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An addiction to the tarmac is like no other

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Dumisane Lubisi at a running event
Dumisane Lubisi at a running event

In mid-September, I stepped on a nail with my right foot while removing the ceiling of my house.

The home has been undergoing some renovations, so I treated the wound and went back to work.

I tried to stay strong and not think about the pain, which wasn’t too hard since the body was working and the mind had been set on the job at hand.

Later that Monday evening I had to make a decision, one which at the time I thought was light, but whose implications turned out to be massive.

I gave up my entry for the Soweto Marathon, which takes place this coming Sunday.

I had run the race in the previous two years – the 21km race in 2017 and the full marathon (42km) last year.

This year I was to run the full marathon again, something I was really looking forward to since I have a personal score to settle with the difficult route.

The entry was snapped up quickly after I posted it on the running team’s group, clearly someone was waiting for a spot.

With the entry gone, I started the healing process.

I stopped running, although it had been a good running year until that bloody nail pierced my foot.

August and September had not been a great month on the tarmac because I had been more concerned about completing the renovations, not running.

I would run whenever I felt like it, missed all group runs, and mostly did what I felt was OK at any particular time.

Eventually, the wound healed and last Sunday I went for my first run since September 4.

It wasn’t going to be a long one, it was painful, my legs were itchy, and my calves were stiff.

But I soldiered on, walking a lot too.

A second run happened on Thursday and it went much better than the first. Other runs will happen in the next few days as I try to get back to the good running days.

However, the thought of missing out on the Soweto Marathon has become a recurring one.

Maybe I shouldn’t have given up my entry so quickly. Maybe I should have continued exercising instead of giving in.

But the milk has already been spilt and there is no way I can run the People’s Race this year.

I can only wait for next year’s edition, and while I wait and start all over again, what I am learning is that running is a serious addiction which has no known cure.

Temporary wounds aren’t enough to put the mind off the sport.

In the meantime, I plan to be at FNB Stadium to watch fellow runners conquer this monster.


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