One of my favourite sayings is, “Remember, whatever you’re not changing, you’re choosing.” I often use this line whenever I notice someone complaining about a repairable situation but not doing anything about it. I also remind myself of it whenever I feel stuck in a frustrating, ongoing situation. It’s a hard line to hear. The moment I think of it, I can almost hear the “But, but, but…” bubbling up inside me. ...
Last week, while I was waiting in the car to collect our children from school, my husband sent me a message: “ There is a car I’d like to check out this afternoon.” (We’re looking for a second-hand vehicle to replace his current one, perhaps something our eldest can use while learning to drive.) I wasn’t feeling well that day and replied, “ I would love to lie down for a little while after the school run.” ...
People talk about the love-hate relationship with running (or any pursuit, really) as if the “love” will always outweigh the “hate.” As if that tension is sustainable forever. But what happens when it isn’t? What happens when the hate quietly crowds out the love — not in one dramatic blow, but slowly, through a hundred small disappointments, sore spots, setbacks, unmet hopes? When all that’s left is the dread of another session, the shame of being slow, the fear of never improving — and the guilt of admitting out loud that I don’t want this anymore? ...
Last week, I was challenged about the reason behind my consistency when my running partner admitted he hated running 1600m intervals. “Why?” I asked. “Because I can’t hit the pace set on TrainingPeaks.” “But then run them at the best pace you can manage.” “Yes, I can do that… but then I won’t get a green tick.” “So? Why do you always have to get a green tick?” “I guess for the same reason you can’t skip a workout.” ...
For the past three years, I’ve helped my youngest daughter’s drama teacher write speeches for her students as the new school year approaches. Last year, we worked on eighteen! It’s something I genuinely enjoy. It challenges me not only because I have to come up with debatable arguments from the topics we’re given, but also because I often have to write from a perspective I don’t personally agree with or know much about. ...
I don’t like wearing my glasses when I run. But I also can’t see without them, and I’ve never been able to get contact lenses into my eyes—so it is what it is, a necessary evil. In winter, it’s even more horrible. And right now, it’s the middle of winter here in South Africa. My glasses fog up in the cold morning air, especially when running track. It’s a constant dance of wiping, adjusting, and squinting through the mist. I keep joking, “Can’t see with them, can’t see without them,” or “I’m going to run into a goalpost soon,” just to keep the annoyance light. But it is an annoyance. One of those problems I can’t fix, but I manage as best I can. ...
The other day, I wasn’t quite sure how to make sense of the box of goodies that had been left behind at the 30km mark—the first table we supported at during Comrades. We had sport gels, empty packets, running kit—some clean, some very much not—that needed to be sorted and cleaned. These items might only make their way back to their owners in a week or two, and I certainly didn’t want anyone receiving two-week-old sweaty clothes. ...
My newsletters have transitioned to a new provider, and I’m delighted to share the new subscription link.
The past two weeks have been rough. I’m not even going to dress it up. My sleep, or the lack of it, has pushed me to the edge. (Stupid perimenopause, well, that is what I think it is.) I’ve tried everything. The first round of prescription meds I got earlier this year didn’t work. The second left me feeling drugged and groggy, even more tired than before. A third script followed, but I decided not to fill it right away. I’d rather face my bad sleep head-on than risk going through that again. I am tired of experimenting on top of being physically exhausted. ...
I’ve done enough 10km time trials by now to know my typical reactions: either I dread them, feeling unprepared, annoyed, and not in the mood, or I go in too confident, sure I’ll crush it… only to be disappointed. That disappointment has started to weigh on me more than I realised. It lingers. I work so hard, consistently, and still, the outcomes sometimes—uhm, often—don’t reflect the effort I’ve put in. Over time, something in me has quietly shifted. I’ve started not wanting to try—not because I don’t care, but because I care so much. I hate the hurt that comes with feeling like I’ve fallen short. ...