The Flamingo Diaries
Lisa says goals have kept her on track
Ihad just turned 13 when I visited my new high school for an induction day, wearing a dress so short I constantly had to tug it down. My micro-mini wasn’t a sign of teenage rebellion but, rather, of a thrifty mum who refused to buy me a new uniform after my growth spurt. Touring the manicured sports fields filled me with dread, but the magnificent buildings had the opposite effect, especially the prefects’ room. As I stood on the threshold of that room, I vowed that, in four years’ time, I would be a prefect. I kept that dream burning bright: I studied like a super-nerd, I stayed late after concerts to put away chairs, I cleaned out the basement so we could create a ghost train for the spring fair and I sang my heart out in the choir. I did almost everything I could to show my unwavering commitment to Pretoria Girls High. Just about the only thing I didn’t do was play sport.
My mum – full of contrition after a teacher friend of hers had remarked that she was looking forward to seeing me at the school next year, though perhaps wearing a longer dress – had spoken to the gym teachers to explain that my lack of sporting talent wasn’t because I was a moody teen. ‘She really can’t run any faster,’ she told them, ‘and she can’t hit a ball. Please be gentle with her.’
After four years, I had tears in my eyes as I stumbled on to the stage to accept my prefect badge from Miss Mullins, our formidable headmistress.
Becoming a prefect didn’t just mean I got to sit on comfy chairs at break; it taught me an invaluable life lesson: if you set goals, no matter how far ahead, they’re likely to become a reality. I applied this principle to my first marathon back in 1999 and, sure enough, after I got my entry, the training almost took care of itself. The 56-mile Comrades Marathon was the same story: a daunting distance I suspected was impossible became possible the moment I made it a goal. And so did my ambition to join the 100 Marathon Club.
It’s a lesson I’ve put to good use post-lockdown. I’m told we had two paths we could go down during the pandemic: turn to lard, or go hard. After an initial period, when I made the most of every second of our daily permitted exercise slot, I succumbed to the lure of Netflix and chilled wine at an ever-earlier hour, and became a fully paid-up member of the 5K to Couch Club.
When my wedding ring became too tight to wear, I knew things had to change, so I set myself several goals. First, I rounded up five friends to do a virtual 1,585.5-mile beer run, taking in Oregon’s best breweries; then I signed up for a virtual tour of the ancient pilgrimage route of Camino de Santiago. Both promised even bigger medals than my prefect’s badge, so I knew they’d motivate me.
Finally, I moved from Croydon, my home of 27 years, to Worthing. Another goal is to run until I’m 90, and running by the sea makes my spirits soar, so I know the next four decades of running are in the bag. I’ve already scoped out a local running club, the Foxy Ladies Running Club, whose motto is ‘sweat like a pig to look like a fox!’ As I bid farewell to the baby foxes who frolic in my Croydon garden, I’m filled with excitement at the thought of what’s to come and the new goals I’ll be setting – and reaching – in the years ahead.