My childhood house was dilapidated. Cupboards fell off their hinges and taps didn’t work.
Dad would refill his enamel mug from the cask of red wine that lived on top of the fridge, and when Mum bought a packet of Tim Tams, we’d solemnly split it up amongst the five of us.
In winter, the windows would jolt from the southerlies and the light from the lighthouse would beam into my bedroom and keep me company.
In summer, the cicadas would croon and the sheets would stick to my skin and Mum would place a wet towel on my forehead.
When the electricity would go out my parents would light a kerosene lamp and dance on the balcony under the moonlight.
It was a house filled with colour and chaos. Mum cooking, us surfing. I remember exploring and running and a home filled with love and laughter.
But the love and laughter must’ve filled that dilapidated house until it burst; because sometimes love and laughter just isn’t enough, and all good things come to an end.
Their separation would be a putrid brown, completely unpalatable to those who weren’t there, because who can understand a relationship better than the two people in it?
And so, I remember fighting and books being thrown and tears and my parents splitting up.
I felt like I no longer fit in this new place and so where did I go?
I didn’t know so I started running.
I didn’t know where I was running to, but I knew that it helped me manage the feelings rocketing around my body and so I kept running.
That whole time, I kept on running from something until I was 24, and I was caught in a fire and was told I’d never run again.
Running has shaped my life.
That doesn’t mean I enjoy it. I don’t LOVE running.
But I do love (and need) the space it gives me.
It gives me a way to clear my head and confront my fears. It teaches me that I can do hard things. It makes me feel confident. It makes me feel more like myself.
That’s why I do it.
And it’s why I love teaching other women to run too.
I love that RUN with Turia gives other Mums an outlet for themselves and a community to back them. A place to belong and a way to get unstuck.