After running the Cape Town Marathon, I knew I wanted to try again—this time with a little more preparation, a little more strength, and maybe even a bit more ease. That race had pushed me further than I’d ever gone before. I didn’t make it past the 4-hour cut-off at 24km, and looking back, it probably wasn’t wise to run that kind of distance without proper training. But still, I showed up. And something shifted in me that day.
It reminded me that I can do hard things. That nobody ever achieved something great by playing it safe or waiting for perfect conditions. Even when it’s not considered normal—or recommended—sometimes the only way to find out what’s possible is to try.
The West Coast Half Marathon was my next step.
I started the race about five minutes late, needing to collect my race number before crossing the line. But I wasn’t rushing. I had no goal but to finish.
Compared to Cape Town, this race felt more manageable. I’d been training more regularly—nothing extreme, but consistent enough to feel stronger. I had a plan that made sense for where I was: run-walk in intervals, stay hydrated, keep my energy steady. I knew what my body needed, and I listened.
The first 10km were hard. I had to find my rhythm again. My body needed time to adjust, and I could feel every step. But slowly, I settled into the pace.
The weather helped—cool, calm, no wind. The route was scenic, and the organisers had made an effort to keep it clean with dustbins at every kilometre, supporting the #RunClean message. The water stations were well managed, and the volunteers were friendly. It all created a calm, steady atmosphere.
Crossing the finish line wasn’t a dramatic moment, but it was meaningful. My husband and kids were waiting for me, and that alone made it feel complete. I received my medal, not as a symbol of speed or victory, but of showing up and following through.
I also ended up with a few personal bests:
– Half-marathon effort: 2:53:36
– 20k effort: 2:44:27
– 10-mile effort: 2:08:18
– 15k effort: 1:59:08
I wasn’t chasing times. But there they were. Quiet markers of progress.
This race didn’t need to be bold or emotional to be significant. It reminded me that growth is often subtle. It happens one quiet decision at a time. One kilometre at a time. One finish line at a time.
And it reminded me that I don’t run alone.
“But those who trust in the Lord will renew their strength;
they will soar on wings like eagles;
they will run and not become weary,
they will walk and not faint.” (Isaiah 40:31, CSB)
“I am able to do all things through him who strengthens me.” (Philippians 4:13, CSB)
From Cape Town to West Coast—different races, different outcomes. But one lesson remains: it’s not about finishing first. It’s about showing up, giving what you have, and trusting that it counts.
