Day 3: Running Towards Something

9.3km in 49:17—an average pace of 5’18/km. Best km 4'51/km. Efficiency: 100%, training load: medium, training focus: threshold. Heart rate averaged 155bpm, maxing at 176bpm. Spent nearly 30 minutes in Zone 4, pushing the effort but still in control. No weakness in my legs, breathing felt good, but my hips… that’s something new. Maybe it’s the trainers. Maybe it’s the distance. Maybe it’s just part of the process. Either way, I’m still moving forward.

What Do Runners Think About?

But what do people actually think about when they run? Do they even think? Do they drown out the world with music, podcasts, or just let their minds wander?

I get bored so easily when I run. Always have. Way back in 2019, I used to listen to this one podcast over and over again—an interview with the founders of Frank Body. Jess Hatzis and Bree Johnson just talking about their journey, their brand, their struggles. It was real, raw, and honest. No pretense, no fake glamour. Just two women building something from the ground up, using words as their superpower. As a fellow writer, I felt that. Their voices became this steady rhythm, almost meditative.

I didn’t have the dog back then, so my runs were simple. Just looping the same streets, clocking the kilometers, finding peace in repetition. Sometimes I felt weightless, like I was flying. And I struggle to find a podcast that grips me like that now.

Music doesn’t work for me. And running without headphones? That’s when it gets confronting. When it’s just me and my thoughts, and I start digging into things I probably don’t want to unearth. A psychologist would have a field day with me.

Running, Reflection, and Connection

I’ve spent years trying to figure myself out—reading psychology books, analyzing case studies, picking apart my own behaviors. Maybe it’s as simple as growing up with my biological dad going AWOL. Maybe it’s deeper than that. I don’t know. But what I do know is that I struggle with connection. I overanalyze every social interaction. I feel emotions in extremes—rage one moment, overflowing empathy the next. I hate people, then one small gesture convinces me we’ll be lifelong friends.

I used to have friends. When I worked in my restaurant, before the weight of responsibility settled fully on my shoulders, I made friends. Then life got serious, and my circle got smaller. One friend moved to New Zealand. Two died. And then when I took life too seriously, I was lucky enough to have my super best friend—the one I loved the most, my funniest friend in the whole world. Right up until last year. And then… well, that’s… complicated. So now, it’s just me and the dog.

And we are running.

Running Towards, Running Away

We are running away from whatever it is that makes our chest feel like it’s going to explode. (Yes, the dog feels it too.)

We are running to find solitude. But when I say solitude, I mean the kind that comes from being too busy to think.

We are running to find chaos again—to settle the anxiety of separation from it. The high stress, the adrenaline, the feeling of being in control of something that mattered. Because without it, there’s this hollow space, this itch that can’t quite be scratched. The mind craves the rush, the urgency, the something to solve, to fix, to build.

We are running towards something, but also away from something else. The silence. The absence. The space where all the noise used to be. The constant movement, the urgent decisions, the daily fires to put out. Without them, the mind starts filling the void with thoughts, questions, what-ifs. Running is the one thing that quiets them.

We are running towards clarity and calmness. But when I say clarity and calmness, I mean finding it through control, through ownership, through building something great. Like my restaurant. We were the best. We led the industry. And that’s what I miss the most. That’s what I now understand about myself—I need to be busy. I need the high stress. I thought I didn’t. I thought nobody did. But some people are just wired differently, and I think I’m one of them. Because when I’m busy, when I’m in charge, I am somebody. I was somebody.

And this streak—296 days of running every single morning—is one of the reasons I’m still sane. Because if we don’t run first thing in the morning, who knows how the day will turn out?

The Marathon Goal: 242 Days to Go

And now, right now, we are running towards a marathon. (Well, I am. I don’t think they let dogs enter.) We are running towards that runner’s high. Where is it? Why do I not feel high yet? Maybe it will come with accomplishing something new—a further distance, a faster speed? Who knows, but there’s only one way to find out.

242 days until the marathon. 19th Feb to 19th Oct. (There’s something poetic about that symmetry—like the perfect training arc.)

And finally in a way, I’m also running to keep the memories alive. The belly laughs—oh, the belly laughs. I’ve never laughed so much in all my life, and laughing is my favourite thing to do.

Goodnight,

H x