When I was 9 years old, I was in a school where taking part in Athletics (Track & Field) was compulsory. So I went to training as was required. At our house meeting, I took part in my first 800m. I finished second, but felt so good about the run and wanted to do it again.
At the next meeting, two weeks later, I took part in the 800m again. And the next meeting. I finished second in every race. At the Pietermaritzburg and Districts meeting I ran and finished last. But the running bug had bit me and I wasn’t about to give up.
The next year (1989), my mom told me to take part in landsdiens and when I heard the word landloop (cross-country) on the intercom, I thought that was what she meant and went to the meeting. I loved training.. the coach was fun and she kept the training sessions interesting. I never got bored.
My first cross-country race took place at Crystal Springs near Kokstad (South Africa). My mom came to watch. I was incredibly nervous and afraid of the run, so to calm me down, she started braiding two pigtails down the sides of my head. She was just starting to do the second one, when my coach came up to us, looking a little confused and surprised to see me there. I had missed the start of my race!
I rushed off to catch up with the rest of the runner and didn’t slow down. I had so much adrenalin rushing through me that I didn’t feel a thing – not even when I lost a shoe in the mud on the course.
By the time I reached the end, I was exhausted. I finished and a marshal came to give me a place disk. My face morphed into one big smile. I had won the race, even though I started a minute behind the field! For days after my parents and coach teased me, but that was the last and only time I missed the start of a race.
That season was what planted my love for running firmly in me forever.
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