Marathons Are For Mad People
As I looked at the Kata Tjuta glimmering on the horizon I felt my body melt into a trance. The enormity of where I was and what I was doing was sinking in. My ability to control my spirit had vanished as I allowed the colors and calmness of the land envelope me.
The running pack had dispersed and I was alone. The distant hum of the race helicopter was a brief distraction. The sound of my breathing, and my soft footsteps on the sandy trails send me into a hypnotic trance. Soon I noticed the spinifex on the red earth and it was then that the years that led me to this moment finally hit.
Marathons are for mad people. That’s what I’d always thought. And I didn’t fit in that club. But when the social media bug caught hold of me five years ago I was lured by the excitement the Perth HBF Fun Run offered.
The hash tag #twitfit became the calling for the group of mad runners I
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