The Circle on the Napkin

Learning to Be More Than Just a Runner

At the start of this year, I had a plan.

A really good one.

A Google Sheets, color-coded, “this is my year” kind of plan.

I was moving to Annecy to start a new chapter with my boyfriend. We were going to buy an apartment. I’d wanted become one of those effortlessly chic French girls who can pronounce pain au chocolat properly and wear linen without wrinkling.

Athletically, things were looking sharp too. I’d qualified for the UTMB World Finals and had my racing calendar lined up like a European train schedule: France, Switzerland, Sweden, Spain. Race, travel, recover, repeat.

This wasn’t just a season. It was the season. The one I’d worked my tail off for.

And then… I went white water rafting (10/10 don’t recommend as a post-race activity).

The raft capsized. My back got wrecked. And just like that, my season became a very expensive episode of Survivor: Trail Runner Edition.

Instead of podiums and post-race ice cream celebrations, I’ve spent the last six months trying to walk without pain, rebuilding my glutes from scratch, and Googling “can you actually break your soul?”

Resistance Training (but emotional)

At first, I resisted hard. I treated recovery like a temporary layover: uncomfortable, inconvenient, and surely ending soon.

I clung to the plan. I powered through PT. I got mad at my body for not bouncing back faster as if it were an Airbnb guest overstaying its welcome.

Eventually, though, I had to accept the truth: the plan had ghosted me. It wasn’t texting back. I was being left on read by my own goals.

So I did the hardest thing of all.

I surrendered.

And in that stillness, I started to ask myself:

If I’m not just a runner… then who am I?

The Napkin Epiphany

During the week, I had lunch with a friend. I was telling her how lost I felt, not just physically, but emotionally.

She reached for a pen and starting to draw a circle on the café napkin.

“Everyone has a circle,” she told me. “And everyone fills theirs differently. What does yours look like?”

I stared at the circle like it was a trick question.

“Uh… running?”

That was it. Just one thing. My entire identity was a single-sport monopoly. And when it got taken away (even temporarily), I had no idea who I was outside of GPS watches and carb timing.

That night, I went home and drew my own circle. This time, I filled it out differently.

It didn’t fix everything. But it helped me start asking new questions.

Questions like: What else lights me up? What have I been ignoring in service of chasing one goal really hard?

My New Circle

• Writing - like this Substack.

• Connecting with friends and family (and not just over workouts - turns out you can talk to people sitting down).

• Learning - like French school and being humbled by 10 yr olds who laugh at my pronunciation of my own street name (you try saying “écureuil” under pressure).

• Expressing myself through content, which I’m slowly learning to enjoy -vlogging, reels, filming bits of my day, sharing my story.

• Building things - like my app, MOTR, which is launching soon (stay tuned 👀)

• Gardening - my boyfriend bought a dreamy patch of land in the Pyrenees and we’re growing a self-sufficient garden with veggies, fruit trees, tea plants, and (eventually) bees.

• Running - still here, still a cornerstone, just not the whole damn house.

How to Pivot: A Choose-Your-Own-Adventure

Okay, so how do you actually pivot when life punches your plan in the throat?

This isn’t a 5-step “resilience roadmap.” There’s no clean formula. But here’s what I’ve learned from rewriting a dream in real time.

Start here:

Step 1: Check Your Emotional GPS

Where are you right now?

A. Laughing at the absurdity of it all

B. Rage-cleaning your kitchen

C. Stuck in a “what if” wormhole

D. Suspiciously at peace

E. Just hungry and confused

Step 2: What feels most true right now?

A. I need to do something reckless but legal

B. I’m craving deep connection, not shallow pep talks

C. I want to escape my own brain for a while

D. I miss feeling like a beginner at something

E. I need to shake off my old story

Now scroll to your custom prescription:

Mostly A’s: The Marshmallow Reset

You don’t want to burn your life down, you just want to roast one marshmallow over a tiny bonfire.

Maybe your old routine doesn’t serve you right now. Maybe it completely imploded. Time to build a new one.

When training and racing got taken away from me, so did my entire routine. Suddenly, I had nothing to wake up for, because I literally had nothing to do. That’s when I realised: I didn’t need a full schedule. I just needed a reason to get out of bed.

So I made one.

My current recipe for sanity:

• Wake up at 6:30am (rising with the sun tricks me into feeling like I’ve got my life together).

• Log into Lingoda at 7am for French class (nothing like mispronouncing “grenouille” to feel alive).

• Walk to the lake at 8am for a dip

• Come home, make breakfast, and do my back rehab.

That’s it. It’s not revolutionary. But it gives my day a beginning, a shape, and a tiny sense of direction. Even if the rest of the day unravels, I’ve already won my morning.

Sometimes, all you need is one good marshmallow.

Mostly B’s: The Depth Dive

Find your people - the ones who don’t flinch when you say, “I’m not okay, and I don’t need a silver lining speech.”

Start small. One phone call. One honest message. One slow walk where the conversation has room to breathe.

If you’re ready? See a professional. Psychologists aren’t just for emergencies. What if we view them as curiosity-guides? People who help us understand ourselves better, like gym coaches for the mind?

I saw a psychologist for the first time ever last week (maybe a topic for next week’s Substack).

Mostly C’s: The Non-Romantic Honeymoon

Take yourself somewhere new. Not to “find yourself.” Just to hang out with yourself.

Do weird things. Try olive oil ice cream. Take a pottery class in a language you don’t speak. Pretend you’re researching a book (which you might be).

The goal isn’t healing, it’s surprise. It’s being reminded that there are parts of you who haven’t been scheduled, optimized, or explained yet.

For me, that meant a trip to Cadaqués, Spain - a full reset from Annecy, where even the lake seems to be out-training me.

Mostly D’s: The Beginner’s Mindset

Try something you suck at.

Ukulele. Improv. Chess. Learn how to code. Bake the ugliest cake of all time.

When your identity feels cracked, becoming a beginner again is grounding. It reminds you that you don’t need to excel to exist. You just need to show up, try, fail, laugh, and repeat.

Mostly E’s: The Hungry Caterpillar Era

You're in the weird middle part nobody posts about: the pause between life chapters, where you don’t have clarity yet, just a vague gut feeling that something has to change.

You’re not burning with motivation but you’re not spiralling either. You’re just … a little lost.

Here’s how to move forward without knowing where you’re going:

1. Write a list of what you’re done with. What have you outgrown in your life?

2. Now write a list of what you miss. Think small: Slow mornings. Play. Spontaneity. Cooking. Dancing. Gardening.

3. Start building days around those things. Circle one. Do it next week. Focus on the feelings you get from doing that thing. Not the outcome.

4. Borrow belief from someone else. Read a book, watch a TED Talk, say yes to a plan even if you don’t feel “ready.”

5. Commit to 1 hour a day just for you. Turn off your phone. Go outside without a podcast. Let your brain get bored.

Maybe This Was the Real Season

The irony is, I thought this year would be the season that proved my athletic potential.

Maybe it still will be, but in a different way.

Maybe this is the season that builds my resilience, not just my race results.

I don’t know what the rest of the year holds. I’m still healing.

Still pivoting.

Still figuring out how to draw a circle I can be proud of - one that includes running, but isn’t only running.

So if you’re in a pivot of your own right now, whether by choice or by force, I hope you know this:

Your circle? It can hold more than you think.

What’s in your circle?

Draw it. Take a photo. Hit reply. Let’s start a conversation.

If this piece found you in a moment you needed it, feel free to share it. You never know who else is quietly figuring out how to start over too.