Touching testimonials

"Four hours in the hospital.

That’s how this chapter started. Me, curled up on a ER bed, riding out yet another flare up from my autoimmune disorder. We’ve known each other a year now, Auto and I (as I call her) are still figuring each other out.
This last flare-up, though? A little extra - even for her: headaches, bone-deep fatigue, chest pain, kidney pain, and legs that felt like they were filled with tiny, burning stones just under my skin. I could move, yes, but it felt like hauling bricks with every step.

So I did what any emotionally drained woman with body betrayal would do after getting poked and prodded for hours: I went home, curled into myself and scrolled mindlessly through Instagram.

​

I saw a post from a woman I train with and she had signed up for a fitness competition.
My first reaction? “You go, girl!” My second? A pang of envy, or grief, or something unnamed that sat heavy in my chest—not from Auto this time.

“ That used to be me,” I thought. That couldn’t be me now.
We exchanged a few messages and… look, I can't explain it, but somewhere between the pain and the pity, a wild idea elbowed its way in: I am going to sign up too!

Yes. Me.
Bruised arms from drips, numb legs, still processing my diagnosis, I registered for Deadly Dozen South Africa - a race so intense it sounds made up by someone who hates happiness.

And the race? It was in four weeks.

Other people had been training for ages. They didn’t have chronic inflammation or a confused immune systems. But I decided: details, details. I’d do it anyway.

I chose the doubles race because, listen - delusion has its limits.
My race partner is 24. I’m almost double that. She signed us up for the intermediate category, and I thought, “Well, I’ve come this far with my nonsense, I might as well “see it through.”
When I told my husband who had just sat with me through yet another hospital visit—he just blinked. Said nothing. Not a “you’ve got this, babe” or “have you lost your damn mind? Just silence. Which honestly, was the perfect response. He knows better than to question me when I get this kind of fire in my belly.

Training started the next week, and…it was a disaster! I couldn’t do a burpee. I couldn’t lift a 2kg dumbbell without wobbling. I was dizzy, uncoordinated, tired, and still very much inflamed.
The trainer asked me again if I am sure about this. I told him, “I can do this. You just have to trust me.”
He didn’t — I didn’t’ care.

And so I showed up. Every. Single. Day.
Even when I moaned. Even when I swore. Even when I limped in, sore and sleepy.
It didn’t matter. I just kept going back.
Somewhere along the line, the suffering turned into strength. By week three, I was making my target time in simulations. Encouraging, right? Except simulation isn’t race day.
That was a different beast!

Race time: 12:40pm.
High noon. Sun blazing. Great.
There was only one water station on the entire course—and every sip cost you a second. A second!
And just to spice things up, I woke up with a stiff neck and a random back ache the day before the race. Perfect timing, body. As always.

I wasn’t the fittest. I wasn’t the fastest. But I was the most stubborn person out there.
That’s what got me through.

My partner and I had two simple goals:
– Finish the race.
– Do it in under an hour.

We smashed it in 55 minutes!

See, It was never really about the time.
This race was about seeing what was still possible within me.
It was about getting honest with myself about what limits were real, and which ones I’d just resigned myself to.

It turns out, I had more in me than I thought.

I didn’t show up feeling strong or certain.
I just decided to start…And then I kept going.

Sometimes the hardest part isn’t the race itself, it’s just believing you have it in you.

So if you’re sitting in your own version of a flare-up — whether it’s illness, grief, job loss, burnout, or just trying to hold yourself together when life keeps throwing jabs, let me tell you something:

You don’t have to feel ready.
You don’t need to have a perfect plan.
You just have to decide.
And then keep showing up.

If I could take on Deadly Dozen with a body that keeps attacking itself, Oh friend- you can face whatever your “impossible” looks like too."