Category Archives: My Thoughts

There’s one word runners need to stop using in 2025

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The one word we need to stop using is “just”.

I kept hearing it from a group of phenomenal women who were running a 5km race with me recently.

There was a 10km race, but all of us were (just) doing the half. Just the 5km. Nothing serious.

“I’m just running the 5km.” Just. Huh?

It softens the effort. Makes it less of a big deal. Diminishes the impact. Signals uncertainty.

And it’s way more common for women to slip this word in our narrative because we don’t want to appear forceful or assertive.

As runners, we’re always comparing ourselves to others. It’s one of the most damaging aspects of the sport.

▪️I’m just running the 10km. It’s a fun run.

▪️I’m just running the half. I’m not running marathons this year.

▪️I’m just doing a walk/run.

▪️I’m going to say it’s just a slow run on Strava so people don’t actually think I’m this slow.

It implies that a shorter distance or slower pace carries less weight. Nonsense!

The word screams limitation, fear and imposter syndrome. It signals that perhaps we’re not good enough.

I feel this to my core because I’m so guilty of using just when I speak about my running.

And for me, this is the worst part: It makes other runners who hear this feel as if their efforts aren’t as important either.

Stop using it in 2025.

How you speak about yourself matters more than you realise! How you speak about runs and running and races can either build or break someone down.

So if you hear another runner saying, “They’re just running X distance”, please stop them and remind them that it’s not just that. It’s amazing.

And encourage them to run it with all their heart and enjoy the run because isn’t that why we really do it?

By the way, I ran a seasons best (SB) in my 5km with this bunch of women and felt amazing the rest of the day.

Because nothing we do is just anything. My SB gets me into a headspace ready to tackle my training for next year’s races. You have no idea how important this is for me. It wasn’t JUST any old 5km to me.

Our goals are different. It’s never just a run but part of something bigger, and it’s all worth celebrating.

📸 credit: Jenny Smith & Michelle Coach Mee

We are all hiding: From corporate masks to grey hair truths

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My hair started going grey at 27. For over 20 years, I’ve been tinting it—until now. In September, I decided to stop.

When I quit my corporate job in 2018, it took over a year to figure out who I really was. It wasn’t just my grey hair I was hiding – it was me. As a newbie entrepreneur, I defaulted to showing up on social media by using filters to soften my wrinkles and smooth out my skin to appear younger.

In corporate, we hide behind the masks of professionalism. We pretend we have it all together because we have to. It’s part of the game. I did it for years. And on Instagram, it’s all about the highlights reel… like must look perfect.

But leaving corporate was my first step toward showing up as my true self, though it took a while to stop playing that role. Stopping the tint is another step in that journey.

Over the years, I’ve tried every shade – blonde, brunette, and even almost black during COVID. But as I’ve gotten older, hiding my greys has gotten more difficult to do. Every four weeks, I’d go to the salon, but after 10 days, that white band would start creeping back.

It felt like any sign of aging or imperfection had to be hidden in the corporate world, and then on social media.

But now I’m tired. I’m tired of pretending.

If my coaching business encourages people to show up, be vulnerable, and be themselves, it starts with me.

They call it “grey blending,” but for me, it’s more about transitioning. I transitioned out of corporate and into entrepreneurship and it didn’t happen overnight. It’s been a journey of learning, shedding old layers, and figuring out what works for me. Going lighter didn’t work for me, so I’m trying the darker route of matching the peppers in my hair to a demi-colour wash as the hair grows out.

Corporate made me hard, self-preserving. Social media filters appear fake and inauthentic. Tinting does the same. So many people have commented that the grey hairs actually soften my face.

And that I’m brave….

Ironically, I feel freer. I can breathe again. But I’m not “embracing” my greys yet. To embrace means welcoming something fully, and I’m not there.

I prefer the word recognize.

I choose to recognize that I’m getting older—I’ll be 50 next year. I recognize that it’s not just my hair that’s changing. It’s my face, my body, my mind.

As women, we are experts at hiding. We hide our emotions, fears, and insecurities. And in doing so, we lose pieces of ourselves.

We tint our hair, cover our wrinkles, soften our stories, all to fit into the boxes society creates for us. But hiding creates distance. It builds walls between who we are and who we think we need to be.

When I left corporate, I didn’t know who I really was. That’s what hiding does—it makes you forget.

And if we are to change the toxic culture of social media, it starts with social media coaches, like myself, showing up as me.

So, stopping the tinting is just the beginning for me as I head into my 50s, the youth of old age, as they say. I really like this saying!

It’s been hard. I’ve struggled with seeing the silver streaks, with trying to accept it.

I’m not fully embracing it yet, but I’ve taken the first step. And that’s often the hardest part of any change.

I miss my running coughing attacks in the age of coronavirus

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The hour before road races start, my body develops what I call “my running coughs.”

My nose runs, I get into a fit of coughing attacks and it feels like my body attempts to vomit all my nerves out.

My coughing reminds me of John Coffee from the movie “The Green Mile.” It’s my way of vomiting up all my fears and nerves as a green mist, leaving my body.

It’s a mixture of excitement and fear pulsating through my body; the fight or flight syndrome at its peak.

I’m usually shivering at the starting line of each race paralyzed in fear, ready to vomit my guts out, screaming these 3 questions in my head:

  • Will I manage the distance ahead of me? It’s too far!
  • Will I come last & be humiliated? WTF am I so slow?
  • Have I done enough training? It’s too late now!

2020 has felt that way for me. The uncertainty. The self-doubt. The fears. The anxiety. The question, “why is this happening?”

Some things are certain with every race:

  • Water stops
  • Road Marshalls
  • Kilometer markings

That’s it! The rest is up to me.

I have no idea until I start running whether or not I’ll feel strong, or if I’ll trip on cat eyes or need the dreaded portaloo, or even hit the wall.

That’s why I get my running coughs. It’s the unknown which is both terrifying and exhilarating at the same time.

I haven’t run a race since Bobbies in February. I miss the pre-race adrenaline. That addictive sick sensation pumping through my body.

My running coughing attacks remind me that anything can happen. Anything.

But what the hell, run anyhow!

Don’t overthink it.

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It’s a simple sentence but one that stopped me in my tracks when I read it.

Don’t overthink it. What do you mean “Don’t overthink it?” How is that even possible? I’m a thinker. It’s what I do.

Weeping Buddha. Bought in Bali a few years ago & which sits on my dressing table. 🤎

My need for escapism is at an all time high. Especially since lockdown has my brain fried.

I’ve gone from days loving being locked up in the solitude known as my office, to other days when I can’t breathe and seek out any excuse to get in my car and drive away, music blaring.

I’ve started training again with running Coach Michelle. It’s been a lifesaver. My only constant in a world gone mad.

Running around a dry & grassy field alone over and over again gives you time to think. X8 laps worth. And my Sunday run turned into a walk when the weight of my thoughts were just too heavy to carry.

  • The COVID case numbers are out of control
  • The economy is shattered
  • Unemployment and desperation is rising
  • Anger. Blame. Hatred. Fear.
  • There’s no end in sight

The exhaustion of trying to live in a state of endless hope has taken its toll on me. I’m losing hope.

I’m tired. Tired of being hopeful on my own. Just for once, I need the freedom to vent. To be angry. To collapse. In safety.

The weight of giving up hope weighs heavily. Because if positive people, like myself, give up, then what?

Not overthinking it is impossible right now.