so scary.

It touches all the most terrifying parts of being human: Death. Loss. Loneliness. The realisation that we control very little in this life. The impermanence of all of our relationships.

And at heart, our own mortality.

These past two months have been a reminder of this.

A reminder that life, just like running, isn’t really about crossing a finish line, but living in the moment and enjoying the journey, regardless of how painful or overwhelming it may be.
Even when everything hurts and you just want to quit, you have to have hope that if you can keep putting one foot in front of the other, you’ll get through it.

You will survive anything if you have hope.

If you can fill the unforgiving minute

    With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run   

Rudyard Kipling

If - written by Rudyard Kipling, is one of my favourite poems. My Mum sent it to me a few years ago when I was going through a tough time and it is framed on my bedroom wall as a reminder of the importance of resilience.

So it was a great comfort when I heard the familiar words spoken at the end of Grandma's Eulogy.

The Minister made light of the fact that Grandma was such an organised woman that she had even organised her own funeral - he had the list of instructions she had given him to prove the fact.


Of course, this made us all laugh, just as she would have planned it to.
Grandma always made me laugh.
There was never a visit or phone call that wasn't filled with laughter and love. She had such love for everyone who knew her, except for maybe the lady down the street who had the barking dogs, and her legacy will live on because of this.

Grandma the Great.

I ran the Kangaroo Island Marathon for  Grandma. A lot of people have said to me how proud she would have been, but really, I am the one who is proud of her and everything she achieved in her life.

I could feel her with me on the run pushing me up all the big hills, just as she had done many times before. She even pushed me to a new PB of 3:45:27.

The marathon itself was beautiful, set in the Flinders Chase National Park. It certainly took my breath away. Although it was a sad time I was very grateful to have my Mum and Matilda with me, and we had a nice couple of days together exploring Kangaroo Island.

It has taken me so long to write this blog because I had in my mind that I wanted to write it as a tribute to my Grandma. However, each time I sat down to write, nothing would happen. 

All I can think about is that this will be the first one that she doesn't read. She would always send me a note after each marathon and tell me how much she enjoyed my words of wisdom and to keep up the good work, and above all keep running.

And it makes me very sad that that won't happen anymore.

And nothing I can write will change that.

So I guess all there is left to do is... keep running.

In Loving Memory of

Margaret Florence Heath

30th April 1930 - 24th August 2017

Happy running x