night before the big run, Chilli was nervous. She didn’t want to drink too much in the morning and have to make bathroom stops along the way. And one of the promises she’d made to Sam, she’d kept. She still didn’t necessarily enjoy eating, but she ate all the same. Sam was right, she had been too thin and it wasn’t healthy. With the gym program that she had thrown herself into when Rob had gone, and eating a little more in the last couple of months, she was starting to look like the old Chilli, but with great muscle tone.
Bright and early, Sam and Miranda came by to pick her up, hoping to drop her as close to the start line as they could get.
As she got out of the car, Sam hugged his mother. “Are you sure you want to do this?” he asked.
“I want to do this,” she told him, nerves now growling in her stomach.
“Good luck then. Remember, we’ll be waiting at the finish line. You don’t have to hurry.”
Pinning her number onto her tee-shirt, she joined the huge crowd. The energy was contagious. Before she knew it, the gun went off and the crowd surged forward. Even though it was exciting, it was difficult. Groups were trying to keep together, and some were even holding hands, making it impossible to get through.
Being on a bridge, the course was on a gradual incline, making the run physically harder than she had imagined. Once she reached the top of the bridge, she thought it would become easier. Instead, it was now harder on her joints as they took the full weight of her body pounding forwards. She hadn’t prepared for this. However, once she was two kilometres away from the bridge, she was able to look back with a clear view, and was quite proud of what she’d achieved already. That spurred her on, and gave her the confidence to keep going.
In the fresh morning air, for the first time in almost a year, her head felt clear. She felt as long as she paced herself, she’d be fine.
But no one told her legs that. The muscles in her thighs had begun to make themselves noticed. At the half way point at Brett’s Wharf, they decided enough was enough. Chilli was ready to agree with them. She’d run six kilometres. Heart hammering madly, sweating profusely, thighs burning and knees wobbling, really it was enough. She could stop now. She should stop now. It was enough. No it wasn’t. It was giving up. She had to prove something to herself. In fact, deep down, she knew she had to. This internal dialogue was ongoing, when she spotted Sam’s black Jeep Wrangler in the car park. Hanging out the window, he called out, “Mum, keep going. You’re doing fine. Keep going. You can do it.”
Red faced and panting, she waved, taking his encouragement and turning it into determination. Yes, she could do it. That was the plan. On she went. Sometime later upon reaching Breakfast Creek, she spotted Tiffany waving to her. “Go Aunt Chill. Go, go, go!”
Another couple of kilometres down the road she became unsteady again. While she ran, someone passed her water in a disposable cup. Gratefully, she gulped at it. But she had no more puff left. Her heart was hammering and her clothes were drenched. It was much harder than she had anticipated. She had lost her rhythm and her breathing was ragged. And then she spotted Sam running along the footpath beside her.
“What are you doing?” she asked, gasping for air.
“Just keep going.”
“Don’t think I can … need a bathroom stop,” she panted.
“No you don’t. You’ll be right. Keep going!”
She held her hand up. Her tone was urgent. “No. I need to stop.”
He spoke as if giving her an order, “You aren’t stopping.”
“My legs are killing me. My chest is hurting.” Her voice had risen to a whine.
“Pace yourself Mum. Slow up a little. It’s not a race!”
But it was. It was her race.
Sam jumped back in his car and took off for the next spot. As she ran, unaware the tears began to flow. I can do this, she thought, tears streaming. I have to do this. She had started out too quickly on the bridge and had run out of steam. She tried to get into a better rhythm.
“I am doing this for Rob. I am doing this for Rob,” she chanted through her tears.
It was then she saw the next sign - two kilometres. Two kilometres is a long way when you don’t have much more to give. She was hot, too hot. Sam had told her not to wear a cap. He’d said that her head would get too hot and it would annoy her. But she had ignored him, insisting that she needed to keep the sun off her face. She took it off and wiped away the perspiration. Now she had to carry the damn thing. Maybe I should stop, she thought. I can walk the rest of the way. I’ve done okay.
“Mum,” Sam called. She spun around.
He was merely metres away, running along the footpath keeping pace. “Pass me your cap.” She threw it to him.
“Keep going, I’m going to see you at the finish line.”
“I think I have to stop,” she panted, making it hard for him to hear her. There was a pain in her chest and it was obvious that she was becoming distressed. Without wanting to, a sob escaped from within her.
Sam fell in beside her, speaking firmly, “You’re not going to stop. You have to do this. I’m going to run with you. Come on.” Then he set a pace for her, encouraging her to keep going. Without even knowing it, she was still crying, and every now and then she’d let out a sob. And to make it worse, she really did need a bathroom stop.
Touching Sam’s sleeve she begged. “Let me stop, Sam. That’s enough.” Another sob escaped, and she brushed at her cheeks with the back of her hand.
His voice broke with emotion. “You can’t Mum. You have to do it.” He knew how important it was for her to finish.
“I’m going to help you, okay. One foot in front of the other. We’ll drop back a bit if that helps; stay with me, keep pace. Come on, breathe.” And then he pointed to the signboard. “Look only one more kilometre.” His encouragement went on. “You can do it. I’m with you all the way.” For a few minutes, they ran in silence.
Watching from either side of the road, people stood on their balconies waving, some calling encouragement. Looking straight ahead, she saw no one. This was her race.
They passed the New Farm dog park, a place she often stood at the gate and watched, but not once did she even glance that way.
“The Powerhouse is just up front Mum. You’ve almost done it.”
With the back of her hand, she wiped her nose.
“Look Mum, up ahead; it’s only about three hundred metres. You’re nearly there. Just keep lifting your feet. Keep going. Keep breathing.” They entered New Farm Park and on the ring road, flanked by one hundred year old Jacaranda trees, they began towards the finish line. “Look we’re almost there. It’s just up ahead.”
But her voice was panicky, “Where, I can’t see it?”
“You will in a minute.” Sam pointed. “See that big banner.”
“That’s still a long way.”
“No
