Why I Run: Searching for the Fire I Lost
My original story was published on Medium.
When I started my running journey three years ago, the simple act of running was, well, simple.
Uncomplicated. No pressure. No expectations.
Just me, my running shoes, and an unspoken promise to myself—to find something that made me feel lighter. Something that helped me process life in a foreign country.
But since my marathon debut back in November, something shifted. I no longer feel the same drive that once defined why I run.
Don’t get me wrong—I still love running. There isn’t a single part of me that wishes to give up on it. But somehow, I feel like I’ve lost my groove.
Sessions feel harder. Dragging myself out of bed for an early run feels like an impossible ask. Competition seems to scream at me from all angles—Strava, Instagram, running clubs, you name it. Everywhere I look, I see reminders of what I’m not.
Yes, I’m competitive.
Very.
With myself. With others.
It’s that relentless drive to prove that I’m capable. That I belong. That the things I push myself to do are worth something. But when I look around, I see others receiving recognition for half the effort I put in.
And yet, no matter how hard I try, I’ll never be as good as the runners who live inside my head. The ones who are always a step ahead. Fearless. Confident. Obsessed.
The thing is, I don’t think they overthink the way I do. They don’t get stuck in self-doubt, analysing their own shortcomings until the joy is sucked out of the very thing they once loved.
The Early Days: When Running Was Just Running
Back when I started in 2022, none of these thoughts existed.
I didn’t run to prove anything. I ran because I needed something—something that was mine. Something that would help me navigate my past, without the need for explanations.
It was an escape. A way to move forward when everything else felt stuck.
What started as a couple of 5K runs a week soon turned into 8K, then 10K, then six days a week. Eventually, I hired a coach. Because, you know, if you don’t have one, are you even a serious runner?
That’s when I started to scrutinise my progress—or lack of it.
To compare myself to others.
To fall short.
Every. Single. Time.
Three years later, and suddenly, everything I built feels undone. Like my progress was just a dream. Like my marathon debut somehow erased it all.
Why I Run—Or Why I Used To
As I write this, I’m two weeks away from another half marathon in Cyprus. And instead of feeling excited, I feel… nothing.
No fire. No motivation. Just an overwhelming sense of why does this even matter anymore?
I used to believe that running changed my life. That it made me better. Stronger. More resilient. And maybe it did.
But what if I’m just running to prove something?
To prove that I’m not a quitter?
To prove that I belong in this space? That I can keep up with the ones who push through freezing 5AM mornings without fail?
Because isn’t that what separates real runners from the rest? The ones who show up, no matter what?
I don’t know why I run anymore.
Maybe I started because I was trying to outrun my own thoughts.
Maybe I started because running became trendy, and I wanted to be part of the conversation.
Maybe I started because I needed a win, and for a while, running gave me one.
But somewhere along the way, I lost my why.
Or maybe I never really had one in the first place.
Lost Your Why? Let’s Figure It Out Together.
If you're questioning why you run, or feeling lost in the noise of competition, expectations, and self-doubt—you're clearly not alone. I’m with you.
I know what it’s like to push through the highs and lows, to chase a feeling that sometimes disappears the moment you think you've caught it. But, through my running journey, I’m learning that it isn’t just about races, paces, or proving anything to anyone. It’s also about finding yourself in the process.
And that’s what I help my athletes do. To not only train smarter, but run with intention.
If you’re looking for guidance, for structure, for a way to reconnect with the runner inside you, I’m here to help you figure it out.
