Blog

I’m not one to quickly lose hope. Usually I’ll keep trying and trying. I think I’m more one for setting unrealistic goals. Because trying and not getting there is something I am an expert at by now. I used to believe the words of the song I’m Getting Ready by Tasha Cobbs, and often when I get to that song on my playlist, I’ll play it again. Or even a third time. But recently it came up again, and my first instinct was to say, What nonsense, and skip it. And it was then that I realised that I had given up hope. Hope of ever getting better or faster at running. Hope that maybe one day I’ll be fast enough to qualify for Comrades. ...

Oh my goodness, this weekend was just crazy. Special, but crazy. With my eldest’s matric farewell and the matric parents organising it, I hardly got any time to myself — let alone time to write my next newsletter. Yesterday morning, when I told Lauren, who came to help me with strength training, that I hadn’t even started writing my letter yet, and that usually by a Monday I am basically done with it, she said, “Luckily you have so much news, there must be lots to write about.” ...

This weekend has been a bit crazy, and when my notification to look at writing this newsletter was triggered on Friday, I was already at the border between South Africa and Botswana. Needless to say, this newsletter didn’t get the attention it deserves, but I still want to remain consistent and get one out. Something that surprised me about this weekend was how cold it was. I pictured hot, sweltering African weather. I packed mosquito spray, summer clothes and one light jacket. Instead, it was windy, a little chilly and rained cats and dogs. ...

You might have read the story about how I started running in my first book. If you have, please excuse me for telling it again shortly. When I started with Weigh-Less in 2017, I weighed 165 kg. I didn’t start exercising at the same time. I thought that would be too much to tackle all at once. I was already trying to change the way I ate, and besides, at 165 kg, the thought of moving my body for exercise was almost incomprehensible. ...

During one of my runs last week, I did something I don’t normally do. A friend and I had organised to run together and have coffee afterwards. (Many times, I think the only reason we actually run is because of the coffee afterwards.) Because we run at very different paces, we normally arrange to run the same route in opposite directions. That way, we at least see each other along the way, but I don’t hold him back. ...

There’s one appointment on my calendar each year that I look forward to more than almost any other: my annual photoshoot. This year was my fourth. And because we do them around the same time each year, they’ve become a kind of reflection point for me. A chance to notice not only how I’ve become more comfortable in front of the camera, but sometimes how I’ve grown in other ways too. ...

The past two weeks have been filled with celebrations as both my husband and my youngest celebrated their birthdays. And then there was cross-country… which, despite all the celebrations, is what stood out most. Every year, cross-country reminds me that I am, indeed, a road runner. My coach insists it does me good, so I dutifully pin on my race number and convince myself that perhaps this year it won’t be quite so bad. ...

Last week, an Instagram page I follow had me thinking about why we do the things we do. Why do I run, for example? I love being reminded of this now and then because motivation is fickle. A friend recently commented on another friend’s Strava feed that motivation has no loyalty. It is with you one day and gone the next. And that is true for all of us. Me included. ...

Last week, my daughter got a hairband stuck in her hair. Not just tangled — properly stuck. I tried pulling gently. I tried working it loose with my fingers. I tried approaching it from different angles. Nothing worked. Frustrated, she suggested we cut it out. I was stunned. She is fiercely proud of her long blonde hair, protective of it even. The last person I expected to suggest cutting it was her. ...

Why is it that lately, whenever I sit down to write this newsletter, I feel like I have nothing to say? Which is absurd, really, because something objectively amazing happened these past two weeks: I completed my fifth marathon, well within the cutoff. I should be proud. I should be celebrating. Instead, I came home disappointed. Not because something went wrong. But because, somewhere deep down, I had hoped for more. And I am a fan of setting goals, but it always carries the risk of not reaching them, which can be disappointing. I wanted to run better. Faster. Stronger. I wanted proof that all the training was translating into improvement. ...