The other day, a WhatsApp conversation with a friend made me stop and think again about why I do what I do.

We were chatting about her Comrades plans, and she asked about my running goals for the year.

“I’ll probably keep supporting at Comrades until, someday, I’m strong and fast enough to run it myself. If that ever happens.”

“2027 would be a good year to run it,” she replied.

I stared at the message for a moment before typing back. “I can’t even imagine that yet—or where I’ll be, or what shape I’ll be in then. Every December that ticks by without me falling back into obesity is a win in my books.”

She said she had seen so many people struggling with their weight, and I found myself saying, “I know. It’s one of the saddest things to witness.”

Because this—this is why I started my blog.

The first time I truly realised I was emotionally eating, my immediate thought wasn’t just about myself. Others must be doing this too, probably without even realising it. I need to tell them.

What touches me the most are the wives and mothers who have stopped living for themselves, who have faded into the background while paradoxically making themselves bigger in the process. It breaks my heart.

I wish I could take them by the shoulders and wake them up.

But my friend was right when she said, “You’re doing all you can; you can’t do it for them. They have to do it for themselves.”

All I can do is share my story and hope it resonates enough to help others find their own way out.

Every now and then, it helps to reflect on my why—to reconnect with the initial drive that got me going.

Why do you do what you do?