Look after your skin!
Sydney Marathon
In Australia, the mnemonic "Slip, Slop, Slap!" is burned into every child’s brain from an early age. It is drilled into us from television advertisements, radio messages, signs, postcards and any other medium you can think of. It was - and continues to be – a consistent mantra championed to “slip” on sunscreen, “slop” on a shirt, and “slap” anybody who doesn’t listen to you.
Just kidding, you “slap” on a hat.
The impact of climate change over the last sixty years has had a devastating impact to Australia. Over the country sits a giant hole in the "ozone layer", an atmospheric shield that has historically protected us from the bulk of the ultra-violet rays that cannon towards us from the sun. Without such a shield our skin is helpless to quick damage, and the toasting that occurs to us is fast and unforgiving.
According to the Cancer Council, Australia is essentially the skin cancer capital of the world, and it accounts for over 80% of new cases of cancer diagnosed in the county each year. The impact of the sun exposure here, and around the world, is profound.
As an Australian I knew this already. However, as I ran my eighth marathon in the Land Down Under it was, and will forever be, one of the main things I think about spending time outside.
The Postcard City
Chances are you will recognise Sydney even if you have never visited it.
You know that big coathanger-looking bridge across the water? That’s Sydney. You know that weird pointy-roofed white building with triangles all over it? That’s Sydney. It is the most recognisable part of the country, and the one that you have seen on all those postcards.
I was back home for Christmas and so a visit here to chalk up another run was a must-do. This time I had a new challenge: the Aussie summer. The evidence of casualties was all around me: tomato-red skin patches from people coming home from the beach identified anybody who had underestimated the beast’s power.
So, as I prepared myself to run, I layered on the sunscreen and set off from the northern beaches to head into the heart of Australia’s busiest city.
This one was another one of hills, but I was prepared thanks to the time I had in Halifax. It was a gorgeous day from the start, I could see that straight away, but even after an early morning commencement the sun was up and baking the helpless people down below (myself included). I could feel it pulse down upon me as I plundered through the streets towards the city, the sweat stinging my eyes as the cream oozed slowly into it. I was thankful for the headband across my forehead, shielding the worst of it.
Fifteen kilometres in and I hit a dead-end under the Sydney Harbour Bridge. I was so happy to be here, running back in my country of origin again. I paused my watch, took a moment, and absorbed it. I wasn’t racing anybody. I didn’t care about the time. I was racing nobody.
While the hills had done a number on my legs already, I turned back with a spring in my step. Up to this point, I had always been nervous to think there was a chance I couldn’t make it all the way to the end. That doubt was here again today, especially as I cross the 27-kilometre mark, but it was weakening.
I had to do it. I had to.
The last ten kilometres were tough. Up and down the northern beaches of manly, I did laps of the walking path that my grandmother would walk as a younger woman. I still had memories of walking here with here, and I reflected on my grandmother's life when I could. The last few laps required some more bouts of the Waddle, my go-to tactic from Auckland for grinding out kilometres in duress. The hills had, for the second time in a row, made my knees seize uncomfortably, but I was learning how to get through it. As I’d hoped, the previous marathons were helping me get through this one.
As I crunched out the final steps on the boardwalk, I took another moment to soak in the surroundings. Today, I paid particular attention to the people. Those who'd spent abundance in the sun were clear by the tan and weathered skin, and those who did not were also identifiable by the strawberry red stains of the day.
I finished there in the sun, sat down on a bench, and looked out to the Tasman Sea. I looked at my own skin. I had done my best, but even I was a little burnt.
Slip, slop, slap?
I still hadn't done enough.
Reflection
I knew how to protect myself from the worst of the sun in Sydney because of the knowledge I had grown up with. Slip, slop, slap may be the mantra that every Australian knows, but that many still do not.
So, my lesson for this entry is simple: please always wear sunscreen when you go out running, and as the Australians say, slip, slop, slap!
Comments