10/09/2026
I was supposed to be running 10km at the Melbourne Marathon today. Registered, committed, had every intention of being there.
But somewhere between organising the RACMA Conference, preparing for a retreat next week and everything else that comes with life, I think I bit off more than I could chew.
And the hardest part wasn’t deciding not to run. It was admitting to myself that I wasn’t going to.
Because apparently my ego had decided that pulling out meant I’d failed.
Which is ridiculous.
I’m standing here watching the runners come through, feeling some serious FOMO, and having a bit of a moment with myself.
Why do we do this? Why do we set these enormous expectations for ourselves and then feel disappointed when we can’t meet every single one of them?
Nobody was expecting me to run today. Nobody was going to judge me for not running. That pressure was entirely mine.
We talk so much about being kinder to ourselves, recognising our limits and knowing when to slow down. But actually practising it, especially when you’re someone who likes to do ALL the things, is a different story.
I’m disappointed. I wish I was out there. Both things can be true while still knowing I made the right decision.
Not because I wasn’t capable of running 10km, but because right now, something had to give.
And maybe that’s the lesson I’m taking from today.
Knowing your limits isn’t the same as limiting yourself.
