Felix Desmarais (left) with his sister Rebecca. Photo / Supplied
OPINION:
I don't look like a runner.
At 32 and five foot five, my legs are unlikely to grow any longer.
I'm no lean and lithe Michael Voss-type.
School cross country was the worst day of the year. As a child, my doctor thought I had exercise-induced asthma because I'd get about 100m off the start line and couldn't breathe.
I think it was just panic attacks closing up my throat.
It felt like there was so much pressure and judgment about body types and fitness associated with running back then, rather than something to be embraced and enjoyed.
So it's come as a bit of a surprise to some of my friends and family that since moving to Rotorua at the end of 2019, I've become a runner.
My first run was three kilometres. I ran - slowly - for one minute, then walked for one minute.
I didn't wreck myself each time, I just gradually built up my fitness.
Using fitness watches, I watched my resting heart rate slide from 80-odd bpm to 60.
When I finished my first continuous 5km run, I teared up a little. Maybe I wasn't a runner, but I was running. I became someone I never thought I would, or could be.
That 5k turned into my first 10k at the 2020 Rotorua Marathon. Then, a couple of weeks ago, my first half marathon at the 2021 Rotorua Marathon.
Perhaps buoyed too much by my new-found running identity, I signed my sister and I up for the Summerhill Skedaddle in Tauranga last weekend.
It's a foolhardy event at the best of times, let alone a week after your first half marathon.
A completely self-supported event run by volunteers to raise money for the Summerhill Trust, it follows a 5k loop that's usually traversed by mountain bikers.
Mountain biking - y'know, gnarly, narrow bush tracks, pockmarked with obstacles. Mountain biking, which requires gravity... meaning steep uphills and vertiginous downhills.
The aim of the Skedaddle is to run the loop as many times as you can for six hours.
My sister Rebecca is seven years older than me but she is an athlete type. She's been a rower, a triathlete. She's a natural (unless it's ball sports, then as a baby brother I have to say - it's quite funny).
We thought we better justify the ridiculous challenge and make it worthwhile for a charity.
We chose Rainbow Youth, an organisation established in 1989. Their mission is to provide support, information, resources and advocacy for queer, gender diverse, takatāpui and intersex young people.
As a journalist, I've covered many stories about challenges some queer people face just because of who they are or who they love.
Gender and sexuality is not political. It's not a choice. It's something you can't control.
That's something I know as a queer person myself. Sometimes I wish it were as easy as deciding, but it's simply not.
The only decision I ever made was to accept myself as I am.
That wasn't always the case. When I was younger, it wasn't just running that I felt on the outside of. I knew there was something outside the mould about me, and that I dare not think about it, let alone articulate it. Or god forbid, be proud of it.
I learned the way the world sees queer people and regurgitated it - I was homophobic and transphobic to myself and about others. The world taught me how to internalise the bullying and repeat it ad infinitum in my own head.
That loop track threatened my life in later years.
Groups like Rainbow Youth are working to prevent that harm we do to ourselves and others and I'm so grateful for it. I'm so hopeful for the kids today who are like me but won't hate themselves. They will know they are just as deserving of love and respect as anyone.
I ran for just eight kilometres before I had to stop, old knee injuries threatening to strand me mid-course. But my sister, who has always been my ally, had my back and ran four of our six-ish laps. Some people ran 10 laps.
Our friends and family - even some acquaintances and strangers - chipped in to support our mad quest and so far we've raised $1347 for Rainbow Youth.
Friday was Pink Shirt Day, a movement which began in 2007 in Canada as a stand against homophobic bullying. I like to think we're becoming a more accepting world, but there's still a long way to go.
It might have been hard out there on the trail, but it's nothing compared to some of the bigotry faced by rainbow young people, and I'd happily sacrifice these old(ish) queer knees for their wellbeing again.
* You can still donate to support Rebecca and Felix's skedaddle for Rainbow Youth HERE.
WHERE TO GET HELP
• Lifeline: 0800 543 354 (available 24/7)
• Suicide Crisis Helpline: 0508 828 865 (0508 TAUTOKO) (available 24/7)
• Youth services: (06) 3555 906
• Youthline: 0800 376 633
• Kidsline: 0800 543 754 (available 24/7)
• Whatsup: 0800 942 8787 (1pm to 11pm)
• Depression helpline: 0800 111 757 (available 24/7)
• Rainbow Youth: (09) 376 4155
• Helpline: 1737
If it is an emergency and you feel like you or someone else is at risk, call 111
An inspiring, astonishing adventure, including being mistaken for missing Marokopa family.
