It’s my birthday a few days before the Henley Mile. That makes me a Cancerian. I don’t believe in astrology, but it just so happens that some of the adjectives associated with my sign (moody, sensitive) most definitely apply to me.

To cut to the chase: I’m not just a crab, I’m a soft-shelled one.

Being so sensitive was a curse as a child. Every criticism, every dirty look, cut like a knife. As I grew older, it became a little easier to think rationally, keep things in perspective, to see that it often had very little to do with me and a lot to do with how the other person was feeling. Easier, but not easy.

As an adult, my sensitivity has proved to be a mixed blessing. I’ve been able to channel it into certain creative outlets (such as acting and writing poetry). I’d like to think it’s part of the reason I’m such a good listener. I get all of the feels all of the time, which is frankly both exhilarating and exhausting.

Unfortunately, my sensitivity has also come to be expressed in less positive ways. And the most unproductive and damaging of these?

Quitting.

The bare-faced truth of it is, when things got too tough, when (even constructive) criticism was given too baldly without the protective cushioning of reassurance, my first instinct was to turn and run. So I did.

I justified it to myself by thinking “It’s not for me, I’m not cut out for it.” As if anything that didn’t come totally effortlessly, anything that required some effort, some mistakes being made and perhaps a few eyebrows being raised, was not to be pursued. Which, if you think about it, rules out almost everything.

You may be wondering where this is going and why I’m writing about it here. Well, it’s because getting into physical exercise, running and swimming, has helped to change all that. It’s given me the chance to work on my perseverance, resilience and grit.

Take my first ever race as an example. It was a 10k in Amsterdam and I’d only taken up running a few weeks beforehand. By the time I hit the 2k mark I needed to walk. I saw everybody overtaking me. I was out of breath and hadn’t even made it a quarter of the way yet. A mental battle ensued (and this still happens in every race I run).

I could quit.

It’d be so easy to just get off the course.

Just leave the race and call my boyfriend and go back to our cosy house and…

Or

I could soldier on.

Finish the race, just to prove to myself that I can.

To prove to myself that I am bigger than the physical pain and bigger than the self doubt.

***

Each and every time I finish a race, it’s because I’ve consciously CHOSEN to commit to it, and that’s a choice that I keep having to make over and over again with every step that falters and every shallow breath. It means I’ve DECIDED to finish no matter what – whether it’s a half marathon, or a mile open water swimming. When the day comes that I do not finish a race (or challenge, goal, dream…), I will make sure it’s because I have purposefully DECIDED not to – perhaps because continuing on may do more harm than good (for example, due to injury), or my goal has simply moved. It will not be because things just got a little bit too difficult and my fight-or-flight instinct is stuck on flight mode.

I’m trying to carry this valuable lesson over into my day-to-day life. Whatever it is I’m doing, I cannot be discouraged by setbacks, mistakes and the words of others. I mustn’t quit. I must face the dragons, because it is my own perception of them which imbues them with meaning and gives them power.

“Perhaps all the dragons in our lives are princesses who are only waiting to see us act, just once, with beauty and courage.”

– Rilke