Running to help turn the tide for young women
We in SA are capable of reaching our goals of justice and freedom
THREE years ago, I was dragging my feet on a treadmill looking around at everyone at the gym, just as bored as I was, sweating in our own personal puddles, going nowhere slowly. I was done with indoor exercise and decided to hit the road. After all, Johannesburg has near-perfect running weather and I always felt inspired watching runners making their way through the avenues of trees.
That evening, I downloaded “Couch-to-5km” training programme. It looked easy enough but, after running for a minute on day one, it felt as though my heart was beating right out of my chest! I somehow persevered.
Imagine my joy when I ran my first kilometre and then eight weeks later, my first 5km. I continued to train in and around the hilly areas neighbouring my home. I had to walk the hills for four months before I could run them. By the end of the year, I was running between 10km and 15km at a time.
I visited Cape Town the following March, and my uncle offered me his Two Oceans Half Marathon entry as a substitute. That close to the race, it’s nearly impossible to get an entry and substitute numbers are like blue diamonds! I couldn’t refuse, it was game on!
Race day was absolutely electric, filled with innumerable special moments. The day started with my sister and niece, who are not early risers, graciously and without grumpiness, waking me up at 3.30am. They indulged all my nervous chatter, walking me all the way to the start, all the while assuring me that the marathon was in the bag.
The multiplicity of runners was truly striking. The race has grown from an all-white, almost allmale 8 000-runner race when it started in 1970, to a very diverse marathon, with double the runners, of which more than half are women.
The nerves before the race synapsed fellow runners into a strong sense of solidarity, which calmed my fast-beating heart. Just before the starting gun, a group of Muslim women runners performed Fajr (sunrise) Salah right there at the start line. In that moment, I celebrated the fact that we live in a country where diversity is not only a theoretical possibility.
As a Muslim who gets to travel often, I know this is not the case in many places around the world today. As the race was about to start, our national anthem reverberated around the starting pen. I felt emotional as we all belted out
and I really craved a roaring Amandla at the end. The gun made me jump, a deep breath, a Bismillah and off we went!
The road was so packed for the first kilometre, that it was impossible to set off on a proper running pace. But that soon changed at Wynberg Hill where the crowd starts thinning out as the gradient steepens. That damn hill is torturous – it deceptively suggests the crest, only to reveal yet another higher point. Downhill on the M3 was pure bliss, with my calves singing songs of lactic joy.
Throughout the race I was tempted to look back and assess where I found myself in the pack. But, instead, I followed good advice and focused on the road ahead. It did not matter where I was – I was running my best race and didn’t look back once.
Then came the mother of all hills – the Southern Cross. I was filled with gratitude for the crowd-lined streets alive with cheer: drum-beating women; people flying flags and clapping hands; while UCT students blasted house music. With our names printed on our race numbers, crowds called out our names, “Go Fatima, you can do it! You’re almost there!” Although a ruse, this made me feel like everyone was there especially to cheer me along.
My biggest fear was not being fast enough to make the cut-off. But once we passed Kirstenbosch’s top gate, I did my mental sums and figured I would make it, not by a massive margin, nor by a nail-biting finish. From then on, with about 6km to go, the race was pure joy – mostly downhill. I wasn’t running particularly fast but, in my head, I was striding elegantly and effortlessly like a professional long-distance runner. I was even cocky enough to cheer on others, “Come, come on my sister, we’re almost there!”
Few joys in my life have come closer than entering the UCT rugby field knowing I had made it! I must have looked ridiculous with that wide sweaty smile sported from ear to ear.
I know running 21.5km may not be a big deal to most people, but it’s not about going the distance, it’s about reaching a goal that changes our perception of what we are capable of. Tomorrow I’m running for a different goal – #Run4Rights. This year Action Aid South Africa (AASA) brought together a team of incredible, diverse people to help raise funds for our women’s rights work across the country. On Saturday, team AASA will run the Two Oceans Half Marathon to help turn the tide for young South African women. May this year’s marathon, again, synapse solidarity among South Africans, out from division and confrontation, into mobilisation for a continued and collective struggle for equal rights, justice and freedom in our land. We, South Africans, are most certainly capable of reaching this goal. Amandla!
PS: I have not yet reached my fundraising goal – help a sister out and sponsor my race: visit www.actionaid.org/south-africa/run4rightsturning-tide-young-women