Dear Friend,
I almost didn't share this.
A little while ago, someone asked me what I do.
I paused for a long time. Not because I didn’t know the answer, but because there were so many possible answers.
I’m a mum to three beautiful kids. I lead a charity - the wonderful Love Mercy Foundation. I co-founded a business. I’m still trying to run fast enough to keep calling myself an athlete. Depending on the day, any one of those answers could have come out first.
As I drove home afterwards, I realised I’d spent years introducing myself by what I do. Maybe you have too.
For a long time, my life was measured in Olympic cycles and race results. Every few months there was another start line, another finish line, another opportunity to feel like I was moving forwards… or not. It was simple. If I raced well, life felt lighter. If I didn’t, it was harder not to wonder what it all meant.
I don’t think I realised how much of my identity had become tangled up in performance until performance was taken away. Injuries. Missed teams. Stopping to have each baby.
Then leadership arrived with its own scorecard.
Budgets. Decisions. Expectations. People counting on you. Problems that don’t disappear just because it’s five o’clock. It’s funny how easily we can swap one finish line for another.
These days, life is wonderfully full. School lunches. Board meetings. Working on a startup. Trips to Uganda. Long runs before sunrise. Dinner around the table. A toddler climbing onto said table while I’m answering emails.
It’s messy.
And if I’m honest, there are still days when I catch myself wondering if I’ve done enough. Been enough. Led well enough. Loved well enough. Run well enough. Blah blah blah.
But I’m slowly learning that those questions never really have satisfying answers. There will always be another race. Another goal. Another email. Another person who needs something.
The peace comes somewhere else. It comes from accepting that I was never meant to carry the weight of proving myself. Now, I notice different things.
The conversations that couldn’t be rushed.
The quiet drive home after a big day.
The unexpected laugh around the dinner table or during a run.
The privilege of sitting with women in Northern Uganda as they dream about a future that once felt impossible.
Those moments don’t look particularly impressive. But they’ve become the places where I feel most myself. Maybe that’s what growing older is. Not becoming more impressive. Just becoming more comfortable in your own skin.
I received a meme from a friend this week which made me laugh out loud, it read
"People wonder how I balance work, life, husband, kids, exercise sleep and running a business… I don’t… I just rotate which one I’m neglecting at a time, this week it was sleep, last week it was my husband."
If you’re in one of those seasons where life feels full, where you’re carrying work, people, family and expectations, I hope you remember this;
You don’t have to have everything held together all the time. You don’t have to earn the right to rest. And you definitely don’t need to become someone else before you’re enough.
With love,
Elzy