When my friend told me that her train was getting in one hour later than planned I was quickly reminded why the British cliche of one cup of tea really is a community factor in our English culture.

What shall I do with my hour? I thought, as the sun bared onto my very pale skin and Lorde blasted through my headphones.

I decided to just walk slower. I was having a great walk, one of those walks where you just smile in the sun and think, today is great. I started noticing the kids running to catch the ball from their parents, apples growing from a tree in the park (which invited me to pick them for the afternoons’ picnic), really, there were a lot of glimmers.

Then, I started staring at a sign by a house opposite, “South Bristol Arts Trail” it read.

A lady was standing at the door and screamed, “Hello, the sign just went up!”

I pulled out my headphones and walked over, “What kind of art do you do?” I asked.

She pulls out a cigarette packet with a tongue-and-cheek collage of “Tesco finest” “peeled and ready to eat” and “L-Theanine” herbal vitamins wrapper covering the graphic, gum-disease ridden teeth beneath.

“Do you smoke?” Jillo asks.

No, I say with an inquisitive smile. Who is Jillo? I want to know her story.

She pulls out a cigarette and takes a large puff, telling me about her love for recycled art and her excitement for a successful day at the Arts Trail in a couple of weeks.

She tells me how she loves hearing about other people, their stories. When she calls Apple support or energy suppliers she always asks where the customer service assistant is from.

“Often, they are from Ireland, or they are from Bangalore, and we get into a great long chat about what they are up to and how they live. It makes the world seem so much smaller and it makes me realise so many people want to tell their story, they just need someone to listen.”

Jillo invites me in for a cup of tea.

Her outright questions and open door policy (literally, she leaves the front door open) is refreshing. Around the world, there is a reputation of the British that they can be cold or keep you at arms length for a while.

I have no where to be. Maybe it was just great that my friends’ train was delayed.

So, I enter her artists’ paradise, brimming with her creativity, of acrylic paintings using testers’ from the old Wilk'o’s, shelves made from Snickers boxes, fish made from disintegrating crisp wrappers and clay models.

Walking into her house, I saw her, I listened, and it was such a wonderful encounter.

She put her son’s live DJ set on the TV, where he is playing in India right now and then showed me all of the newspaper clippings she has kept from the musical world of Bristol since 1988.

Jillo takes me on a tour of all of her artwork, gives me a cup of tea and keeps reappearing with gifts of her art.

I write more about Jillo and her attitude to life, and why, maybe community is created in the energy you put out in my collection: www.the-community-project.com

Today, Jillo gave me hope that while we are all more disconnected than ever, maybe we are also the opposite. Maybe having an open door policy on a sunny Sunday, with a sprinkle of trust and just saying hello, is a way to see different views, perspectives and learn more about the world.

Thanks, Jillo.

(If you are in Bristol 19&20th September please visit Jillo & Sam. They are fabulous, number 29 on the art trail brochure.)

p.s. Jillo just became a paid subscriber to my substack and I am so grateful, thank you!!!

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I’ve always been a do-er (maybe to my detriment, the words “spreading yourself too thinly” often rolls off the tongue).

But when I wrote I want to be a carpenter what I actually meant was that I wanted to learn through my hands, I wanted to MAKE. I wanted to be a make-er.

In some kind of twist and turn event, this summer, I found myself in the middle of an organic farm in the UK learning with my hands.

In fact, I wrote a list of things that I have learnt:

• What is a trowel?

• Mouting (it’s a word, I promise)

• Bauting seeds

• Flushing lettuce

• Beyonce is the best artist to dance to outside

• The best leg strength test = 5 hours of planting

• Planting parsley

• Matte skinned tomatoes - how to spot them and how they taste different

• To dry onions before harvesting them and the WHOLE onion process

• How grateful to be for ever having french beans (what a FIDDLY harvest)

• How to judge 20cm by sight (lettuce must be planted 20cm at a time)

• Why to be thankful for the rain, a motto I learnt from the Kenyan Kalenjin tribe and which I have taken with me ever since

• Greengaze plums = the best plums

• Weeding a chilli plant sounds simple, unless you don’t know what the chilli plant is supposed to look like

• Artichoke flowers smell like chocolate

• How great it is to move all day

• Organic fertilizers

• The effect of NOT buying veg and fruit from the UK & the waste we contribute to

• The ecosystem of organic growers

• Climate change in the UK.

  • Yeah, sure it’s dry… but have you ever tried to plant beetroot in a cloud of dust and gravelly stones that you have to dig beneath?

  • Have you seen sweet peas die within 1 day for someone to quickly tell you that we won’t have native summer flowers soon?

  • Internal thought: Maybe this is the way to get more people to realise the severity of what’s going on, thoughts?

• Gardening, farming, growing brings together people from different generations, backgrounds and cultures, and everyone is so welcoming (I asked some stupid questions).

  

I have realised that it’s not that hard to learn the practical things that I want to learn.

Okay, going from 0-100 as a carpenter is different, but I have learnt gardening skills and organic growing techniques that seemed like a different language 6 weeks ago.

Don’t get me wrong, it’s been pretty humbling and sad sometimes as we try and plant seeds in the driest summer EVER. But, when the South West recieved exactly 7 minutes of rain and we all did some kind of rain dance, it was quite liberating.

Beyonce was played.

Community is everywhere and so is learning.

So, no, I’m not a carpenter but if you want to know how to grow your own most amazing veg or a little more about the world around us…

Check out the list here of UK CSA’s (Community Supported Agriculture) or search for nearby volunteering market garden projects OR buy from local producers (or they might go bankrupt very soon and we will all be eating chemically tasting food from abroad at very high prices very soon)

I’ve written a bit more about market gardens and the building of communities through land in the UK at www.the-community-project.com

Was that 500 words? I am not sure.

If these give you a glimmer, a smile, a chuckle and you could share €5 a month to keep the keys typing, I’d be very appreciative <3

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I know, crazy.

But yes, a tea farm, in the UK.

One of our group had gone ahead and stumbled across the tea farm. They had spoken to Jon who had offered an impromptu tour of the tea farm.

Catherine, Jon’s wife, showed us around.

The sun was bearing down on our exposed skin and we were quickly handed golf umbrellas to make the weather more tolerable.

We use red clover for fertiliser, Catherine tells us. It provides nitrates in the soil and means we don’t need to use any chemicals.

Ragwort is the habitat for over 200 organisms, we tug it out to save the horses but horses don’t eat it unless it’s dried and unrecogniseable in haystacks. More facts roll out of Catherine’s encyclopaedic knowledge. Natural hedging, bee varieties, experimenting with spacing between plants, pests, insects, rabbits, fertilisers, harvesting methods, various irrigation systems and rainwater harvesting, not a stone untouched.

How did you learn all of this? We ask.

Self-taught.

Catherine is a small lady with a glow of someone who has moved and lived in the land. She has an integrity to all of her words, words that hold a presence which draws in our ears.

Former healthcare workers, Catherine and Jon are now heading into the later stages of life and 5 years ago they asked each other what they could try and grow on their 2 acre plot in Dartmoor.

Fruit and vegetables has been so done, they said.

The second most consumed drink after water?

Tea.

They read and read and read and taught themselves everything they know.

They had never been land people and now, they travel to try tea and learn off hubs around the world.

Most recently, they have been to China and Japan where they learnt how to future proof their harvesting method for when they are no longer fit enough to do it by hand.

At the end of our tour, we enter the wooden building on the farm.

It’s beautiful.

Who built this? We ask.

I did, Jon replies.

I’m not a practical person, Jon tells us. I lived in a caravan on some land and a derelict building that I found cheaply, and very slowly renovated the barn. I taught myself everything and then I did it a few more times.

I have become a practical person now but I was never natural at it, he admits.

Jon’s following comment really sparked something within me:

I have the attitude that if a human has done it, and I am a human then I can teach myself to do it too.

Both Jon and Catherine encompass this attitude through everything that they have done on the farm.

They just started with an idea, they learnt more and more and now they have an organic tea farm which supplies premium destinations across the world. Just being there I could really feel the joy and care they have for what they have created.

There is a light enveloping Dartmoor Tea Farm, a light that shows the endless possibilities with a bit of curiosity and can-do attitude.

Oh, and the tea was pretty amazing too!

If this gives your day a little light, you can subscribe below ✨

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I have always celebrated my birthday in big, spectacular ways, in the way that any Leo really should. It’s usually a week long and it’s a bit of a joke amongst my family. Normally, it’s friends from different corners of my life gathering over different days with a healthy sprinkling of organised fun.

Last year, it was an evening with a creative sparkle.

Everyone had to bring something and, my friends really showed up.

They brought a performance, a dance, a poem, a reading, a mini art exhibition, a DJ performance, a cocktail recipe.

This year, back in the UK for the first birthday in 4 years, something felt different. A little shift.

Actually, maybe a major shift?

After over 6 months about writing about change, not knowing what’s next, about getting used to living in uncertainty, about meeting people and optimism all over the world, in the last couple of months something has come to me to return to the UK. The UK as home.

I decided to drive to see a best friend, a fellow Leo who is also conveniently living half way between the South of the UK and my parents’ home.

A joint birthday lunch with decor, of course.

I arrived 45 minutes late (after telling her I’d be there 2 hours early) and got the text “classic you, panicking me for an early arrival only to turn up late.” I realised it’s that kind of text that I love. Someone who just, get’s it.

Side note: That is my style for every event, ever.

A cake, a mountain of updates but really just two very old friends having a chat. Somewhere in the middle of that chat I realised how much stronger my pull to have a base in the UK has become.

Somewhere in the middle of that chat I had a growing realisation that my pull to be there for all of my bestfriends’ and family’s life events had made this nomadic/living abroad life has always been a continuous tug in my free spirited self. I will always want the adventure, the change, the meeting of new people, the challenge of perspectives but I also have the biggest heart for being there for everyone.

The oldest of friends are often the bestest of friends, family really.

That afternoon, we were asked to try on some outfits for a catwalk instagram reel for a local shop owner and two elderly women told us we were “beautiful youths and we needed to hear it.”

The best words for two Leos.

Being home with my parents for dinner was so lovely. I mean, don’t get me wrong, there’s only so long I can do it, but just being able to pop home for a night is something I will never take for granted.

Then, this weekend I spent camping with my Dad on the Brecon Beacons.

He always said to me, when you have time, you don’t have money and when you have money, you don’t have time. It’s a phrase I don’t actually believe in and have been trying to defy my whole life. Somehow I am determined to prove him wrong for my whole life, I want my life to be the time.

He will soon hit his 60th birthday and on that trail this weekend, he told me about his fear that his body won’t be able to do the things he wants to do when he retires.

There is a sense of pride as we reach the peak of the Welsh hills. Birthdays feel emblematic as we get older, to me it is becoming a reflection of values and of a real excuse for quality time.

In the driest of British summers, we pitched our tents, had a cup of tea over the lakes and then he whipped out a hot chocolate pouch as a special surprise. Who doesn’t love a luxury hot chocolate? NEVER too old.

At 5am we see sunrise, pinkness fills the horizon and we walk to the lakes.

A morning swim by 8am and in the car driving home by 10am.

Sometimes, the adventures closest to home give the biggest hit and what I have really missed isn’t the adventure but it is doing this with the people that I know the best.

It doesn’t mean that I don’t love doing adventures around the world, in the wild freedom of the unknown, those trips give me a wealth that is irreplaceable. They have introduced me to incredible people, opened up conversations and taught me so much about my self, others and the planet. Doing the same thing with someone very close to me is a different kind of adventure. It doesn’t have to be one or the other, there are no rules or confinements apart from the ones I put on myself or absorb from the comments of others around me. Guess what? Turns out, I love both.

That night, looking at the views across the Gower, I registered for Breathwork Facilitator training. It finishes in November.

It’s in these places, like the Brecon Beacons, that I am my truest self. It’s where I know what is right and what to do next and it doesn’t come from pages of journalling or hours of breathwork. It comes because there’s no distraction, there’s no thoughts of what people might think, there’s just an expansive landscape that makes me realise, I, you, we can do anything. Wales really does feel like home and being out in nature is the best place to listen to myself.

As we drove home, Dad told me he had to pull a tooth out last night because the pain is too much in his mouth. In his tent, in the middle of the hills he self-dentist’ed (a word?!) himself. That just about sums it up. He really is nearly 60.

This birthday has shown me (and I’m trying to write this in the most non-cliche, cringey way possible) that I have learnt to live in uncertainty, self-trust and maybe I do love the adventure, the highs and lows of that too.

P.S For anyone living near Bristol, Wales or North Devon there are some incredible spots for a weekend hiking and camping adventure I would love to share with you.

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That is the word micro-inspo.

Micro-inspo #1

I met Martin as I was walking up a road towards Bristol, as he winds down his window and asks if I want a lift, I gladly accept. Martin it turns out is from NZ, but he said he has lived in Britsol for a long time yet it still doesn’t feel like home. He’s in the second half of his life, I won’t try and guess an age so that I don’t embarass myself or shame him. Never guess someone’s age.

He says that no where feels like home, apart from that he has family near him in Bristol. He has travelled a lot of his life, often for work. Now, he doesn’t like travelling, he hates airports, he wants to be in one place for a few months not a arrive, unpack, work, pack, leave cycle. His words hit home to me as I recently found my body rejecting the constant cycles of goodbyes that I was finding myself in every time I went somewhere new. It’s like a open heart, here’s me, connections, relationships and then a hard door in the face when the “see you soon-not-goodbye” moment comes. Something he said resonated.

It turns out Martin is a BAFTA-nominated nature filmmaker, he has been to the most incredible places and is seeing the very real changes to our planet. We talked about water companies not taking any responsibility for the pollution of the South West waters, we talked about the beauty of Kenyan landscape and the book that he is writing.

He mentioned someone he used to work with, who one day said to him, “I will be a nature filmmaker,” and moved to South Africa to do it, with no experience. Martin doubted him. This man went all-in and is now an award-winning filmmaker.

Micro-inspo #2

On Friday night I was meeting someone for a drink in Bristol and I see a lady that looks familiar walk down the street towards me. I have absoliutely no idea who she is, but her eyes and her body language looks so familiar. I am sure I know her from somewhere.

How many times have you been in that place where you have no idea where, but you know that you have met… somewhere.

I catch her eye as I pass her walking down the street. She looks at me and goes “no way!!”

At that moment, I realise that this is not a pretend you haven’t seen her and keep walking moment, instead I have to think quick and I have to place my memory while talking to her.

She tells me that she is visiting a best friend who lives in Bristol for a few days.

That’s when I remember.

We met at a spoken word event in Porto. I still don’t know her name. We were taking part in a workshop and I had, classically, arrived 5 minutes late, missed all of the introductions. This automatically called for me to be uder the spotlight, with no context, doing the all too known “hey, I’m Emily, my favourite colour…” spiel for a few minutes. Everyone knew my name, i didn’t know there’s.

Let’s call the unknown-named-Portugese-lady Beatriz for the sake of your reading. Beatriz reads her poetry in Portugese, I don’t understand a single word but the melody of Portugese kind of means that it doesn’t matter?! Later she tells us that she has just moved back to Porto, her home, after years of living away. She is in a complete transition mode and she is reading poetry for the first time out loud, she has never shared her work with anyone.

It feels quite profound, her returning to home at the same time as expressing her creativity to a crowd. She was so nervous but then she read the first poem, sat down, someone else stood up and then she started performing again and again. Maybe she read 4 or 5 pieces of work that night? Watching her excited and elated was such a fulfilling moment and the whole crowd were behind her.

And as I walk down the street after chatting with Beatriz, I begin to realise, maybe the UK could be home again in one format or another soon. Maybe, there’s something special about expressing myself back in my home country after being abroad.

But really, why am I telling you about these two people?

I have just realised that these small interactions happen everywhere. Even when I’m visiting my birth country, just speaking to a couple more people outside of my bubble have inspired me in different ways.

They have made me realise that there are people from all over the world in the UK, there are people living differently, these strangers’ stories gave me new opinions, ways of thinking and new energy to stick to my unique path way of living right now.

Having spent so long in Portugal, Morocco, Kenya, places where community and giving time to others is treasured so highly, I have always been so critical of the UK. Almost like some resentment. A resentment towards the ways that I don’t have 3 minute-turned 20 minute conversations with strangers like I would in other countries or that I pass someone I half-know in the street and the conversation doesn’t turn into an hour chat. I feel that people don’t give spontaneous time to one another.

These last few days have made me realise that maybe it’s not a UK problem, maybe it’s a me problem.

Or, maybe, the more I can create space for others to do that and not think, “my train is coming in 2 minutes I need to end this conversation super-quickly,” the more I will have these interactions.

It’s like, sometimes, I slide back into my old ways of living and interactions when I am in the UK. If I enter interactions with the same intention, the same patience and the same intrigue as I do when I am in another country, then maybe I can open myself up to these micro-inspo’s (a term I have coined) that give me little glimmers every day.

Little notice

These newsletters will now include a series of micro-inspo’s: a collection of little stories about people that I meet.

Today’s poem

what if the tenderness of temporality
is the permanence of gratitude?
what if the flow of states is the 
rigidity of being?
what if the emotions of turbulence 
is the last lemon
swinging in season?
what if the juice from the cactus
is the salt’s spray on a fresh morning surf?
what if the ladies’ laughing at the water’s edge or singing over the children’s chatting 
is the noise of peace?

in this movement, in this lull, 
in this up and down and yo yo, 
in this peak and trough of the morning’s set,
cherries bloom, words float over pages, shells crackle in their heat, shade cradles rest, sardines are flung, sangria pitched on
the music and singing
hums the tune
of a summer of memories

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I realised how much I related, how as soon as someone mentions their cycle, or their own female health journey it’s like a key has arrived and unlocked something within me.

So to mark July beginning, here I am writing about my own female health journey in the hope that it opens a door for you.

I was 20 and I was getting so much attention (maybe it’s big headed), but also, it’s true. I had a 18 pack (little exaggeration), I was training 10 times a week, I was running faster than I ever had, everytime I saw an old friend they said, “wow you look great”, every item of clothing I could ever find fitted me.

What no one could see was my mood fluctuating every day, being in tears or modd lows on days that I hadn’t exercised, the fake smile face I put on going to social events, hours crying on the phone to my Mum, dry and itchy skin and… NO period.

I was in an all-male (except 1) training group, my group was male, we never spoke about cycles or nutrition, it was just our training targets.

I lost my period for over 18 months. I was eating more, I was exercising less, I was worrying it would never come back. That, in combination of wanting to be on contraception was an anxiety inducing time as a young woman. Some months I would be tricked it was coming back, only for it to disappear a few months later.

I went to over 10 different medical consultants who ALL made me do at least one pregnancy test, maybe two. I had blood tests, hormone tests… had I lost my period for ever? At 21?!

What it really took was learning to love the every day again, to appreciate and love nourishment, exercise, slowing down, writing, creating, painting. A rebalancing of the nervous system.

I went to one female GP, I told her what had happened and she just said, “Your exercise programme is extremely intense, this is common.” That was it. That was all it took.

It took me ONE YEAR for a GP to tell me this.

She didn’t even make me do a pregnancy test.

She just knew.

I had athletic amenorrhea similar to RED (relative energy deficiency). Caused by overexercise and undernutrition. I had no idea how I was supposed to be nourishing myself or that I was overexercising, I was just following the training programme.

Now, 6 years later, I realised how much this has impacted my relationship with exercise, with life now. Do things I enjoy, things that bring me fun without the pressure.

I love exercising, I love movement and I actually love competitions a lot of the time. Maybe this is why I’ve fallen more in love with adventures than actual competitions now? I know that my body is not expected to push itself or to complete physical limits to the point of no period.

I am much more aware of HOW to nourish myself properly so that I am mentally and physically the best version of myself. Of course, it’s a journey, it always is and everyone’s relationship is different and no, I have not perfected this.

It has taken around 3 years to see a photo of me from when I was competing at triathlon and NOT think, “wow, I want to look like that again.” Now, I think about photos of me now and I see how I feel and refuse to let me brain open that window of comparison to younger me.

I was asked on Let’s Talk Running podcast recently why I created Restore Relays (@restorerelays). In reflection, the deeper meaning behind that is probably because of this health journey.

Now, I see a lot of people in the running craze pushing for PBs, pushing for training and I did it too, for that dopamine hit, for the reaction when I said my PB, for the self-fulfillment of winning races.

Then, when I took part in different kind of “races”, more adventure-centred-people-filled events, I actually felt more elated.

Of course, you can do the former properly, eating properly, exercising in a balanced way and loving racing. For me, the end of my training programme came with a sort of crash, a crash that unbalanced me.

Events like Restore Relays have actually made me check in with my body, “do I enjoy this?”

If not, why am I doing it?

What is sustainable for me?

More research has been done on erectile dysfunction than it has on menopause and perimenopause, that just about sums up female health.

Hopefully by opening this conversation I give you permission to take part in things for fun, to enjoy it and to love your body for it’s movement. It’s a journey but if you ever want to ask me questions or share your experience drop me a comment / DM.

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Teams where you push through and scream at each other and maybe have a bicker, but mostly just laugh and collapse in relief when things happen.

Running is everywhere, there’s a 10km, a 21km, there’s a two day London Marathon???? There’s new shoes, glasses, hats, it’s a RUNNING TAKEOVER. Tbh I’m much more for that than skinny tok bombarding us or like…. the ozempic drug taking over my algorithm.

To me, running, I could say that everyone can do it, it’s just one foot infront of the other but it means much more than that. There is a bigger purpose there.

We are different ages, religions, genders, nationalities and we all get together and show up. I really think our team represents what running can do, who it can bring together and the way that sport has the power to make a platform like nothing else.

Two weeks ago I was in Slovenia, meeting the same (minus two) team members as I had met at the exact time the year before.

We arrived in the torrential rain, picking up the drenched team members in the campervan on the side of a Slovenian A-road, and all laughed as we bundled into what would be our home for the next 48 hours.

Laughed at the absurdity, laughed at the similarities as how we all found each other last year, and laughed at the ridiculousness that it was torrential rain for the beginning of our trip.

We ran, cycled, drove across Europe. To be quite honest, I didn’t even do that much running. In fact, I think I have more photos of me in sports kit than of the miles I ran.

That was the biggest challenge for me. I wanted to take part, I wanted to help everyone out ,but doing so was going to really damage me for a long time. When 3 weeks out, I said to the team, “I am injured I think I can run maximum half of my designated stint”… and the response I recieved was, “come anyway.” That’s when I saw what a team is. We are all there for each other. They messaged me saying that I was such a part of the team, I had to come.

So there I was, at the start line with that group of people.

An adventure that took us to calling a couple of lost teammates in the forests of Croatia, to losing a few more teammates who went looking for them, to driving 20% gradient incline gravel roads in a 3.5 tonne camper (don’t recommend).

It took us to a not-so-clear lake swim, to deserted towns with unleashed guard dogs chasing us at 3am. It took us to the smells of wild rosemary at the foot of the Croatian mountains at 7am. It took us to rebonding over cartons of apple juice, to too many packs of loo roll’s used, it took us to singing Kylie Minogue, to searching for open bakeries and regretting eating bureks. It took us to claiming we were fine while limping through 1km segments. Most of all, it took us to the finish line, of diving into glassy water, dousing ourselves in suncream and falling asleep over fresh seafood by the ocean. It took us to laughing over retrospective stories and sketchy moments.

Physically and mentally exhausted, yet a team.

A team that had to dig deep when everyone was injured.

A team that had to change roles last minute.

That feeling at the end, even if it is slightly less emotional second time around. It still is a highlight of my year. It is something that brings me closer to a real RANDOM BUNCH OF PEOPLE in the most amazing way. To have to hold back from being able to run very much was really tough, when all I could see was the struggle. Standing back sometimes is the best way to see things differently. And supporting with logistics and driving was the best way to see how this team just battle through. How we can have a laugh on no sleep, lost teammates, overgrown forests, dangerous unintended offroading. And how, ultimately, we get to the end knowing that we can do it.

It also made me realise how crazy we all are???? Choosing to do this???

When I say a random bunch of people I really mean it, most of us are in Berlin, but also the UK, we span 5 different nationalities, different generations (nearly - those who know will probs hate me for writing that) but we do have Millenials, Gen Z and Gen X so that’s pretty COOL. I think maybe that’s also why we have so much fun? We all just get together and think, OFF WE GO.

We also raised nearly €1000 for The Running Charity which makes it all feel so worth it too.

So, this article is a shout out to everyone in that team that I ran with from Slovenia to Croatia two weeks ago, you’re the best!!!

If these give you a glimmer, a smile, a chuckle and you could share €5 a month to keep the keys typing, I’d be very appreciative <3

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It’s been a year since I left my corporate job to enter a bubble of complete uncertainty. Uncertainty about how I was going to earn money, how I was going to live, where I was going to live. To some, I just went travelling.

To be honest, one year ago I decided that in exactly one year from that moment I would be able to answer all of the above questions.

Newsflash: I can’t.

But I have realised that I think that is a continous question that comes up throughout life.

The last year has taught me to be okay with that, to regulate the uncertainty and to work it out. Do I wish I could see a paycheck that slight resembled the corporate days? Of course. Do I wish I could just click my fingers and be exactly in that scenario with the answers? Not really, but soon, yes.

The last year made me more in touch with myself, my boundaries, my joys, my environment and the exact people who’s energy make me feel alive. I know who I want to be around and I am more protective than ever of giving my energy to others. As a once-upon-a-time people pleaser and “yes” girl to every social situation, this feels prettttty monumentus to say one year later.

I know exactly the life I want to live going forwards. I have come to accept that maybe that life can’t happen immediately, or maybe it can in small chapters rather than one continous book.

I’ve been between places for the last 6 months, having given up my flat in Berlin and answered the MANY people who asked, “where are you going? where are you based?” with the answer “I’ll find out but I have to live by the sea.” Now, from a desk in Portugal, it almost feels coincidental that this marks a year since I left the corporate world. The huge amount of privilege and hard work that allowed me to do that in June last year probably saved the last years of my 20s for me. That sounds pretty dramatic but only on the other side, have I seen just how unaligned a lot of my life was living in a big city and just which pillars of life I have to focus on to feel fulfilled.

I don’t normally do a list of things in these articles, I more like to write a big stream of consciousness so that you know it’s my brain pouring out onto a page or that AI didn’t amend my waffle into coherent bullet points.

This article is an exception:

1. Do the things that I love, follow my values and I will find my people wherever I am

I always thought that I had to live in a big city to be sociable, that I had to be doing the big career to feel happy and successful, and of course there are major advantages of both and those sides of me are still very much there. But actually being in a smaller place, working in something much more purposeful and impactful gives me so much more fulfilment than getting a promotion did in my corporate life. Living in Kenya, meeting people creating incredible initatives for the younger athletes there was magnetising for me. The dream, of course, is for all those parts to interlink, that comes with patience.

The bestest of friends withstand time and distance. Watching my bestfriend get married this year and walking down the aisle before her, was an incredible reminder of that (@lydiarosebp). Seeing another bestfriend in Portugal and fitting in our 100 activities gave me a rock of gratitude for the incredible lifelong friends I have.

I now put myself in places where I am my whole me, where there is no masking, where I just hold who I am and I live it. The kind of people who laugh as I spill chia seeds across the whole kitchen rather than make me feel like I need to embarassingly sweep them up at 100 mph to pretend I have it all together. It’s the rawness of reality.

2. Patience is an underrated skill (I am still **** at it but I have had more long term patience than ever before in my life)

I always thought it would come quick, one day I just leave my job, I live by the sea and I work in a business that positively impacts the society that we are in. I have enough to live on, I am surrounded by love, we walk through each others houses with open doors and there’s a community of fun and trust. Evenings are spent at beach campfires and my family are close enough to live with through the stages of life.

Maybe I am a naive ideallist or maybe, this is coming for me. I knew that leaving Berlin was the first step I had to do to get close to this, I of course, thought I could make it happen quicker. On the way, I have learnt patience, learnt to enjoy the journey, of leaning into creativity, of meeting people from so many different backgrounds, I have learnt that I have to put myself every day in that life that I dream of.

Amazingly, I feel like I have really lived that life for much of the last 6 months and most significantly in the last two. It’s amazing how quick you can meet people who make you feel at home, when you are open to it.

3. Time means nothing in the impact that people can have on me

As I was leaving Berlin, I met Camilla who was on a similar change to me and had just left Copenhagen for Morocco. Her soul inspired me to be living in line with mine too, it gave me that reassurance.

Or Andrea, who I spent much longer with and brings this positive vitality to everything that she does in a balanced and loving way.

Or Isaiah, who is dedicated to make changes for the next generation of athletes in Iten.

Or Kolly and Clare, who bring fun to absolutely everything that they do, no matter how serious the topic. Just have a laugh. Not only that but they really are changing things for the next generation, they are talking out, they are calling out and they are making new positive paths for so many women.

Or Mila, who has been in a long distance relationship for YEARS and is currently studying in Cairo, 1000s of miles from home, completing her PhD, her passion, yet making all of her relationships work.

There are so many people that I could mention here but it is a serious reminder that the length of time spent with someone does not reflect the deepness of the connection or impact.

4. I love the sea and one day I will be a great surfer (manifesting energy at it’s peak)

Also takes a lot of patience. I have never liked something that I am not good at before. The thing is I am LEARNING (that learning curve is slow, but I am still obsessed with it). The dream of living by the sea is not leaving me.

5. “Listen to your gut” is the hardest phrase to put into practice

If someone tells you to listen to your gut and you have no where to start then, take 20 breaths, pick an answer and see how you feel. That’s my new technique. For me it comes up most, when someone says “do you want to join us doing this?” I’ve always been someone who builds connections pretty easily, but I have got MUCH better at deciding how much energy I want to give different people. Listening to my gut helps decide where to put my energy. As soon as I meet people that feel like home, that’s when listening to my gut is like, BAM, got it.

6. Asking others for their opinion is actually a decentring from myself

Only allowed to do it 3 times a week. Changed my life.

7. Appreciate the right now, because some cycles are shorter than others

Some cycles aren’t chosen, some times things out of our control mean that things have to change. That cycles have to reach a new phase. A bit like the menstrual cycle? And in each cycle I change a little, I learn something, I take something new. I have a sense of appreciation for each little chapter that I stack.

There’s chapters I literally wish I could make longer, add more words, create more pages. There’s chapters that I have been able to reopen and come back to, value more and realise how much that chapter needs to be a whole book.

8. Kindness is the most important trait in whoever I surround myself with

I have had such a headstrong approach to everything, that I can just sort it, that I don’t need help. How amazing things are when you make teams with the people around you, when I learn to accept help and learn to accept recieving.

9. I wanted to be the one who made jam with left over homegrown fruit, that made home sauces, that created places out of love rather than dismissed it for the rush of 100 activities

I have a new sense of appreciation for the daily rituals, for the life of one step at a time. Like some kind of manifestation, yesterday the neighbour gifted us 20 homegrown nectarines. Today, I made jam. The pot kind of disintegrated because I only had a plastic one and then I needed to steralise it and turns out if you put boiling water in a plastic tub it disintegrates?? Who would have known??

Homemade to the core.

10. Being told that I inspire someone is the best compliment to recieve

It motivates me, by inspiring someone then maybe they do something new that makes them happier, feels more fulfilled and ultimately enjoys the beauty of life more.

11. I hate goodbyes

Goodbyes never get easier, especially when I don’t choose them and they just have to happen. I want to pack up my tribe of people around the world and carry them with me. I have started to reframe them, that’s something that Ben taught me: a goodbye, is often just a see you soon.

If I really want to see someone soon, I can make the effort to do it, soon could be a month, it could be a few more months, but it makes that reunion so special. That time apart also makes me realise the people I really do want to see soon.

And to anyone that I have met in the last 6 months, or the last year, you have changed my life, maybe in a small way, maybe in a bigger way, but this journey is my favourite chapter yet.

Yes, you guessed right. I am writing this deep in my luteal phase with hard PMS whacking my introspective brain into philosophising every part of life.

The perk of the menstrual cycle = dedicated writing phases?

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Everything about this article would have made me cringe 6 months ago but I am taking the word proud and running with it.

If it doesn’t make sense, well, at least it means that you know I didn’t type this into AI with the prompt “make coherent thoughts out of this stream of random consciousness.”

Before we dive into the incoherent diary scramble, a little scene setting (as all stories begin with some context, right?)

It’s the day before the first edition of Restore Relays.

I created Restore Relays to bring together strangers for a team relay up the Camino from near Porto to Santiago de Compostela, designed to give others the confidence to try new challenges.

ANYWAY, so there I am 2pm the day before the first event and I get a call from a local number, “I am at your front door delivering the parcel, there is 2 minutes left on the wait time.” I am literally driving around the corner trying to find a parking space. “WAIT, I will run, I am parking the car!” I scream.

Car ditched on the side of the road, half on the kerb. I sprint up the 20% gradient hill (slight exaggeration) in my flip flops and beach trousers.

This parcel is the all important branded flag which has been rescheduled 2 times already. This flag is not going to the delivery depot I decide.

Sprinting to the top of the hill I meet the delivery man and get the important parcel.

Final logistics complete and very much in need of some sea grounding time, I head off around 5pm to get my car and drive to the beach.

It’s not there. I get to the exact place I parked my car and it’s not there.

My immediate assumption? The rental car has been stolen.

Google Maps tells me “you parked near here,” I’m not being stupid.

I stand, I take some deep, deep, deep breaths. The card holder with all of my cards in is going to be hassle, I can get a new rental car for the event but what on earth do I do about tracking and getting insurance cover on a stolen rental car?!

I ask a guy nearby if he’s seen anything. Next minute he’s calling the rental car company for me. Me and a friend ring the police, the police tell me to speak to the Tourist Office Police.

Quickly they tell me, maybe, your car was stolen by the police?

I am slightly shocked. What do you mean? It’s been towed for bad parking.

GREAT.

This is the best outcome I could have hoped for.

It did however, teach me that a) when I am criticised for my parking I should listen, b) nothing is ever worth the rush of sprinting up a hill.

A few hours later, we did indeed make it to the beach for some well-needed night-before grounding.

The event happened, we hosted the first participants for 3 days and 2 nights. We cheered them at checkpoints, we helped prepare them, we celebrated the end.

Now on to the diary scramble of consciousness. If you’re still following, thank you.

I am so so tired.

I am proud it’s happened.

There are things I wish hadn’t happened.

But I am proud of 70%

Pride is a word I have always been sceptical to use before, it feels boasty, it feels “in your face” but it is a word I have become more accepting of, I love it when I hear people being proud of what they have done, said, created, shared.

I am proud.

That’s a big number, 70%.

I have many many questions for myself but I am proud.

I think the car being “stolen” the day before was the most insane part of the whole adventure.

In a weird way the car thieving event made me more prepared; it tested how I reacted to the unexpected, the unplanned, the things out of my control.

I also think that driving 35 hours and hosting was a pretty stupid insane part of this whole adventure - first lesson learnt.

The perks: I think Restore Relays is bringing more people to me that I would love to share similar adventures with. There’s people who have been inspired to do similar events again.

Creating the things I wish existed for myself, brings me closer to people who are aligned with my values and who challenge me in the most positive way

I have an immense sense of gratitude of beautiful people in this world. Emilie joined to support me for the whole event, she slept in the car, she reorganised the car, she led our night before grounding, she asked me questions and made me think of options, possiblities, changes in a way that was calming and thought provoking. Her presence and willingness to be a part of the journey completely voluntarily, was an incredible addition to the whole event.

The event showed me that there’s a stunning country here, that most people only see corners of. Seeing places in different ways create new memories and new perspectives. Although, some of the highways at 3am I really don’t want to see again.

The impact that I can have on people is the best reward I could ask for, if one person is inspired to do something new because of joining Restore Relays, I am happy

One of the participants had only ran with others twice before, another had never considered doing an ultra and has now signed up to 50km in a months time. Another runs maximum 8km a week and here they were, running 200km in 48 hours in a team relay.

It’s been a very slow recovery from the lack of sleep, the pasta, ice cream, peanut butter, sweets, coffee concoction. In the midst of that recovery, the feedback forms came in from everyone. This is the hardest things I have ever sent out, to ask for constructive criticism on something I have created can so easily hit me so personally. I had to give myself constant reminders that I asked for the criticism, I asked for these points, I asked so that I can learn.

Again, I am proud I did that. And some of the reflections and comments made me cry (in a good way) at just how impactful some of the participants found it. Of course there were negatives, there were points that helped me more than I thought. They validated the thoughts that I had about future events, they also made me aware of topics that I had not given as much attention to.

Pride is my word for May. I’ve cried this month more than I think I have my whole life????

One of my strengths is that I can connect people from different backgrounds and I can create an atmosphere that feels welcoming and gives space for people to be honest

This week I recieved 2 of my favourite whatsapp notifications yet. One was a selfie of two of the participants who had just met up for a run in Brighton, another from someone telling me that Restore Relays inspired them to sign up for a 50km ultra.

This month has really shown me that accepting support also brings me closer to the people that will continue lighting up the path ahead. I used to find it hard to say yes, I used to be the “no, I’ll do it” person. Actually, things are better when I say yes to offers. I have taken the new attitude that I have to assume people are being genuine when they are offer. If they didn’t want to, they wouldn’t offer.

I’m on a continous mission to be aware when people congratulate me, when others want to share what I am doing, want to collaborate with me. Why? Because these are the people that I learn from, that spur me on, motivate me and show me what is possible in the valuable seconds of life.

Also, a little reminder, that things don’t need to be huge to celebrate them. I don’t need to organise a 200 person event to be proud. I am proud of creating a positive journey for 5 people and that is everything.

Restore Relays: @restorerelays (instagram)

www.restorerelays.com

UK & Portugal dates Summer 2026 TBA!

While we see videos and photos of everyone screaming, rooms full of people squashed screaming at Korir, at Sawe, at Assefa, at Obiri, at Jepkosgei, what we don’t see is, Sylvia who doesn’t follow it and doesn’t know who’s running, at Kiprop who happily missed it, of the people who aren’t involved.

Sport brings people to this town, for tourism, for income opportunities, for running, by birth. For so many reasons. Yet, here in the Home of Champions there are people who don’t involve themselves in following. I admire these people.

They are the people who I like to speak to, mainly because I learn new things about the world, new perspectives and I know that in their own way, these people often have interesting opinions. They don’t follow running just because they live in Iten, they don’t cheer in packed rooms for a sub-2 hour marathon winner just because everyone else is. They do what they want, what they like, what they think and they don’t follow the crowd.

One of these people, who I won’t name, said to me she didn’t like a recent marathon winner because he often came to local races just to win the money. To her, this man could race anywhere in the world (and has), yet by racing locally he removes the opportunity for rising stars to be seen and to earn money through it.

There is a lot to learn from the people not in the sheep herd.

Especially on the day of the London Marathon, it made me think. Would I care this much if I wasn’t here, in Iten?

The answer was yes. I would care but would I be celebrating and talking about it quite so much? No, probably not.

There is an infectious energy about people with a shared passion, showing so much emotion for something, together. This togetherness is what I have been so intrigued by and it is this togetherness that has made me mesmerised by watching the Kenyan elites on the big screen with their training partners next to me. In a sport that is so individualistic, to watch Korir, for example, cheer Sawe not even a week after his own course record was celebrated, is admirable.

Well, he nearly didn’t even see it.

How to make friends anywhere in the world

Spoiler: Hold the TV remote

The last 5km of the London Marathon the very TV that Korir was screaming at (alongside another 100 people) went into standby mode. My inner control freak was about to leap over tables and grab the TV control from the opposite side of the room. Instead the control was passed person by person across the room until it reached the sensor and ONE SECOND (I wish this was just an exaggerated figure of speech) BEFORE THE WHOLE TV WENT INTO STANDBY it was saved. The TV stayed on and the absolute roar that vibrated throughout the room on that sub 2 hour clock viewing was incredible.

There I was being swarmed by screaming and not one single person guessed that that would be the time. Then, streets filled with people talking, huddles gathering, it is this energy that sport is incredible at.

Want to make friends anywhere in the world? Support a football team (or watch the marathon…)

ft. me fangirling in a red scarf in John Korirs video #goals

The big question

As Korir finished the Boston Marathon, it was announced he had won a course record. Elated, he sprung into the air and then bam, a sign that said $50,000 course record.

Imagine a doctor doing a life saving surgery and then having their paycheck plastered on the TV to millions of people around the world.

Imagine if the winner wasn’t safe or didn’t have the security in place for their return home. What if, that announcement had just put a huge

I’m not saying that’s the case for Korir’s win, but running is unique. You can type in prize money, average earnings and there, everyone can see how much a runner earns. The transparency online for major races is incredible. Incredible in a good way or a bad way?

I guess the flip side is the age old story of bad management. Where management takes the prize money and the athlete gets nothing. By announcing it on TV, there is more transparency, there is more agency for the athlete to be treated to a fair proportion of their earnings.

I just keep thinking… surely there’s a better way? Any ideas please let me know. I’m thinking.

Will keep thinking and stop writing.

For me, it’s 100% clumsiness.

So, when you ask me why am I prepping dinner an hour before I need to. The reality is that.

I always wanted to be the girl that you walk in to their house and you find the homemade peanut butter, the homemade sauces, the kiln jars stacked on the shelf with fresh herbs from the garden. The one who cooked homemade flatbreads on a Wednesday evening and lit candles to enjoy the minor moments that are light, cosy and homely without a grand gesture or party.

And you know what. I think I am getting there.

The candles, the fresh herbs, the local fruits or vegetables that I try, the homemade peanut butter, the sauces.

I had friends for dinner on Friday and I made chapati. In they come, and comment on the smells of warm dough.

You know, it all seems great. Then, as I’m on a mission to be HONEST, to unmask because we aren’t all perfect, I tell them the journey of the flatbread. It’s a good’un.

The reason for starting cooking an hour before I need to? The clumsy mess looks a little more tidy, occupied, put together.

The things my friends didn’t see:

• The scolds on my fingers from turning homemade chapati on a cast iron pan

• The burn on my arm when I forgot that the handle of the pan would be searing hot

• The pool of flour I spilt over the floor as I moved my elbow too visciously while mixing the dough

And the best of all…

• The small fire under the pan that didn’t go when I turned the gas off. The small ember became a small fire and in complete confusion of the moment as to how to put out the fire on my gas stove (to give some context the whole house is made of wood, so a small fire could very quickly become the burn down of the whole house), I of course rang my dad.

It doesn’t matter how old I am, or what continent I am living on, emergency situations always require calling dad. Still a much, much quicker alternative to asking Chat GPT or using common sense.

My friends arrive, theres half a flour bag on the side. Dirty utensils everywhere. It may look chaotic, but they have absolutely no idea.

Food tasted great, if I say so myself.

A while ago I wrote about authenticity. Here it is.

The unmasking.

Keeping it real.

Maybe I make homemade flatbreads and sauces and use fresh ingredients.

Maybe I also have a few scalds on my arm and near-misses.

So, I started a fire. Let’s get all literary and metaphorical and also say that I’m burning the “it’s not mature, I have to hide this trait” theory. Stay tuned.

To be quite honest, it was one of those days when I just didn’t want to speak to anyone. But, Andrew said hello, so I replied.

Walking out of Volare Sports camp, we have a chat. He asks what I am doing here and I said I’m running, a half-laugh came out of him. I’m not quite the elite athlete build that runners are used to seeing around here. Not elite, I quickly caveat as if I have to make an excuse for the fact. I’m writing too, I tell him. I can get quite coy about it, the response is so mixed. People get curious, inquisitive, as if I am prying on everyone’s life in a simulation noting down how many steps they take.

He has just come back from pacing at Seoul Marathon. We pace up to 30km, he tells me. Now, it’s time to recover from the race.

I explain a little more about my writing, what I am doing.

Then I ask him, what is the impact of running? He tells me, it’s about being consistent and having a supermind.

He tells me this outright, very quickly. The question to him is absorbed as the tools needed for successful running.

Supermind? I question.

Yes, you need to be super focused, you have to have a supermind.

It’s interesting, how I sit here typing away, thinking that his answer to me question would have been, opportunity, fitness, running, and to him it is about the exact tools required to be successful in running. Sometimes I guess I go in too naively, and that’s what asking this question spontaneously has taight me. That I can see the impact of running, I can see the tourist industry created, I can see the expansion of the town of Iten, I can see the inspiration, I can see the athletes, the coaches.

Actually, the very answer to a question, is what I cannot see.

A supermind.

He’s so right. I have thought about his answer so much.

A supermind from running or a supermind to run?

And maybe there is no answer to that part.

Maybe, it’s both or maybe it’s neither.

Maybe the two words are synonymous. Running | Supermind.

What do you think?

I asked him, what are the side effects of running?

Patience, and sometimes it’s negative; you have injury, you don’t perform well. There are negative side effects.

It was a brief conversation, but I immediately saw what is top of the mind of an elite athlete, the need for a super mind, focus, patience and the pressure of performance.

I guess it was the flip side to the “community” that I have seen through other running initiatives.

A supermind, though.

I guess we all have a different amount of power.

That’s probably the first thing that, if you are like me, you think as you read this.

Today I met Emmanuel.

Emmanuel noticed that there are many kids running in the local forest without the right gear, shoes, clothes.

One by one, Emmanuel has collected these kids to form a team.

Every week, three times a week this group comes together.

On Saturday, Emmanuel has his own long runs so cannot be there, but the group still run their 8km target.

The young people go for strength training, they go for track sessions, they go for long runs. They also have fun.

There is a bond in this group that I watch as we take part in skipping games for hours.

Becky, the team captain, is 14 years old. She leads a mixed team of 13 people.

She has responsibility.

She shows up.

She speaks confidently infront of her team mates.

She is in charge of divvying up any newly collected kit.

She has an air of authority that is respected, but she is also friends with her team mates. A challenging balance.

Emmanuel drives the Team Emmanuel matatu around Eldoret county, he collects young people from their houses and brings them to the training ground when they don’t show up.

Emmanuel in the holidays meets up with the group of young people every single day to train them.

These are young people between 8 and 16 years old.

Some are maybe runners but some maybe not so much.

What is clear when Emmanuel talks, is that the effect of movement, of consistently bringing together this group, has also meant that they are inspired, motivated and energised in other parts of their lives. Their results at school have increased substantially, Emmanuel tells me later.

I feel that what Emmanuel is showing here, is the power that we have in bringing people together. young, old, whoever they may be.

There is an immense power in the effect of bringing people together.

Emmanuel himself, goes out of his way to give everything to these young people.

Mama Kowoto is saved a tracksuit because of how much she supports the group.

The effects of what he is building is massive and it is really felt.

It is felt by the young people running through the gates to Becky’s garden, where Jeremiah, her father, has allowed the group to meet. Jeremiah watches the young people when Emmanuel cannot make it.

It is felt when they all skip together, in a place where age and gender is not looked upon.

Today, this group of people that train together, Team Emmanuel, recieved new matching Team Emmanuel kit.

This team have turned up and trained together for over 2 years.

Commitment and consistency, I was told by Paul on my morning jog, is what makes you a good runner.

Maybe these two elements also make you fulfilled.

These young people have turned up every single week, all 16 of them. Today, their faces when they recieved the matching kits hit deeply.

These young people didn’t turn up for the last 2 years because they knew about the tracksuits.

They turned up because of the benefits that coming gave to them.

There is an inspiration here that goes beyond running.

The unknown reward of turning up, of making bonds with people aligned with who you are.

Emmanuel taught me how running can be used to empower.

He told me he is inspired by Bush, Obama, they started small, they inspired others, they led, the spoke to audiences, they wrote books. Their effect was much larger than they knew it would be when they first started.

I am not 100% what I am trying to say but maybe it’s a lesson to myself.

He taught me that I have the power to make a difference, at a scale that is realistic to me. so do you and bringing people together, inspiring, motivating and showing what is possible, is one way that I and you and we can do this.

Being visible is a challenge that I wrote about months ago. I wrote that this was my time to be visible. Not to hide in the dustpits of AI gloop but to keep my voice. To not be swayed into the comments of others and instead to associate with my thoughts, with what I stand for, publicly.

I do feel in many ways that I am getting better at that, I did publicly post on Linkedin about the first edition of an event I am hosting in Europe.

Linkedin, hated by many but so powerful when used right. The corporate tool of our social media. I actually have a guilty secret that I am a bit obsessed with it... It’s so interesting to read the minds of entrepreneurs, people, I don’t know why, this business brain of mine loves it.

Typing on there, honestly, to announce the event that I am organisng in May felt like a major milestone. Every single person in the corporate world that I have ever networked with is on my feed on LinkedIn, so to say “this is what I am doing,” clearly, really scared me.

Why?

It’s something that I have mentioned before, but my self-judgement completely overrules with this kind of thing. No one actually cares. Actually, a very senior woman who mentored me in my very early corporate days commented on the post to say that I was really inspiring **adds that to list of “read when you doubt yourself” notes.**

Don’t get me started with instagram. Reposting the link from the event instagram on to my own instagram triggered another I DON’T WANT TO BE VISIBLE MOMENT. Maybe it feels like bragging? Or I feel like I am asking too much of friends or people that I know?

Maybe it’s because I feel guilt that I am able to take this time to create things that I am really passionate and aligned with?

Maybe it’s that I am trying so hard not to feel like I have to “achieve” to be happy, to unlearn thought patterns, that I don’t want to show anything that I am creating?

I have come to realise that maybe, achievement is in some way a part of me. If that achievement creates a positive impact on other people then it is a collective achievement rather than something that feels more egoistical. It is measured on the impact of others rather than a personal achievement that just continues to drive the “what next” syndrome.

What is the secret to being more comfortable with visibility?!

It’s taken a lot of reframing and I am really trying to set a daily reminder.

The reason that I wanted to create this event is because of the impact that challenges have on ME. Because of the confidence it gives to ME. And if anyone I know, or anyone that someone else knows can experience that or can have that feeling, then WOW. We are going to have one more confident, empowered and happier person.

Yet, still putting my face on something so personal feels so hard. Even putting a photo of myself, zoomed out, in the event information deck felt really exposing.

I have voices from different parts of my life telling me to be more visible, to share what I am doing, that they want to hear about the messy middle, the working it out, the experimenting.

I met with a best friend recently after some months, where I was exploring the impact of running in the Home of Champions, Kenya. She said to me, “your life is SO interesting for me. I just sit behind a desk all day. I want to see it. Where is all this? I want to see photos. I want to see writing. I want to see it all.”

I sat there thinking, well, actually I did post one photo last week on my instagram story. She almost laughed in my face. It feels like I am bragging “look at what I am doing,” when in reality, is anyone actually thinking that? They actually don’t care! Why should they?!

In reality the day is me running around, talking to inspiring athletes, walking in nature, writing, contacting every outlet under the sky, networking across the whole of Linkedin and someone-who-knows-someone to create a life I am determined to live. What you don’t see: the doubt; the financial fears, of course; the fear of being so exposed and visible online also known as the fear of judgement.

That friend was right though. If I am honest, it doesn’t have to be egoistical. If I am creating the media, the writing, the photos, then I am also in control to make sure that nothing comes across like a brag. If I don’t succeed by fear of being visible and sharing my work, then, silly me really.

So much of me wants to show it, yet there is a doubter, a self-critic, a “who do you think you are” voice that I am swiping out. There is also definitely a “I don’t look good in that photo, I don’t want to show myself” voice that is very loud. I think that is something that the last few months has made me realise. That is what I am going to battle out, after all, I am real. Too much consuming of ideallism is good for no one.

What am I trying to say?

To me it always feels easier to write, to translate my thoughts into the pressing of keys that appear on a white screen. Perhaps there’s a dissociation on that. If anything the last 6 months has taught me, it is, the more I associate, the more I connect, the more impact is possible. It’s time to just get on with it. To recognise the doubts, the thoughts, to just keep trying to be more visible.

Ironically, this has turned into a very raw and honest account from someone who struggles to be visible.

If you have a secret about getting over this, ANY tips are welcome.

Ft. a photo of me slowly becoming more visible from behind the laptop.

read my writing about community and running here: www.the-community-project.com

event instagram: @restorerelays

I want to be a carpenter.

I want to fix my running shoes and glue the sole back together for the final miles.

I want to paint on canvases.

I want to paint across walls and hold memories in the abstract paint splatter.

I want to fix water pipes.

I want to repair old machines.

I want to make my own furniture.

I want to plaster a wall.

I want to sew together clothes I’ve had for 10 years and make them great again.

I want to be a carpenter and make goods for everyone.

I want to create.

I won’t be baking cakes or muffins or cookies because I honestly can’t do one without burning them, but I want to be practical.

I am already doing a lot of creating, I see that, I paint and draw and write but there is this urge to create, to do things myself.

Honestly, I heard this is the year that we all go analog?

Like, I heard we will all write letters instead of whatsapp messages this year? 2026!! I GET IT, I love letters but you definitely are still going to be inundated with whatsapp messages and new group chat invites from me.

You will still occassionally recieve a handwritten letter from me. If you do, it’s special.

But, I just see my brain shrink and muffle and mould staring at a screen or moving to my phone, so I am going to be a yes person when I see anyone doing something I want to learn.

Yesterday I helped a builder plaster a wall for 10 minutes because I asked. Pretty easy, eh? Didn’t hire me though.

I want to make something where it doesn’t matter the size or if it works. Just to do it.

Although I guess, if I want to fix water pipes and make furniture, it kind of… has to work.

My most recent painting I gifted to my parents who have now hid it in my old bedroom so I guess that counts as creating without expectations.

So watch this space.

It’s not the year of analog because to me analog is like an analog clock face.

It’s the year of using hands to do things humans can do.

Maybe I’m not going to actually call myself a plumber, a carpenter, but I’m going to use my hands and refresh my brain and MAYBE I’LL BE A CARPENTER?

Maybe.

But in light of not thinking too much about WHY I feel this, I can only confirm that there is one train station in the UK that actually feels sentimental to me. London Euston.

Yes, really.

When I used to live in London it was the place I’ve ran to to meet family visiting.

It’s the place I’ve ran to to get the train to my family home when I’ve really just needed some fresh air and muddy trail runs.

It’s the place I’ve cried when I’ve had a bad day at work.

It’s the place I’ve arrived exhausted at and looked forward to a 2 hour sleep on an aisle seat with stuffed crisp packets down the side.

It’s the place I’ve stood, thinking… “ah, my phone charger, yep left it in the wall.”

It’s the place I’ve heard hungover people chatting about a casino night.

It’s the place I’ve seen a little girl waving a sign reading “we love you poppy” as another 4 year old screams and runs towards them, Mum chasing quickly after.

I have sat on the tables outside when my train has been cancelled, meaning my surprise 24 hour trip to home for my Mum’s birthday couldn’t go ahead.

And most importantly it seems to be that everyone in that station gets on a train to Crewe. Honestly, as soon as the board announces the platform the whole place empties, it’s a mad scurry, cutting corners quicker than Keely Hodgkinson around the 800m (shoutout to Keely for the most insane WR last week).

It’s the place I get fashion tips on Sunday looks.

I feel like I have seen it through different phases of life and everytime I go there I realise what mood I am in. It catches me off guard.

I quickly realise that I am chilled and laughing at people rushing around for a train that is not going to depart in 4 seconds (Crewe passengers take note), I quickly realise if I am extremely overstimulated and frustrated by someone dropping a bag on the floor and making a loud thud, I realise when I am jittery and sprinting around, it’s also where I realise that I am dehydrated and willing to pay £3.80 for a bottle of water.

Maybe it is because I have been there in all of these states, that I realise every experience I have had there is different.

From a young girl on advertising internships in London, to rushing through to visit friends for a couple of nights before hiding away back home in the countryside, to short trips for events, or going to visit family at the weekend. It has always felt a bit like this barrier between my social life and my family, work and leisure, intense and chilled.

Train stations feel like such a mix of emotions and people, going to different places or running from different places.

Can a train station be sentimental?

To me, London Euston has captured all of my phases, all of my thoughts.

All the thoughts of a girl who lived in London wanting to be running in the mountains, the thoughts of a girl living in London wanting to be breathing fresh air and swimming in the sea, a girl deciding whether to move abroad, a girl living in London questioning how does she do both? How does the train journey not feel like a release but not feel dreaded either?

I was recently there after a long time.

I paused as I stood there, no doomscrolling waiting for the platform announcement, no laughing at the people rushing around, no irritability at people barging past without speaking. I just stood there.

I stood there and I thought, isn’t it funny, coming back to the same place and realising how much you have changed? My environment affects me now more than I had ever thought it did 10 years ago when I worked in London for the first time. I didn’t know it then.

I know it now.

I quite like London Euston for teaching me that.

That station has not changed (and neither has the 2657 mph rush for the train to Crewe).

Without realising it, I slip back into old lessons of having a “set plan.” And the moment I do that, I start restricting myself from opportunities that don’t neatly fit inside it.

There is a worry deep inside me when I don’t see the next 6 months of a step by step plan on a timeline and I quickly notice this worry flowing into thought patterns of choosing a lifestyle similar to the one that I am choosing to unlearn because I have decided it does not work for me.

Everywhere online, every self-help book, every life improvement quote says “focus on one thing,” put all of your energy into one thing and it will work out.

So, the big question: Should I be focusing on one thing?

This question has been doing rings and rings and circles around my swirly head for so long.

I have found this really hard to answer.

I have thought about the one thing I can target.

I have done it 100% and then felt drained because it fills one cup.

Others cups, not filled.

I have almost been on a quest to find that “one thing.”

…it’s been a looooong quest.

And now. Today is the day. I am no longer asking myself that quetsion.

I am accepting that I like different things.

It’s all about framing, right? I could call it being distracted. Other people might say I like too much. Or I can say I’m multi-passionate (which feels much better to me).

Even saying that brings a sense of relief.

Like: it’s ok.

Don’t overthink thinking too much. Don’t overthink liking too much. Just do what you like and like what you like.

I have also realised I do need a little plan because for me, overwhelm comes when I have a mental long list all these things I want to do (it’s longer than Carrie Bradshaw’s shopping in Manhattan and much longer than Bridget Jones’ embarassing moment list).

For me, it’s better to categorise things into phases.

This phase I am going to explore writing my thoughts out loud online and the next phase I am going to write a book, for example.

It doesn’t need to all be at once. Yet, at the same time, different likes can co-exist. I can invest in my running again while also writing online, for example.

The approach I have decided on is moving away from these binary “this or that,” while recognising that too much of “that” can make me feel clustered and recognising at WHICH POINT “too much” is “too much.”

Having a zest for life, grabbing something and running with it, these are all a positive, reaffirming way of saying what the little negative voices have wittered at me or inside my head.

A whole part of this process, for me, is also recognising that when people say “that’s chaotic” or “wow, it’s too much,” this is their perspective. Perhaps, to other people, my boundary of what is “too much” is much beyond what is too much for them.

That’s okay too, but realising that is someone else’s perspective and not my feeling is equally important.

So here I am. Identifying my three focus points for this phase of life. The phase ends when I no longer feel inspired, learning, or fulfilled.

Those three factors are different for everyone. For me, learning fuels fulfillment and inspiration fuels learning.

Maybe it’s different for you?

The link with the photo? This is me, hiking, the place I feel inspired, motivated, I trust myself and listen to my gut.

Everyone is talking about loneliness.

My doomscrolling led me to an instagram account where a woman speaks to a new stranger every day and starts conversation with them in the middle of London. An interesting concept that makes me think great idea BUT how has it come to this?!

Being in an unknown place alone naturally invites us to speak to strangers first because we either a) need directions, b) need friends, c) need to understand. This need is often lost in the routine of familiarity.

I was sitting eating fish, fish I had found at the local fisherman port, guided by a friend from the area that I had met a few days before.

It was fish that I had never tried before and is now a top recommendation (dorado, if you’re interested).

I sat with friends eating, commenting on how great the food was. We commented on how much more food is enjoyed when it is new, where you have seen where it has been caught or grown, where you have put in hard work all day to cook.

A man came into the room to grab a glass of water, and we invited him to join.

As we sat there and heard his story, of how he had fled the violence in Sudan, of how he took a year to start his healing process, of how he didn’t speak to anyone, and how now, 3 years later he now calls this coastal town home.

He told us that he knows that when he goes to places he wants to go to he will find the right people.

He doesn’t call friends or people he knows before he turns up, he turns up with his photography and music and gives. He knows playing music, taking photos, this is what people need and what people want. It is what he loves.

We sat and listened to his story. Told with so much honesty and emotion that we felt so touched with what he had shared with us.

Then he started going through his backpack, it’s the backpack he takes everywhere, he told us.

In it: a matchbox from Sudan, a broken pair of glasses he bought when he moved 3 years ago to this coastal town, of his late grandmothers necklace, of the old car keys that he broke by playing with them, of the item he found on the road and painted and has no idea what to do with so just carries it around, of the usb for his dj sets. In so many ways, that backpack was full, yet it still had a lot of space.

We sat and listened to a beautiful story.

Speaking to someone new, inviting them in, feeling enriched.

After all, at what point do we have to stop waiting for permission to label ourselves?

This is not a “things that I learnt in 2025” or “my goals for 2026” because I want to feel.

I want to feel what it means to listen to my gut again.

I feel like so many of my goals in the past had drained me (yes, I am THE goal-orientated girl, with 5 goals at the back of her daily journal about what needs to be completed, with a checklist to track today’s productivity).

Goals can be great. Right now, I realised goals were giving me more pressure. As a highly self-critical person, I do not need more pressure of 5 big goals.

So I am not here to write and tell you all of my goals for next year.

I am here to listen to my gut.

What do I want? What feels right? What does my instinct say? Goals have clouded that for too long.

One thing I started doing this year was giving myself a word to stick by. This year it was patience buuuuut honey, patient I am NOT.

If you met me right now you would still not think I am a patient person BUT this year, I came back to this word time and time again. It made me calm(er) in times when I would have most definitely been much less calmer the year before.

The great thing about choosing a word?

You can’t measure it. You can’t say if it has been completed or not.

In fact, it is the EXACT OPPOSITE about everything we have been told. SMART Goals.

Now, let’s be real. Once a goal-orientated girl, always.

So yes, I know there are 1000 things I want to do and “complete” next year, but as a slight-realist, I am trying to half-unlearn; to be more present with what is happening now, rather than worry and doubt. To take the “what if it works?” mindset first.

For 2026, my word is connection. I know that by focusing on this word it will also help me to become more present.

As I explore communities around the world, I have written a short poem about the people I am meeting in Kenya:

Layered by Emily Colquhoun

Ugali brimming over pans and steam shining through the morning light,

Pineapple sliced, piled on one another

Groups are gathered, entering morning’s service, solo, groups, families, pairs,

Children are clapped as they bounce in trampolines within torrrential rain,

Carols bounce between strangers and friends sparked by communal faith,

Lost eyes are guided by the respect and kindness of warm-minded people.

Afrohouse beating through hip punching and finger shaking,

Electric energy dazzling between eyes and eyes,

Orchestral fire framing the music’s beating,

Magnetism of music flicking hair, making smiles,

Beating through the veins, through the hips,

Live orchestral fire, live sets pounding through us all,

As the dancing group gets closer and closer

Music is beating through our souls.

To uncover history is to be conscious, to consciously uncover,

What has been covered and is omitted throughout the walls,

The buildings, the paintings, the archives displayed for the public.

The public? Who is addressed? Who is recongised as public?

The ommission of parts, the centrism is glaring -

you must consciously uncover it.

If you are interested in hearing more about modern structural centrism, really recommend this book: No Place Like Home in a New City: Anti-Urbanism and Life in Nairobi by Bettina Ng'weno

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read my project about how people are connecting and building community around the world: www.the-community-project.com

The question was often, where to?

That’s a hard question to answer

When the uncertainty and the unknown is not giving clarity and a step by step plan I could not quickly reiterate

Or a future that I could not define

It was my own voice in my head prejudging what I was saying

You sound like you don’t know

When really inside I do know

That I am going to a place of outdoors and connection and nature

So, why is it so hard to answer?

Because a “place” infers a physical set place that I would be in for a while

Rather than a state of mind or purpose or mindset that I am grounded by

Now I have left, I realise that going to somewhere can also be a mental space

An intention

A way of being

That is not grounded in a physical set location

So next time when I know it’s time to leave, I will just leave without thinking about a place I am going to.

It’s better to end things, stop things, leave things when I know it’s time to go rather than waiting for an answer that I only find once I have left.