On your marks

There was a time, not so long ago, when I genuinely believed that anyone who could run a 5K had to have been engineered in a lab, with perfect lung capacity and an unwavering sense of discipline. It certainly didn’t feel like something meant for me. I would constantly try on the treadmill and feel so disheartened when I could merely last five minutes.

It started, as many good things do, with saying yes before I felt ready. I joined a running club called 2stepcollective. I showed up with more nerves than stamina, quietly positioning myself at the back, already preparing to just “get through it.” I was content with being at the back, and I almost wanted to just walk home, but somewhere along that run, I noticed a T-shirt on someone ahead of me. It read: “Every pace has a place.”

I remember in that moment I genuinely smiled to myself and something shifted. I realised I didn’t have to be extremely fast, but I owe it to myself to at least try. It wasn’t about keeping up. It wasn’t about proving anything. It was about belonging.

And so, I kept going.

That first 5K? Oh my goodness, I wish I could bottle that feeling. When I stopped and checked my Strava, I was ecstatic. I remember immediately calling my boyfriend. Not long after, I ran up to a friend trying (and failing) to articulate the sheer joy of what had just happened.

Because for me, it wasn’t just about running 5K. It was about realising I could actually do it.

From there, Wednesdays became sacred.  Familiar faces turned into friends. Encouragement became mutual. And slowly, almost without noticing, running transformed from something I tried into something I genuinely loved.

Then life, in its beautifully complicated way, shifted again. My boyfriend signed for a team in Spain, and while I was so, so proud, I knew I would need something to shift my focus from missing him and I knew work alone wouldn’t quite fill that space. So I signed up for the Liverpool Half Marathon. Even typing that now feels surreal.

Training gave me structure. It gave me purpose on days that felt a little quieter. It gave me something that was entirely mine, while still connecting me to others in the most unexpected ways. Early mornings, midweek runs, shared laughs, tired legs…it all added up to something far bigger than the miles themselves. And somewhere along the way, running stopped being something I fit into my life.

Race day came, and with it a mix of nerves and gratitude. Every step felt like a quiet acknowledgement of how far I’d come. not just physically, but mentally. And when I crossed that finish line, with a new gal pal in hand, completing the half-marathon, it wasn’t just an achievement. It was a full-circle moment. Because trust me, if you told me last year I would be running a half-marathon, I would have laughed in your face and asked you if you were okay!

Always remember that, no matter where you are in your running journey, the fact that you’re out there giving it a go is the biggest achievement and Every pace has a place.

With Love always AAJ Xx