If you’ve been around here for a while, you’ll know that’s a big deal. Because for most of my life, I have loudly, proudly declared that I am not a runner. Running was for other people. People who didn’t panic-breathe, as if they were being chased. People who didn’t flash back to school sports carnivals every time their lungs started burning.
My talent was belting a softball and being the mouthy catcher. Not running.
And yet. Here we are.
Ten weeks in. Twice a week. A 10km event is locked in for May. And something quietly shifting in how I think about myself.
Which brings me to something I’ve been sitting with lately, this idea that identity drives behaviour far more than willpower ever will.
I didn’t start running because I forced myself. I didn’t make a resolution or download a program in January, full of good intentions. It happened because something in me decided, almost without my noticing, to try on a new identity.
And once I started calling myself a runner, even tentatively, even with the puffing and the doubt and the “I nearly stopped today”, my decisions started to follow.
Early to bed the night before a run. Workout clothes laid out at the end of my bed. Running route planned. Shoes by the door. Not because I’m disciplined. Because that’s what runners do. And apparently now, I’m a runner.
This is the thing nobody tells you about change. We think we need to do things differently before we can be different. But it actually works the other way around.
You decide who you are first. Then you act from that place.
And I want to stop here for a second because I think this might be the missing piece for a lot of us.
Have you ever started something with the best intentions and then just… fallen off? The eating plan that worked for two weeks. The gym routine that lasted a month. The morning routine you were absolutely nailing until you weren’t. The boundary you set that quietly disappeared under enough pressure.
And then you told yourself you were lazy. Undisciplined. That you just couldn’t stick to things.
But what if it wasn’t about discipline at all?
What if the plan was never the problem because the identity never shifted?
Because here’s what I’ve noticed. When I was just “someone trying to get fit,” rest days felt like failure. Missed sessions felt like proof I couldn’t do it. Every imperfect week was evidence that I wasn’t cut out for it.
But when I became an athlete someone who trains for her health, her bones, her future, rest days became part of the plan. A missed session was just a missed session, not a character flaw. Because athletes don’t quit. They adjust.
The identity held the behaviour in place in a way that motivation never could.
So if you’ve fallen off a plan you really wanted to stick to I’d gently ask: did you ever actually decide to be that person? Or were you just trying to do the things, hoping the identity would follow?
It doesn’t work that way. The identity has to come first.
And here’s what’s got me really excited because this isn’t just about fitness. You can apply this question to every single area of your life.
How would a cool mum handle this moment? Not the mum who loses it over the wet towel on the floor for the fourth time this week. The cool mum. The one her kids will actually talk to about the hard stuff one day. Would she pick this battle? Would she say it with humour instead of heat? Honestly, asking that question mid-argument with a teenager has saved me more than once.
How would a woman who respects her own time respond to that request? The one that makes you resentful before you’ve even said yes. How would she answer? Probably not with an automatic yes and a quiet seethe.
How would a strong, healthy woman fuel herself today? Not perfectly. Not with restriction or guilt. But intentionally. Like someone who actually gives a damn about being around and capable for the long haul.
How would a woman who believes in her own work show up today? Would she shrink in that meeting? Would she discount her prices again? Would she apologise before she’d even said anything?
How would a good daughter handle this situation with her aging parent? With patience, she has to consciously choose. With presence instead of her phone (I’m still working on this). With the understanding that this season is finite, she’ll want to have shown up well.
The identity question cuts through the noise in a way that motivation and willpower simply don’t. Because motivation is a feeling it comes and goes. But identity is a decision. And decisions stick.
I’m not the most natural runner. I’m slow. I manage the heat. I negotiate with myself through the hard kilometres. But I show up twice a week without question. And I’m starting to understand that’s exactly what runners do.
So yes. I am a runner.
Now I want to ask you something and I want you to actually sit with it for a moment.
Is there an area of your life where you keep falling off the plan? Where you’ve tried and restarted and tried again and can’t figure out why it won’t stick?
Have you shifted the identity or have you just been changing the plan?
Drop it below. I think this conversation could be a really good one. 👇