I was never good at sport. I'm thinking that part of that was, if you didn't show remarkable natural ability in high school, you were cast side.

In my last year in high school I discovered badminton. I wouldn't say I was a natural, but I was playing with people who had been shafted in most sport, so it was a little easier to cream to the top.

I loved it, came to Australia where it was fashionable, and kept playing.

Then I got married. My husband didn't play badminton, but he was fabulous squash player, played tennis like a pro, and I was little old me, not doing much at all.

Then he took up running.

By this time we had a child and I had visions of his getting caught up in running while I morphed into a seriously out-of-shape human.

I couldn't allow that to happen, so I invested in running shoes, determined that this was a sport I'd be good at.

Ha! I couldn't even run downhill, and I was ashamed of how unfit I was.

Then I committed (mentally) to running every day, even if it was a run ten steps, walk ten steps effort.

I committed to that.

Within two weeks I was at least running all the way downhill, after which Id' determinedly walk fewer steps, and within a short period I was running one km around my home.

Soon I was running 5km, daily, after which I took on every fun run I could find.

Then we went to live on Bougainville Island in PNG where I met a group of Harriers. I joined them and found out there was a marathon happening in a few months time.

I expressed interest in running it, but was told I'd never be fit enough.

Red rag to a bull.

I mentally committed to it, ran every day before work, and quietly registered to run.

There were only ten women in the race, and three were considered for places.

I wasn't one of the three, but I did come third.

I wasn't sure what I was most proud of...running the marathon, or rising above an expectation.