#WhileIStillCan

My Aunty Steph was a force of nature.

She ran social gatherings, ran towards people to connect, ran marathons.

No seriously, she literally was a marathon runner.

She was a runner who ran life to the full.

In July 2023, we said goodbye to her, our dear Aunty Steph.

We held and wrapped Graham, her husband, and each other, in our arms.

We remembered how she ran, we waved goodbye and cried. And laughed.

In truth, one version might be that we said goodbye to her a few years ago.

Once the dementia took hold, it’s true, the race had changed.

Though I will say that the woman I met a few times when I visited, was still sharing some of her best parts. A big grin, constant story telling, and an insatiable appetite to administer horse bites to my thighs.

But the race had definitely changed.

It was a walk now, especially towards the end.

My sister Maree was prominent with my Mum.

They took her hand, with others.

As she had taken ours for so many years.

And they walked her home.

Of course she wasn’t everyone’s Aunt, but she kinda was because darn, she was good at it.

And I think I thought she was everyone’s Aunty in my young head where vivid pictures form of people who love us.

This is her near her start.

In life and with her man.

With me, my brother, and my special cousin – we were raucous together with her and she loved it – well ok, maybe not the time I sent an ice cream into the roof of her mini.

 

And finishing …

 

 

In that shot where I have the tea cozy on my head, because she wanted it there, notice her left hand perilously close to my thigh!

And you can’t see the medal in the last shot, but it’s there. Every single one.

I’m 50 in four months and I’m going to run a marathon.

It’s my first.

It’s for her.

It’s for me.

Maybe it’s for you?

This decision came to me as an invitation and an imperative.

I couldn’t walk her home but I can walk with her still.

Run with her even.

And I decided to do something more to honour her and those left behind.

I’ll admit it feels a little crazy to run a marathon at 50 and call it a birthday present.

And it feels kinda great too.

Because it feels full of life and something I can do, while I still can.

I lost my Dad, Aunty Steph’s eldest brother, when I was 14.

He was 41.

As I turn 50, part of my reflection when I farewelled Steph centred around all she did and then all my Dad did while they were alive.

While they still could.

My Dad was a force of nature too whose touch was mighty, as it was loving.

His time was brief compared with the averages, yet he chose to live in a way that said emphatically…

I’m going to live this way “While I still can”.

Brother and sister alike, both he and Aunty Steph lived with intent and I’m inspired by the trail they blazed.

Their fame wasn’t the brand of global acclaim, but instead a claim of the hearts of those close to them.

And so I try to follow their path. The trail their steps left behind, to choose my own intent.

And that intent is to run, the 42 kilometres, as Steph did so many times, and to share the story of getting my body and mind to a place that is capable of this.

I share it in honour of her memory, in love of those of us left behind, and for anyone that it might help…

While I still can.

Maybe you have your own ‘While I still can’ that you’re doing already.

Maybe you’ve found yourself, as you read this, one that’s been sitting there for a while like this was for me, or considering what you might choose to do while you still can.

It doesn’t have to be running, heli-skiing, or chainsaw juggling (though please do share footage if it’s that last one)

It might be starting that blog, visiting that neighbour, or reconciling with that person.

Whatever it is, part of the idea of sharing what I’m doing is to give you the chance to share yours.

I’m doing that bit because people told me to, the more I shared this idea with them.

So that’s it. That’s all. It’s simple. Well the concept bit, not sure about the running bit.

If you have a #whileistillcan and want to join in, please do sign up , share about it, and comment on some others – we do it better together.

Oh and a huge thanks so much to friends helping me with this… in our spare time… when I’m not running… special mention to Pete, founder and owner of Simple Pixels and one of the kindest blokes I know.