I grew up thinking I couldn’t run. In fact, I thought that for 30 years of my life. It was me walking at the back when we had to do cross country at school. I didn’t see the point and I didn’t know how to make my body do it.

As an adult, I did sporadic fitness classes and I returned very casually to ballet after nearly two decades away. I struggled to be consistent.

That persisted until I was 30. I was a cliché pandemic Couch to 5K girlie, gradually shuffling through the kms. Over time, I taught myself how to break through mental barriers. Do you know what that did for my self-esteem?

I began to believe in my body, and my command over my body. I started feeling safer – it was like I’d finally been given the bloody instruction manual!

I now live my life in a very controlled way: nutrition, exercise, creative practice, rest and peace. I measure, I set goals. I compete with myself and I forgive myself. Running gave me all of that.

Since 2020, I’ve run every Sunday. I could probably count the Sundays I’ve missed on my hands. I don’t know if I love it, but I don’t hate it. It’s more that I need it.

Last year, I was running 13k. The furthest I’d ever run, further than I could have possibly imagined. Then over the summer, I took a short break while I did physio on my lower back, and I lost so much fitness. Man, I regret it. I know it was probably sensible, but I’ve only just built back up to a decent 5k.

However, I know I can do it. I did it. I can do it again and again and again and again if I have to. Spring is coming, the best time to run, and I know I can do it.