Long-distance runner John Stephen
Akhwari represented Tanzania in the 1968 Summer Olympics in Mexico City with an
unforgettable performance in the marathon. He did not set a new world record.
He did not even earn a medal. In fact, by the time he crossed the finish line,
the sun had set, the winner had been crowned over an hour earlier, and most of
the fans had left the stadium. But Akhwari’s performance still inspires to this
day.
Earlier in the race, while jockeying with other runners for position, Akhwari was knocked to the ground, badly injuring his knee and shoulder. He had every reason to pull out just as 18 of the 75 other athletes did by the time the race was over. But “a voice called from within to go on, and so he went on.”
A cheer rose up from the small crowd that welcomed Akhwari as he limped across the finish line in last place, the makeshift bandage on his knee flapping in the wind. He was fatigued, cramping, dehydrated, and disoriented, but he had finished. When asked why he would continue running a race he knew he had already lost, Akhwari replied, “My country did not send me 5,000 miles to start the race. They sent me 5,000 miles to finish the race.”
John Stephen Akhwari was able to endure because he had a clear vision of his purpose. His decision to finish the race did not come after his devastating fall; enduring to the end was a decision he made long before he was injured, long before he left Tanzania. He trained to be a finisher, not just a participant, and so he kept going.
In the decades since that summer evening in 1968, John Stephen Akhwari’s words and example continue to inspire countless athletes—and many others who have a challenging race to run. His story teaches us that sometimes winning simply means finishing. It teaches us that we can make it through life’s rough spots one step, one day, at a time. It teaches us to decide now that we will endure with courage and honour to the end of life’s marathon.
Earlier in the race, while jockeying with other runners for position, Akhwari was knocked to the ground, badly injuring his knee and shoulder. He had every reason to pull out just as 18 of the 75 other athletes did by the time the race was over. But “a voice called from within to go on, and so he went on.”
A cheer rose up from the small crowd that welcomed Akhwari as he limped across the finish line in last place, the makeshift bandage on his knee flapping in the wind. He was fatigued, cramping, dehydrated, and disoriented, but he had finished. When asked why he would continue running a race he knew he had already lost, Akhwari replied, “My country did not send me 5,000 miles to start the race. They sent me 5,000 miles to finish the race.”
John Stephen Akhwari was able to endure because he had a clear vision of his purpose. His decision to finish the race did not come after his devastating fall; enduring to the end was a decision he made long before he was injured, long before he left Tanzania. He trained to be a finisher, not just a participant, and so he kept going.
In the decades since that summer evening in 1968, John Stephen Akhwari’s words and example continue to inspire countless athletes—and many others who have a challenging race to run. His story teaches us that sometimes winning simply means finishing. It teaches us that we can make it through life’s rough spots one step, one day, at a time. It teaches us to decide now that we will endure with courage and honour to the end of life’s marathon.
