Blog

There have been so many signs lately that I am growing older much faster than I want to. And I am already feeling a bit insecure about it because I am trying to grow my grey out… again. It is currently at that horrible stage where it is so tempting to just go colour it. We were celebrating my 45th birthday this past weekend, seeing as I am going to be in Cape Town for the remainder of this coming week, and I decided to have a glass of wine. Boy, that did not go down well. I have officially reached the age where any alcohol creates havoc with my sleep and HRV. ...

I was sitting in a meeting two weeks ago, helping plan the menu for a matric farewell. At one point, I joked that at least this isn’t an evening where we have to force vegetables onto anyone’s plate… but we should probably have a few options besides just a salad. So I asked what else we could include. The suggestions were: potatoes. Corn. And then… nothing. It wasn’t wrong. It just felt limited. ...

I’m in the peak of marathon training at the moment, and it’s hard. This past weekend I hurt my foot — nothing major, I hope. And that’s been frustrating. Not just because of the interruption, but because of how quickly my mind goes to: “You messed this up.” As if one small thing undoes weeks of consistency. It made me realise how easily I slip into thinking: “I’m bad at this.” ...

I’ve recently increased the weights I use for my strength training. They’re not the kind you can quickly adjust — changing them is a bit of a mission. And while it does feel good to know I’ve progressed enough that my old weights became too easy… these new ones are hard. Properly hard. Hard enough that I’ve noticed something I don’t love: I’ve started avoiding my strength sessions. Which feels a bit ridiculous, because this is exactly what I wanted, wasn’t it? ...

For someone who likes plans, certainty, and clear direction, the past few weeks have felt particularly uncomfortable. My daughter hasn’t been well, and we still don’t have clear answers. Maybe it’s nothing. Actually, it’s highly unlikely that it’s nothing; we simply don’t know how serious it is yet — and that uncertainty has a way of sitting heavily in the background of everything else. I’ve realised how much I rely on things being measurable, definable, and predictable. I like knowing what I’m dealing with and what comes next. Not knowing feels like standing still without a map. ...

After running my fourth marathon just more than a week ago, I expected to have so much to say. Instead, there’s a strange quiet. Where is the neat little story about perseverance, grit, and the magic of race day? I don’t have it. Instead, I find myself wondering whether signing up for two marathons so close together was actually a good idea. It probably wasn’t. At the time, it felt exciting. Ambitious. Like something my future self would thank me for. ...

It’s race week! On Saturday, I’m running my next marathon. The other day, I saw an Instagram reel that said: It’s always “Why do you run so much?” and never “What mile can I meet you at with snacks?” I laughed. Because — true story. At the start of this year, while discussing leave, I mentioned that I’m planning to run a marathon at the end of February. A colleague looked at me and asked, quite sincerely: ...

My foot caught on a lip of uneven concrete, and before I could even comprehend what was happening, I was down. There is a specific, jarring shock to falling at forty-four. It’s not quite like falling as a kid, which was already bad for me; it’s a heavy, bone-rattling impact that leaves you winded on the side of a busy road, traffic blurring past while you check for blood and broken pride. I sat there for quite some time, brushing grit off my palms, wondering why I do this at all. ...

Wow, this year has started with a bang. My father-in-law passed away the day before my husband and I were due to return to work after our December and January leave. Although he had been ill for some time, it was still a huge shock for all of us. I have already lost both my parents, but for my husband, this is his first experience of losing a parent, and it’s been heartbreaking to watch him go through this. And don’t let me start on what it’s been like for our children. ...

I took a long break from writing. It was necessary. It was good. But I’m ready to start again — carefully, intentionally, and hopeful that I’ll find the rhythm I managed to hold over the last two years. 2025 wasn’t a year of big ambitions. I stepped back from marathons to focus on shorter distances and gave cross-country a try. My only real target was a mileage goal: 2,600 km. ...