Today on my morning jog, I noticed there was an oddly large amount of runners in the streets. After asking around, someone told me that today was the Run Melbourne running festival and I had found myself next to the race course. I decided to watch for a while.

My vantage point was unique for it was at the final turn to the finish line. As runners made the turn, they would see the tall banners reading FINISH, and behind this, food and drink stations and volunteers holding stacks of medals. This was usually transformational and runners would grin and pick up the pace. No matter how tired, the sight of the finish line unlocked some last reserves of energy for a final sprint. Watching exhausted runners find a second wind with this final turn brought me much amusement and joy.

As I was about to leave, I noticed an elderly female on the race course. She was limping and breathing heavily and onlookers beside me murmured that she looked unwell. Her pace slowed from walking to hobbling, until she stopped right before the final turn.

“I can’t do this,” she cried, putting her hands to her knees. “It’s over.”

Onlookers and fellow runners stopped to show their support. Some offered her water, some shouted words of affirmation, others asked if she needed an ambulance. One person was already waving a first aid person to come over. None of these methods worked – she would not accept help, nor budge. It seemed like her race was over.

That was, until a middle-aged gentleman came jogging past. Noticing her predicament, and realising the point in the race, he gently led her to the turn, which was only a few steps away, and pointed her to the finish line. “Look how close you are,” he yelled. “You can do it!”

This was the final flame that she needed. Picking herself up, the lady took two shaky steps, then transitioned into a sprint towards the finish line. She never stopped until the end, even passing some runners along the way. I couldn’t see exactly when she crossed the finish line for the sea of runners clouded my view. But in the distance, I could’ve sworn I saw a thin arm punch the air in victory. I never saw her again.

In her moment of distress, most onlookers and runners offered this runner first aid, water, or encouragement. But what the man who saved her understood is that what she truly needed was hope. She was in a broken state, and the sight of the finish line rescued her. Today was a humbling reminder that sometimes what people require in their darkest times is simply hope of something better. Without this, no progress can be made.