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.

Because somewhere along the line, my idea of “normal” changed.

These days, I cook broccoli, green beans, baby marrows, eggplant, asparagus, butternut, leeks, gemsquash, carrots, and brusselsprouts (just to name a few) — all things that used to feel unfamiliar. Now they’re just part of life.

But in that meeting, I hesitated to suggest them. Not because they’re strange. But because I didn’t want to be strange.

The truth is, I’ve built a bit of a strange little world for myself.

I wake up at 4:00.
I train for marathons.
I run most days.
I don’t drink alcohol.
I try to eat well.
I go to bed at 20:00.

To me, it’s normal. To most people, it really isn’t.

And I feel that sometimes — in small conversations, in the way people react, in the things that go unsaid but hang in the air anyway.

There’s still a part of me that wants to fit in. To not stand out. To not have to explain why this life makes sense to me.

But then I wonder…

How often are the people we’re trying to fit in with also the ones quietly keeping us where we used to be?

Not on purpose. Just by what feels familiar.

And how easily we shrink parts of ourselves to match that.

So maybe it matters that we each have a space somewhere — even a small one — where we don’t have to do that.

Where waking up at 4:00 isn’t strange.
Where running 50+ kilometres a week doesn’t need explaining.
Where eating vegetables isn’t a personality trait.

Where your normal can just be normal.

For me, this newsletter is one of those spaces. And I hope you have a space like that too.