I’m not a runner. That’s why I’m running.

I hate running.
Always have.

It’s the one form of movement that never clicked, too repetitive, too loud in my head, too much time to argue with myself.
So, naturally, I signed up for a 10K race in December.

Not because I’ve learned to love it.
But because this is the new me, the version that does the things she hates, precisely because the old me wouldn’t.

The me from before wanted shortcuts.
She wanted control, predictability, comfort disguised as discipline.
But real change, the kind that rewires you, lives in discomfort.

That’s what I’m chasing now.
Not speed. Not medals. Just evidence that I can keep showing up when everything in me wants to quit.

And for that, I need to thank Eckard, my brother-in-law.
He didn’t convince me with words; he didn’t have to.
He just kept showing up. Quietly.
No lectures, no big talk. Just the kind of steadiness that makes you question your own excuses.

He saw something in me long before I did, that I was ready for a new kind of challenge, the kind that strips away the noise.
He told me running would pull everything together, my mind, my discipline, my body, and he was right.

When I finally signed up, it wasn’t excitement I felt. It was this strange mix of fear and relief, like I’d finally stopped hiding behind the version of me that only does what she’s good at.

So here it is: ten weeks to train, ten weeks to turn resistance into momentum.
I won’t pretend to like it.
But I’ll do it anyway.

Because this version of me keeps her promises.
Because the new me doesn’t wait to feel ready.
And because the only way to meet yourself again is to run straight into the thing you’ve been avoiding.

Each week, I’ll share 3 things that have genuinely helped me, small shifts across the three pillars of ConfigurSelf: mindset, habits, and health. The kind of things that have made a real difference in my own life, and that I’d happily recommend to a close friend.

I didn’t expect to care about something as boring as socks.
But after a few runs, my legs were heavy, tight, almost pulsing, like I’d borrowed someone else’s body.

So I bought compression socks.
Not because I believed in them, but because my legs clearly needed more help than my mindset could give.

They work in a simple way, with gentle pressure that helps blood move back up instead of pooling in your calves. Less swelling, less fatigue, faster recovery. You feel it the next morning: the difference between dragging yourself out of bed and just getting up.

Now I wear them on every run. Not as a performance hack, but as maintenance, a way to look after the body that’s learning to do hard things again.

They’ve become a small reminder that change isn’t just about discipline.
It’s about supporting the parts of you that carry the weight of it.

This is the one I have.

I didn’t realise how serious runners are about shoes until I started reading.
Every article, every forum, every runner said the same thing: if you get one thing right, make it your shoes.

So I spent weeks researching, cushioning, drop, stability, midsole foam, reviews, foot types, all of it.
Because if I’m going to spend ten weeks training for something I don’t even like, I might as well give my legs a fair chance.

I ended up choosing the Hoka Bondi 9.
They’re known for their ridiculous cushioning, thick soles that feel like someone built forgiveness into every step.
They don’t make running easy, but they make it possible.

The first time I tried them, I noticed it straight away: my knees didn’t complain, my feet didn’t slap the ground, and for the first time, I didn’t feel like I was dragging myself forward, just moving.

Now I get why runners obsess.
Shoes aren’t about comfort; they’re about permission.
The right pair gives you one less reason to stop. This is the brand I use.

Everyone told me to download Strava.
At first, I didn’t want to; it felt too public, too performative. I didn’t need another app turning my effort into content.

But curiosity won.
And now I get it.

Strava isn’t really about competition. It’s about evidence.
It quietly tracks the days you could’ve skipped but didn’t. Each run becomes a small record of truth, not fast, not impressive, just real.

Now I open it less to compare and more to remember. Sometimes you forget how far you’ve already come until an orange line reminds you, and this used to be impossible.

If you want to follow my progress, I’m on Strava as Orgesa Meli.
I’m still learning how to use it, but I’ll get the hang of it, one run at a time.

If something in this email made you pause, think, or feel seen, send it to a friend who’s been quietly trying to make a change, too.
You never know what might land at the right moment. Link here.

And if you’d like early access to the eBook I’m writing, the real systems, mindset shifts, and habits that helped me lose 50kg and rebuild my health, you can join the waiting list here. “You’re not behind. You’re building, and that takes time.”