It’s irrationally difficult for me to accept that I need medication.
In the past five years, my perspective on weight and, in particular, owning a scale has shifted.
There’s no shortcut. No magic pill. No single exercise or activity to fix it – it’s never-ending, a gift, and, frankly, it’s a massive responsibility.
There’s a quiet reassurance in knowing that no matter how far or how fast I want to go, no matter how long it’s been since I last hit the trail, my running shoes are always there.
In July, I decided I had to run at least 100km. Over the course of four weeks, it doesn’t seem an impressive feat but between work and travel, a bit of rather serious health stuff and trying to have some kind of social life, it wasn’t as easy as I thought it would be. But… Continue reading I ran 100 kilometres, just for me