Rose

Rose loved to run.

She would break into a sprint every chance she got. Our mother always joked that Rose could only move at two speeds, fast and very fast. She was light on her feet and always drew disbelieving glances and bemused looks from onlookers when she decided walking wasn't going to cut it, something she did almost all the time.

I once asked her why she always ran.

She told me sometimes when the wind was right, she felt like she was flying if she ran fast enough. Truly, there were times you would see her, joyful, arms spread, barefooted, tearing down the street.

She got involved in track and field events when she was still in high school. Choosing to represent her house in the 100metres and 200metres dash. It was almost pandemonium on the sports grounds when she won for the first time. I could see her, standing at the finish line, her face alight and sweaty, enraptured. She represented her house till she graduated.

I never understood how something so simple could give such joy to an individual—such freedom

, such pain.

Every time she ran, she wasn't always greeted by applause or words of validation. Rose often ran to the sound of taunts and jeers from bystanders. You will hurt yourself, they would say. "Make you no go hit pesin one day," they would shout, "Fat pesin no dey run," they would taunt

, because you see, Rose was Obese.

After each of her competitions, She would limp for days. She always complained that most running shoes hurt her feet. She would struggle to catch her breath, gasping for hours. But she didn't let it stop her or even slow her down. Rose kept running. She would run until her shoes got worn, and then she would run some more.

When she entered for the bi-annual Etete race held in Edo state, we all had our misgivings. It was 10 miles of rough terrain and no respite. Rose spent a month looking for the perfect running shoes for someone of her stature. There weren't many options that were not too expensive to consider.

But Rose insisted she could do it.

Even at the starting line, she got the same old taunting looks and mocking laughter, but she didn't seem to notice. She was aglow with excitement.

Rose didn't win the race. She wasn't even in the top 30. But when she crossed the finish line, my heart swelled with pride.

Today, Rose still runs. She runs in the mornings and evenings, and for the rest of the day, runs a successful multi-national business.

Rose taught me that as long as you keep running, nothing can stop you.

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