I wheezed as I paused to regain my breath and slow my pounding heart. This had to be one of the worst ideas I had ever come up with yet I couldn’t help myself, I had to keep going. I had committed to running to the top of that peak come heatstroke or heart attack and I kept jogging painfully onwards. The sweat poured off me as the unseasonal heat surrounded me with its thick blanket of salted coastal air. A light breeze brought much needed relief when I rounded the next hillside bend and was faced with high peaks in all directions, each covered in proteas lolling in the sunshine. Everything about South African nature was full of colour, vibrancy and a feeling of life continuing onwards joyfully.
My head sank towards the ground as my feet passed over burnt orange rocks and the dry, hot sand that shimmered with heat. As I stumbled amongst those peaks and caught my fall with my hands I willed myself to go on. I urged myself to look up, to look around me and admire the lizards that were skittering across my path in the distance; their black skin reflecting the midday sun. There was so much life up there and I had no idea. I had spent my year jogging along the beach admiring the peaks and assuming I would never make it that far. I was no athlete, no hero of the running world and plodded slowly each day in a vague attempt to keep fit. But then one day I looked up from the beach and donned my mental superhero pants. I told myself I may not be an exceptional runner, I may jiggle like a jelly when I jog but that peak would be mine. I would run, walk and crawl every step with tears in my eyes if I had to but I would do it. I chose that peak as a way to become the best of me that day. A way to believe in myself, push my limits and find my gratitude for who I was; flaws and all.
I remembered my training runs up the lower path that nestled amongst oak trees and how it turned into a crumbling stone wall that marked the first ascent. As I teetered and jogged up that wall I had felt a true sense of adventure, of pushing myself to my limits and finding my inner self-belief. I had however also felt like I was going to die. That old training path lay far below me now and I ran on. As I passed over a sandy section of path and climbed unsteadily up a dry streambed I caught a glimpse of the view for the first time. There was the merest hint of a bright blue, glistening ocean far below me. The sounds of traffic in the town below had long since faded away and there was an ocean ahead of me to admire. It drove me on as I picked up my feet again, tried to control my aching chest and felt a deep sense of gratitude that my legs and spirit had carried me this far.
I saw the aerial ahead of me that marked the top of the peak, the only reminded of human life I saw that day, and knew the view would be spectacular across False Bay and the Atlantic coast behind me. I pushed on past butterflies and bees and listened to nature as I tried to distract myself with my thoughts. I didn’t dare stop to admire the passing scenery but I briefly glanced over my shoulder. I saw the Atlantic on the other side of the mountainous peninsula and almost laughed in relief and disbelief. I was so close to the top. I stared at my feet for the final the steep ascent and willed myself to keep going, to hold the spirit of adventure within me. I practically crawled to the base of the aerial and beamed with happiness and exhaustion as I climbed up the last few rocks that marked the very top of the peak.
I just stood, alone on what felt like the top of the world. There was not a soul in sight and it was astounding. I was surrounded by ocean, white sand beaches, the rugged line of the coast and a deep peace enveloped me. I had done it. I had become my own hero and felt truly, utterly thankful.
About the Author: Kathryn is a passionate marine conservationist, freelance writer and blogger. She is using her voice one day at a time to inspire others to explore, travel and create a better future for the oceans and sharks.
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