(To be. Or to become?)

The first week of a new year in primary school or high school in SA meant only one thing: sport. Well, it also meant a second thing: a devastated, desperately unhappy younger me. Because I hated sport. All sport. I was not good at it.

But then I grew up and made new friends and forged tribal bonds, many of which survive to this day. Our tribe’s priorities changed over time; one by one we quit smoking (everyone smoked in the nineties). One by one we got first jobs, new jobs, more qualifications… And one day, I don’t even remember when or why, I put on cheap sneakers and went for a walk-run with members of my tribe. I put pen to paper and joined a gym. I contracted with a friend, and we became health-chasers together.

The same slow girl who hated sports days, also hated running, but kept at it. That same slow girl listened to advice and bought better shoes and a good sports bra and entered races. First a 5k or two. Next a monumental 10k. Soon the Saturday long runs would mean 10k before breakfast. And then came the half-marathons. Many, many half-marathons that I’d complete with sweary words aplenty and a crap attitude. But I finished all of them.

I no longer run, so don’t be too impressed. But I never lost the desire to put on the running shoes and aim for 300 calories burnt or 10000 steps taken every day. Whether it’s through walking the dogs or preparing lunch for my extended family, I reach my target most days.

I just recently realised again – and that’s a whole separate story – that sometimes when we look at our lives from where we are, we often only see the possibilities that exist within the boundaries of our current reality. We can’t see that there could be more than this. We don’t ask questions that push those boundaries out a bit and expose opportunity.

Sometimes we need someone on the other side of our walls to ask the questions we can’t even fathom. Someone who can guide us to becoming.

Truth be told, if I’d believed my school-self, my feet would never have seen the inside of a running shoe. And that would’ve been a tragedy.