I feel as though we have reached the
40th kilometre.
For those of you who have not taken
part in the 42 kilometre stretch that is a marathon, I will explain. Hitting
the 40th kilometre in a marathon, to me, has always been an elusive
place. It is a milestone where almost all the work has been done, except for a
few measly negotiable kilometres that stand between you and the finish line. It is only a short distance that is keeping
you from crossing the line and entering into that amazing, hard to reproduce
feeling of exhaustion mixed with gratitude; the feeling that you can finally
relax after months of hard work and sacrifice.
There are always lots of people around
for support and encouragement at the 40th kilometre; they are
exactly the kind of people you wished had been there around the deserted and
unexciting 35th kilometre when you actually needed the encouragement. Most are
suddenly eager to be involved, screaming things like “you’re almost there”
(even though you still have some distance to cover), or, my personal favourite;
“only one more hill to climb!” (When in fact there were 4 substantial inclines
ahead). For a spectator, this is the part where things get exciting.
People do not run marathons because
they are fun, or at least I don’t. They run them for the challenge, for the
competition with themselves, the amazing adventures running can take you on,
and for the undeniable feeling of self-accomplishment that you feel when
crossing the finish line. People don’t move across the world because it is fun either.
Okay, the end result, much like the marathon, is fun. But the process of moving
across the world, that is the real marathon.
And so I find us now, at the 40th
kilometre of our own 2011/12 International Relocation Marathon. Our kilometres
have brought us through mountains of paperwork, stressful disappointments,
exciting developments, tough decisions, sad goodbyes and happy reunions.
Through it we have been fuelled by faith, hope, excitement, and deep sense of
adventure. With each passing kilometre we have checked off so many significant
pieces to the puzzle: selling the house, finding a job, visa applications,
transporting Huff, finding a place to live, etc, etc etc. Now we wait for just on more check on the
list: A licence to practise physiotherapy.
I won’t go into the boring details of
the months of stress and hard work that obtaining a physiotherapy licence has
taken me. Or, that my planning and my reality of this process have come to be
an ironically stark contrast. Either way, I wait for the Board to finish their
assessment, hopefully only for a week or so more, but no promises.
Let me explain. My job as a
physiotherapist has allowed us to apply for a work sponsored visa in NZ.
However, without a licence to practise in NZ, I cannot legally work as a
physiotherapist, or be granted the work visa that has been approved on the
basis of licencing. It is a vicious circle, which is until now, is the only
thing keeping us from relaxing on the finish line.
And so we wait.
Until then, the 40th kilometre
has brought us to a beautiful coastal beach town on the south western coast of
the North Island, called Paraparaumu Beach. With a total population of 25,000
people, it is a beautiful place located approximately 50km north of Wellington.
We have rented a furnished beach house
on an open ended contract in a quiet neighbourhood about 5 minute walk to the
beach. The house has three bedrooms, and two bathrooms, which is a lot more
space than we need, but the circumstances and price was favourable for a short
term place. The backyard is huge and has a cute little garden and some friendly
resident birds. We also have a lovely neighbourhood cat, which makes her way
into our backyard almost daily for a nap under one of our big shady trees. I am
interested to see if Jingles (my name for her) continues to come around once
Huff is home. The house leaves some aesthetic details to be desired, but we
have cleaned it up and made it our own for the meantime while we wait to find a
more long term place to suit our needs.
Trent doing a training run last Friday on the Beach |
Overall we love it here. My favourite
thing is the beach. The weather does not
exactly scream beach weather, as the North Island is experiencing a rather cool
summer at the moment, but it is perfect for long runs or walks on the
beach. Due to the fact that the tide
comes right up onto the beach, the concept of white sandy beach has been washed
out to sea. What it has left behind is a flat and firm packed down sand, that
is perfect to walk or run on, drive on or play countless games. On top of the terrain, the beach itself
stretches for several kilometres, meaning you can run or walk for quite a long
time before being forced back onto the roads. All factors considered the beach
has been the obvious location of all our training runs since we have arrived. On
top of that, there are sections of the beach designated to dogs, meaning they
can be off leash and play free in the water and sand.
This leads me to mention our darling
Catahoula. It seems she is much closer to the end of her personal marathon. She
will be freed from quarantine this Monday morning with the wound up energy of a
dog who has not been properly exercised for almost 2 weeks. We visited her on
Saturday and she was so excited that she nearly knocked us both over. Overall, she is looking great, well rested
and completely unfazed by the whole airplane experience. The past few days
have been the hardest on us, slowly passing the time until she can come home. Her
homecoming will be another big check on our shortening list.
So, with the cheering friends and family in
place, we cross the 40th kilometre with a sense of faith and hope
for the remaining few strides.
The race clock keeps ticking, and so
do we.