If I had known on the 5th of December 2021 that it would take me three years—almost to the day—to improve the 10km time I ran that day, I’m not sure I would have laced up my shoes at all.

This past weekend, I finally broke that 10km personal best—three years of trying, failing, and trying again. For most of this year, I’d been actively chasing this goal, coming so close—just seconds away—on several occasions. But no matter how hard I tried, it refused to fall. Until this weekend…

My friend and fellow MCMer, Iniel, offered to pace me for the run—a gesture that touched me deeply, especially since I hadn’t asked for help and had been planning to run solo. It felt like he still believed in me, even when I’d stopped believing in myself. But I was also hesitant to accept his offer of help and afraid it would put pressure on me again, however, he assured me – no pressure. It wasn’t the first time someone had paced me. Earlier this year, my coach Michelle tried, as did my friend Raymond—more than once. I hoped it would be the day I’d finally break through each time, but it never was.

Before we started, Iniel asked what I had in mind for the run. I told him I’d love to break that PB—even if only by a second—and explained that the hills were my biggest challenge. He listened and simply stayed by my side throughout the run. He never pushed me, never asked me to pick up the pace, and never looked worried that we might not make it. He didn’t run ahead, either—he just stayed steady, right next to me.

By the end of the run, I had to triple-check my watch. I couldn’t believe it—I’d shaved thirty seconds off my time!

One of the first things I said to Iniel after our run was, “Michelle is going to be so happy.” She’s been working hard with me all year, hoping for this PB as much as I have. This victory felt like a shared reward, built on years of effort—not just mine, but from everyone who’s supported me.

In my first book, I shared my fear of regaining the 80kg I lost. I described a conversation with my therapist, in which he urged me to stop measuring myself solely against the scale. He reminded me that the process itself—the commitment to an active, healthy life—was worth it. Whether or not the results came immediately, or even at all, I had to keep going for the sake of my overall well-being.

The journey to this PB felt like my commitment to a healthy lifestyle. Day after day, I show up—planning meals, waking up early in all kinds of weather, hitting the tarmac, or picking up weights. Many days feel futile, especially when the results I’m chasing don’t seem to materialise.

In those moments, it’s easy to think, Why bother? What’s the point? My husband’s teasing question after my PB run—“So do you still think everything you do is futile?” (Yes, I get like that too, and he often bears the brunt of it)—hits on that very struggle.

No commitment to any lifestyle or habit can ever be about the occasional triumph. It’s about showing up, day after day, and trusting that those efforts are always to your benefit—validation or not.

But when those victories do come, oh, how sweet they are…