WHY IT'S TAKEN ME 50 YEARS TO JOIN STRAVA.
I’ve lost count of the number of times people have asked me if I’m on Strava. My answer has always been some variation of “no”.
The real truth is rooted in a deep sense of fear…
Fear that people will see how slowly I run. Will see that running these ultra long runs isn’t always about running the entire distance at a sub 4 hour marathon pace. Will see that I strategically implement doses of walking so that I can intake food, change up the pressure on my body, navigate some highly technical terrain (never my strong suit!), hike up a pesky hill, or just talk with local communities and water experts (amazingly many of whom don’t see the attraction in running ridiculously long distances in often extreme heat or cold).
I’m afraid that the weird idea that people have that I’m some crazy good runner will be shattered, and that I’ll spark an inundation of criticism and negativity. Or that we’ll suddenly become so focussed on the running part of what I do, that we’ll lose sight of the real purpose behind it.
Probably not surprisingly I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about this. And yes I’ve talked about it too – with my team, my fabulously patient coach, my sports psych (she has an unenviable job!) and ultimately I’ve spent most of the time talking about it with myself. Trying to understand what drives this fear.
Because what I’ve realised is that this isn’t just about Strava. It’s about everything.
I’ve never been one of those people who are happily willing to put their hand up in a crowded room to ask a question, or to put their life on social media. I’ve looked with a mix of envy and horror at those who talk themselves up – who have an ability (and desire) to find a tiny nugget and have it suddenly appear like a goldmine. And despite the outward appearance of confidence when I walk on stage to give a speech or talk to the media, my insides are doing Olympic level backflips.
The one thing I know about all of this, is that it’s hurting the thing I care about most – and that’s my ability to deliver change. And that I can’t accept.
So this weekend I’m taking a massive leap of faith to embark on my Strava journey. To put myself out there. To be open and honest and vulnerable. I’m not naïve to think the journey will be easy. Far from it – if there’s one thing I’ve learned from many miles on the road, the best ones never are. But with the support of all of you, it’s a journey I’m willing to take. The destination is worth it.