Run Where There Are No Paths 3



Photo credit Greg Raines 

It was a Sunday afternoon in the middle of July but the sun was bright, my perfect kind of winter day.

We stood at the bottom of the ranges; pug Brixton in one hand, husband’s hand in the other.

We started to walk and climb a little, every now and then pushing bushes out of our path.

At the time I was having a really hard time at work, so it’s likely he was listening to me ferret on about what a well-educated, highly-regarded, insecure tragedy my life was.

Distracted by what I’m confident was another enthralling conversation for him for the 49th time, we realised there was a little less path and a lot more bush going on, until there was no path at all.

Running ahead, I pushed through bushes and climbed cliff faces (or something to that dramatic effect).

Every so often my bellow of fear that Brixton had fallen off a cliff ahead somewhere echoed through the trees.

Losing my confidence, seeing some vague sign of life up ahead, fastening on my brave again.

Climbing, running, sweating.

Until, as if it appeared out of nowhere, we made it back to the well-worn path.

Sometimes along the way we get a little unsure of ourselves, a little lost, often for completely irrational meanderings we’ve convinced ourselves of.

And insecurity is exhausting.

It cages us, the good with the bad.

We can become so fragile, so focussed on our internal world, that we forget to focus on what is ahead.

Obsessed with who we are not, not who we are.

Directed by why we can’t, not why we can.

Focussed on what we are, not what we could be.

Somewhere along 2016, you may have become a little unsure of yourself and a little lost.

If you’re a husband/wife/daughter/son/friend of this person, keep listening to the same conversation 7x7x7x7 times if you have to. Don’t let them run in the dark alone. They’ll thank you later.

If you are this person, it’s time to fasten on your brave, and run where there are no paths.

The well-worn path will be waiting for you. I promise.


Dedicated to my husband Lance and Step-Mum, Tisha. Thank you for not letting me run in the dark alone.

About Karina Chicote

Karina Chicote is a strategic leader for an international child’s rights organisation and writer and presenter on radio for Kin Women. She has a Master’s Degree in Human Rights and has designed and led award-winning programs for Aboriginal children and young people. Karina has worked across the globe on campaigns in London, asylum seeker centres in Papua New Guinea, the UN General Assembly in New York and now leads strategic projects across Western Australia. Karina was a finalist for the WA Youth Work Awards in 2015 and 2016, recognising her leadership and commitment to creating change for the most vulnerable young people in our communities. Above all Karina is a wife to Lance and lover of their Pug Brixton, who amidst the seriousness of changing the world make her laugh, a lot.

3 thoughts on “Run Where There Are No Paths

  • Elaine Fraser

    Great Karina. I loved the way you’ve written this post. It’s dramatic and has twists and turns and then-bam! You hit us with the idea of walking together through life. Such a great way to enter 2017.

    Listen to each other, over and over.

    Thanks for sharing! Xxx

  • Zeb Russell

    Nice one K. There were some obscured paths resulting in scratched and bites. There were deep dark gorges than required awkward bombies instead of graceful dives. There were trying times for loved ones as well as self – 2016 asked a lot. Threw up many challenges. And yet, here we are, back on the beaten path – a little less anxious about wandering into unknown territory. ❤️

  • Hayley Solich

    Love the analogy..the succinct style of your writing, Karina. I so get it. I think perhaps we are kindred sisters, cause this is my message to the women in my #FatGirlsCanDance community I am currently building. Together we are powerful. That we do face much adversity in life, but we can come through it, better, braver, stronger. So thank you for sharing your experience.

    And by the way, it’s a heart-stopping kind of moment when you think you are lost. Could so relate to that panic feeling. But it’s a much worse feeling when you are lost in your own head.


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