Still Running

I’m running a 21km race in two weeks. Which sounds cool until I remember… I’m 46.

The last time I did a half-marathon, I was 20. Twenty. That was 26 years ago, back when I had bendy joints and a body that didn’t talk back after every run. So, yeah — this feels a little crazy.

But here’s what I didn’t expect: I’ve actually been loving it.

Not just the running, but the structure. The motivation. The weird mental resilience that’s grown quietly over the last four months. I’ve run more than 10km multiple times now — 12, 14, 16… and even 20km two weeks ago. Who even am I?

And it’s not just running. I’m learning about things I never thought I’d care about: fueling, cadence, vertical oscillation (what?), heart rate zones, shoe rotation, electrolytes, macros, protein types… I mean. I’m actually tracking stuff now. Intentionally.

And last night — I added mobility exercises to my daily routine. Because my hips are not 20 anymore and my calves are angry.

“Every time I run, I have a better day. Every. Single. Time.”

This training has kind of taken over my life. Some days it’s stressful. Especially on the mornings I just do not want to get out of bed. But I’ve learned something big:

Even if I’m sore, tired, dragging my feet — there’s this weird shift. A mental reset. A clarity and energy I can’t get any other way. That’s what keeps me going. That, and the rhythm of early morning runs.

I love starting when it’s still dark. That silence. The hush. The city not quite awake. It fills me. But once the sun rises and people start spilling out onto sidewalks, my brain gets noisy. I lose the stillness. The focus gets harder.

Night runs? I’ve tried. But then I can’t sleep — adrenaline keeps me wired. So morning runs it is. Before the world crowds in.

“I like that my daughter sees me doing something hard. Because hard things don’t disappear when you grow up — we just get better at hiding them.”

I want her to know that it’s okay to struggle. To try. To keep going even when you don’t feel like it. That comforts me. And maybe, it comforts her too.

I hope I keep this up even after race day. The practice of showing up. Of doing hard things. Of surprising myself — one kilometre at a time.