Pop six squish uh uh

I am a very slow runner. I know this because when my husband and I entered a race together last year he had to run backwards in order to run at my pace. Backwards, and also sideways (those horsy looking gallopy things you do up hills) and then large looping circles so that he could rejoin me in my position as permanent back-of-the-packer.

But here's my excuse. You see, I love musical theatre. I adore it. And its on my playlist so my running is constantly interrupted by my need to pop six squish uh uh or gliddy gloop gloopy nibby nobby nooby la la la lo lo. Running on its own isn't easy. But try doing it with jazz hands because Velma demands it, waving at strangers because Tracy says good morning Baltimore, or step-ball-changes because the Joseph ensemble is in the gloriously glittery final throes of the megamix finale. You see? That's why I'm slow. No other reason. None at all.

I run because I can.

Friends who've known me for years are often bemused by the fact that I've taken up running. After all, they knew me when I was a plumpish couch potato with a penchant for reality tv, harry potter, ice cream and daydreaming. So I often get asked why I do it, and how I got started.

Its a tricky question to answer. But I think I have four main reasons. The first is that I have found, quite by accident, that running helps to quell the rising anxieties I have battled since we moved to Perth from Sydney three years ago. The second is that I have discovered that running is, surprise suprise, a child free activity which is rare occurrence in itself, but also one that has my husband's full blessing and support. The third is that I find setting myself goals, working towards them and ultimately achieving them (like running my first 10km, 12km etc) makes a massive difference to my self esteem, perceptions of what I am capable of, my health and weight, and ultimately my happiness levels.

But perhaps the most powerful reason that I have learned to love running is that I have learned that I am fallible, and that I will not last forever. My husband was diagnosed with cancer several years ago, but is thankfully now fully recovered. My dear friend Marion was diagnosed with a brain tumour last year, and sadly she passed away a few months later. And another long-standing friend who lives overseas is currently doing a spectacularly brave battle with ovarian cancer. As I stand by helplessly and watch these three dearly loved warriors fight for their lives, and hear stories about many others, I realise that the one thing that cancer patients all long for is the one thing I take daily for granted: a healthy body. And to use it, enjoy it, test it and push its limits is a truly privilege and an honour, and a temporary one at that. So when I run, I think about the joy that comes from running on behalf of the loved ones who can't join me. And I think about the fact that one day I might not be able to run either, but at least I can look back at myself and say, hey, I did well there. I tried and persevered and succeeded. And ultimately, I run because I can.