Tragically, blind veteran Comrades runner Richard Monisi was killed in a hit-and-run accident on Saturday 10 June.

This is a heartfelt tribute to a brave, humble and inspiring man, written by those who knew him.

Monica Childs, Close Friend

On 14 June 2017 we said a very sad farewell to an exceptional man. The outpouring of grief from thousands of people, all over the country, is testament to how much Richard Monisi inspired so many.

I met Richard over 10 years ago. He was working at Services For The Blind, the institution that packed goodie bags for the events I put on in Gauteng.

He was wearing a Comrades T-shirt, and he made a huge impression on me. I realised, right then, that I could make a positive contribution to his passion for running.

Not being a runner myself, I had no idea what a talented athlete he was. For me, the most outstanding thing about Richard was his absolute love of life. He was the happiest person that I have ever met.

People gravitated towards Richard. He was a humble, graceful, kind, giving, grateful, funny and clever man. A real class act!

His impact on the greater running community has been exceptional. He was a very easy person to love, and I loved him dearly.

Hamba kahle, my friend. You are now running free.

Jess Nicholson, Journalist

On the evening of Richard Monisi’s funeral, I asked my son if he would come for a run with me.

“But it’s dark,” he protested.

“What are you afraid of?” I asked.

“Snakes, strange people, muggers, tripping, cars not seeing me, and getting lost,” he replied.

I said: “Let’s go anyway. It’ll be fine. It will be awesome. You’ll see.”

At the start of Richard’s last run, he was also scared; although he didn’t show it easily. Standing among 17 000 people, waiting to run 87 kilometres, is nerve-wracking for anyone – even more so if you can’t see.

I stood nearby. At one point, while we waited for the cock to crow, Richard and his ‘eyes’ for the race, Andrew Hall, lost each other. As the eager crowd lurched forward towards the starting line, he moved with them, anxiously holding his cane high in the air. I saw the relief flood his face as he and Andrew found each other, reconnected, and attached themselves together with a strap.

The announcer warned runners about the hazards of running in the dark, urging them to look out for cat’s eyes and potholes. Then, the rousing singing began.

“The start is the worst,” he’d said to me the day before, as we guided each other through the Comrades expo.

I was struck by his gentle demeanour; he was calm and patient as we navigated the crowds.

“So many people, and the noise and the nerves…” He shook his head.

“Florence (Munyai, Monisi’s long-term running partner) ran with me last year for the first 10km. I waved my cane in front of us, and we shouted, ‘Blind man coming!’ I’m faster than Florence, and so I ran ahead, alone. I fell four times, I sometimes went the wrong way – but then, people helped me.”

Florence explained that she had seen how much he loved running, and offered to be his running partner. They trained together every morning, between 3am and 6am. They ran their 13^th Comrades in 2017.

Over the years, runners who knew Richard warned his guides: “If you’re guiding this man, you must watch out. You’ll hit the wall. He runs fast.”

Richard and Andrew set off. I followed them. They looked good at Camperdown. They fell once, when a pothole tripped Richard up. They entered the stadium after eight and a half hours, and I bashed the sides of the scaffolding and shouted my loudest for their triumph.

I wanted big announcements and prizes and extra congratulations when they crossed the finish line. But Richard didn’t want this.

“Being blind doesn’t matter,” he said. “Years ago, I met a man called Gerald Fox. I had no money, and I was busking and singing at a shopping mall. He told me I had an athlete’s physique. He said I could have a future as a runner. I didn’t believe him. So, he taught me how to run. ‘You can run’, he said.

“I started to see myself in a different way. Not as a disabled person. I can run alone. I will go. I will run until I die.”

When a car smacked into Richard as he strolled to the mall with a friend, ending his life, he was unemployed, and his family was relying on government grants to see them through each month. Over the years he received financial help; but often he lived hand to mouth.

And yet Richard was ever bright, ever hopeful. He was sure that soon, someone would sponsor him, and that one day he would be able to run marathons all over the world.

I feel lucky to have spent a weekend with him. Unlike me, and my son – and every other sighted runner – Richard always ran in the dark. He was sometimes afraid or compromised; but he was disabled only by a world designed for people who can see.

He did it, nevertheless. He was a formidable athlete, and he loved running.

So he ran.

Richard Monisi shared his inspiring story with Deputy Editor Lisa Abdellah in the article ‘Out Of Sight’, RW October 2016.