Modern Athlete Magazine Issue 128, March 2020 | Page 22

ROAD RUNNING
walked around with watches that could monitor their
heart while using satellites to calculate exactly where
they were and how far they had run. The clothes
they were showcasing was seemingly space age
and far removed from the old rags that I had on, and
suddenly I felt so out of place that I feared I may end
up finishing last, or very close to it.
I had never run further than four kilometres at any one
time, and here I had the audacity to take on these
technologically advanced beings all around me? “Well
you’re here, mate, no turning back now!” I heard my
own voice admonishing me, and I looked around,
startled, hoping that I didn’t say it out loud.
The announcer called us all to the start and I found
myself swept up in a mass of humanity, readying for
‘war.’ I felt the butterflies in my tummy and a rush of
adrenaline making me shiver with anticipation. All the
feelings of inadequacy were forgotten as we were
herded into the starting shoot by race officials, and as
soon as I heard the crack of the starter’s pistol, I felt
the surge of the mob as we all rushed forward as one.
The race was on.
Finishing the 2018 Two Oceans with his youngest son
as we ran past the Sea Point swimming pools. I was
holding on, and I kept pushing myself forward.
I was enjoying the pain I was in, the same way I used
to enjoy the pain during many of my fistfights in the
years before. Now here I was, fighting myself, pushing
past limits I previously thought of as impossible
to go beyond. I looked around me and there were
people along the street, cheering my every step
and urging me forward. They wanted me to finish,
and they wanted me to run strong, to give my all.
In my exhaustion, I felt a peace I had never known
before, and I felt nothing but love for these strangers
smiling at me and cheering for me. I felt wanted
and appreciated, and in that moment I was home,
because I was a runner and this was my happy place.
The last kilometre of the race felt like an eternity, I just
wanted to stop and walk, but I pushed on. I was doing
this for me and my children, I was doing this to give
that better man hiding somewhere inside me a release
from his captivity. When I saw the finish, I put in a
surge and I felt a joy I had never known as I crossed
the line. Something inside me had changed in those
10 kilometres I had just run, and I felt more in tune
with my soul than ever before.
How different my life was prior to that moment in Sea
Point. For far too long I had found myself stuck in
darkness, filled with nothing but despair, in a place of
gangs, drugs and alcohol, filled with violence and no
hope. I had become nothing more than an ‘oxygen
thief,’ somebody who spent their days wasting away
doing just enough for the next time they could get
high or drunk.
22
PJ Moses, reformed
I got into fights to satisfy the beast within me, not
gangster, ultra-
stopping until there was blood flowing from the one
marathoner,
running writer
ISSUE 128 MARCH 2020 / www.modernathlete.co.za
who offended my thug sensibilities. My nose looked
like Rocky’s at the end of his many battles with Apollo
Creed in the famous movies, and I had scars all over
from the knife wounds over the years. My skull still had
some glass embedded in it from bottles people broke
over my head, and my front teeth were missing. The
streets were where I felt most comfortable, and being
drunk or high helped me deal with the fact that I knew
the lifestyle I was living was not a sustainable one.
Then running found me, and I slowly started to
transform into the man my family always thought I
could be, and my kids needed me to be. Now here I
found myself jumping into the unknown, but I knew
there was no other way. I knew that my previous life
had no upside to it, and that I would either end up in
prison, dead or an alcoholic and drug-addicted junkie
that was no good to anybody.
I decided I wanted to live a better life, not in terms of
material gain, but a more fulfilling spiritual existence
and a more useful one. I knew it would not be easy,
that I would face ridicule from friends and strangers. I
would have to sacrifice and change many of my ways.
I would have to fight without using my fists, and I
would have to keep going when I felt that I couldn’t do
it anymore. Was I ready for the change? I didn’t know,
and that scared me, but I knew there was only one
real decision to make if I wanted to be a better man.
I decided to run. The destination was never the goal,
the journey was always more important. And this part
of the journey taught me that there is always hope
in the darkness, that you should live to be a better
version of yourself tomorrow, better than the person
you were today.
The pace at the start of that race was frenetic, and I
got caught up in the mass stampede of fleet-footed
humans. I had no strategy, I only had one goal and
that was to run, and run hard. Soon my lungs felt like
somebody had thrown petrol on them and set them
alight, and my throat was as dry as the Kalahari. But
I felt alive, even though my legs were protesting with
every step I took down Beach Road, gathering pace