Life can be stressful. Or, actually, let’s be honest…Life can be completely unpredictable! One minute you have a perfectly good plan to exercise, and the next thing you know, the bikes chain breaks, it’s raining sideways, someone needs something, work has landed on your desk, or your body has decided that today would be a very good day to remind you that you are no longer 25. And there goes the exercise plan.  

Most athletes have some sort of training plan. It might not be written down in military-style detail, but there is usually a goal. Brandon, for example, is training for the Knysna Extreme. His training currently revolves around making sure he gets enough time on the bike, enough running and enough swimming so that when race day arrives, he can hopefully say, “Yes, I trained enough.” 

I have no such excuse. I’m not training for anything. I'm not chasing a medal. There is no finish line waiting for me. I just know that I feel better when I exercise. My training plan is often as sophisticated as opening YouTube and thinking, “Right, what do I feel like doing today?” Pilates? Cardio?  Dance?  Strength? We do walk the dogs on Leisure Isle and a hike over the weekends but swimming I will wait for summer.  

Something that promises to give me a six-pack in seven minutes? Obviously, I chose the last one. Well… I watch the first 30 seconds and then decide Pilates sounds better. 

And Then Life Happens. This is where motivation gets interesting. Because it's very easy to exercise when everything is going according to plan. The sun is shining. Your shoes are ready. You have time. You feel energetic. You are feeling very virtuous. Then…BANG. 

Life. The bike breaks. It rains. You get busy. Family commitments appear. Work takes over. You're tired. You have a million things to do. And suddenly that little voice says: "You know what? Maybe tomorrow. "Tomorrow becomes the next day. The next day becomes Monday. Monday becomes next Monday. And before you know it, your exercise clothes are sitting neatly folded in the cupboard wondering what they did to deserve this treatment. 

But should we really let those interruptions stop us. I don't think so. Exercise isn't always about being competitive. It's not necessarily about going faster, further or lifting heavier. Sometimes it's simply about how it makes us feel. That feeling after you've moved your body. That slightly smug feeling when you know you've actually used some of those muscles. The feeling of being alive. And if you're lucky enough to exercise outdoors, there is so much more.A sunrise.A sunset.Birds.The lagoon. The mountains. The fresh air. Swimming in the water and looking around thinking, “How lucky am I to be doing this?” 

And then there are the people. The friends you make. The laughs. The encouragement. The conversations that somehow happen while everyone is supposed to be concentrating on exercising. Sometimes the social part is just as important as the exercise. 

And apparently our brains approve of all this moving around. Regular exercise can help reduce stress and anxiety, improve mood and support better sleep. Movement affects neurotransmitters such as endorphins, serotonin and dopamine and helps regulate our body's stress response. 

So when you're having one of those days where your brain feels like 37 browser tabs are open and you have absolutely no idea where the music is coming from, exercise can actually help. You don't necessarily need a two-hour workout. You just need to move. 

This is probably the bit I need to remind myself of too. If you don't feel like exercising, don't tell yourself you have to do an hour. Tell yourself: “I'll just do five minutes. "Five minutes of stretching. A walk around the block. A few Pilates exercises. Dance around the kitchen. Take the dogs for a walk. Put on a YouTube workout. Do something. 

Because five minutes can quite easily turn into ten. Ten can become twenty. And sometimes, once you've started, you actually feel like carrying on. And if you don't? That's okay, too. At least you moved. 

I think this is important. If you absolutely hate running, why are you running? There are so many ways to move your body. Swim, Walk, Cycle, Dance, Pilates, play padel, Lift weights, Garden, Hike, Walk the dog. 

Put on music and dance around the lounge like nobody is watching. Because, quite frankly, nobody needs to see that anyway. The best exercise is often the one you enjoy enough to do again. 

There will always be days when exercise doesn't happen. And that's okay. Sometimes your body needs to rest.  Sometimes work genuinely has to come first. Sometimes family needs you. Sometimes the weather is so awful that even the dogs look at you as if to say, “We're not going outside in that.” 

And sometimes you simply don't feel like it. That's life. The trick is not to turn one missed day into a lifestyle. Don't beat yourself up. Don't wait for Monday. Don't wait for the perfect time. Just start again. Five minutes. Ten minutes. One walk. One swim. One YouTube video. Whatever works. Because perhaps motivation isn't something we have to wait for. 

And at the end of the day, whether you're training for an extreme triathlon like Brandon or simply trying to keep your body moving because it makes you feel good like me…We're not necessarily doing this to become the fittest person in the room. We're doing it because life feels better when we move through it. So, when life happens…Don't give up. Do something different. Have a laugh. And then…just keep moving. 

As an ex-dancer, I learned very early on that your feet are everything. They carry you through leaps, turns, balances, and countless hours of training. A dancer quickly discovers that strong, healthy feet can make the difference between moving with grace and ending up on the sidelines nursing an injury.

Now, while I spend time around triathletes, I am not one myself. My exercise routine these days consists mainly of Pilates, walking,swimming (in summer) and the occasional run. Yet one thing I've noticed is that many triathletes invest enormous amounts of time and money into their bikes, watches, nutrition plans, and training schedules, while paying surprisingly little attention to the two things that literally carry them through every race,their feet.

Think about it. During a run, your feet absorb impact, stabilize your body, and propel you forward. That's a lot to ask of a body part that spends most of the day squeezed into shoes.

As dancers, we spent hours strengthening our feet. We pointed them, flexed them, balanced on them, and generally asked them to do things that would make most people wince. While I'm not suggesting triathletes take up ballet, there are a few lessons from the dance world that could benefit every endurance athlete.

One of the simplest exercises is learning to move your toes independently. It sounds easy until you try it!

Can you lift just your big toe while keeping the others on the ground? Now try lifting the other four while keeping the big toe down. This little exercise, often called "toe yoga," improves foot strength, coordination, and control. And yes, you'll probably feel a bit ridiculous at first.

Many feet have forgotten how to spread their toes properly after years of living in shoes.

Try standing barefoot and spreading your toes as wide as possible. Hold for a few seconds and repeat. It's amazing how challenging this can be. Your toes may protest, but they will thank you later. 

Dancers spend a lifetime balancing on one leg. Triathletes can benefit from doing the same. Stand on one foot while brushing your teeth, waiting for the kettle to boil, or watching television. Once that becomes easy, try closing your eyes. Don't blame me if you suddenly appreciate just how hard dancers work.

Strong calves and Achilles tendons are vital for runners. Simple heel raises are one of the best exercises around. Rise up onto the balls of your feet, pause, and slowly lower down. Repeat several times.It's not glamorous, but neither is sitting out a race with an Achilles injury.

After long training sessions, treat your feet to a little spa therapy. A tennis ball, massage ball, or even a frozen water bottle rolled under the foot can help relieve tension and keep everything moving smoothly.Think of it as a thank-you note to your hard working feet.

One reason I continue to enjoy Pilates is that it encourages awareness of how the body moves from the ground up. It improves balance, alignment, core strength, and stability,all qualities that help athletes perform better and reduce injury risk.

In many ways, Pilates and dance teach something that endurance athletes sometimes overlook: performance starts at the foundation.

Want healthier feet? Try this quick routine:

• Toe spreads – 1 minute
• Toe yoga – 2 minutes
• Arch-strengthening exercises – 2 minutes
• Single-leg balance – 2 minutes
• Heel raises – 2 minutes
• Foot massage or rolling – 1 minute

Ten minutes. That's all.

Triathletes are famous for tracking every watt, every kilometre, every heartbeat, and every calorie. Yet some of the most important equipment they own is already attached to them.

Whether you're chasing a personal best, training for your first race, or simply enjoying an active lifestyle, remember this: strong feet create a strong foundation. After all, even the fanciest running shoes can't do all the work for you. 

So take a little advice from an ex-dancer, look after your feet. They've been carrying you your whole life and, with a bit of care, they'll happily carry you for many years to come. 

There are moments when you surprise yourself. When the calm, coffee-in-hand, dog-walking version of you quietly steps aside and something far more Johannesburg steps forward. Friday was one of those moments.

Our Belvidere routine had unfolded as it so often does. Swimmers in the water. Walkers on the shore. Nats and I strolling with the dogs, keeping pace with Brandon, Keegan and Pam as they worked their way from buoy to buoy. Gentle, predictable, almost meditative. 

Until it wasn’t. A ski boat came tearing across the lagoon, dragging a skier at speed through what is very clearly a No Wake Zone. Not just bending the rules, bulldozing straight through them. At first you almost hope they’ll realise. Slow down. Correct course. Do the decent thing.

They didn’t. By the time we reached the viewpoint, the skier had fallen and the boat had paused about 20 metres from shore. Close enough. Close enough for me to decide that watching quietly was no longer an option. 

I marched.There’s something quite cinematic about that kind of walk. Purposeful. Direct. Slightly fueled by outrage. I planted myself at the water’s edge and called out, “Excuse me!” once… twice… several times. The children on the boat saw me immediately. The man? He perfected the art of not-seeing.

Eventually, he looked. And I asked, as politely as one can when internally on fire, “Are you aware that this is a no wake zone and there are swimmers in the water?”His response? A casual shrug wrapped in arrogance. He’d grown up there, he said. He knew the flood levels. He could ski there. Which is fascinating because none of that has anything to do with the actual rules of the lagoon.

So I returned serve.I pointed out, quite clearly, that he obviously didn’t have a skipper’s licence if he didn’t understand how to operate a boat safely in a designated no wake zone.

His counterargument? Turning up the music. Loud enough to try and drown me out which, I’ll admit, only added a layer of absurdity to the whole scene. 

Meanwhile, out in the water, the swimmers were effectively stranded at buoy two. Waiting. Watching. Trying to predict the behaviour of someone who had already proven himself wildly unpredictable.

Then, unbelievably, another child got up on the skis.Off he went again. Engine roaring. Weaving between the buoys. 

Past the swimmers.By this point, Brandon had joined in let’s say his version of “polite” had loosened slightly. And rightly so. This wasn’t irritation anymore. This was a genuine safety risk.

Even a nearby fisherman, who had no personal stake in our little group, started shouting at the boater. Because some things are just universally understood or at least they should be.

And then, the quiet voice of reason from the most unexpected place. One of the children.“Dad, can we just go home?” Out of the mouths of babes and possibly the only sensible voice on that boat.

Eventually, they left. No details taken. No names. No way to report him to SANParks. Just the lingering frustration of knowing someone got away with behaviour that could have ended very differently.

But it did leave us with something else. 

A reminder. Both Brandon and I grew up in the south of Johannesburg, where there’s a certain instinct baked into you. A “don’t mess with me” reflex that doesn’t ask permission before showing up. On Friday, it arrived in full force. 

Pam has since decided that if anyone ever needs an escort down a dark alley, we’re the people to call. And she might not be wrong. Because sometimes, standing up and making noise isn’t about being confrontational. It’s about drawing a line in the water.

We generally wake at 5:00am. Three mornings a week, Brandon heads out for his cycle, while I roll out my mat in the lounge and do a YouTube workout. The other three mornings are our swimming mornings at Belvidere. There is nothing more beautiful than watching the sun rise over the lagoon. The colours change within minutes, different hues of orange, red, and pink stretching across the sky. The shadows shimmer in pure beauty as the sun slowly rises behind the hills. Most mornings the lagoon is calm and warm. Occasionally we can feel the current as the tide changes, but it rarely affects our swim.

Lately, though, the air has become a little crisper, and the sunrise arrives slightly later. Here in Knysna, South Africa, in the Southern Hemisphere, the seasons are slowly turning and autumn is on its way. During the day it’s still warm enough for shorts and T-shirts , some days hot enough to keep the fan on, although that is often just to chase away those pesky mosquitoes. But the changing season has begun to affect my swimming choices. Although I love swimming, years of early-morning training have made me a little less enthusiastic about cold water starts. Even though Brandon and Pam come back from their swims saying the water is still wonderful… I’m not entirely convinced.

So what’s the alternative? Stop sharing those absolutely stunning morning sunrises? Not a chance. We have two small dogs who absolutely love going for “walkies.” So instead of swimming, we sometimes walk,  and occasionally run, along the trails beside Belvidere’s beautiful waters edge. Being immersed in nature at the moment the sun rises is such a gift, and our furbabies adore the adventure.

My fitness goals remain the same. I’m not training for an event. I simply enjoy being physically active. I enjoy moving freely without hopefully the aches and pains that often come with age. I enjoy feeling healthy. And the added benefit? Experiencing life with a deeper appreciation for each new day.The seasons may change. How I exercise may change. But my love for movement will never change.

"The seasons may change the way we move, but they should never change the joy of moving."

I have always loved swimming. My parents used to say I was swimming before I was walking. That doesn’t mean I’m an incredibly strong or technical swimmer, it simply means I feel at home in the water. At school I swam competitively and did well, but that was many, many years ago and required many, many hours of training. Over time, swimming became something gentler for me, a few lengths at the gym, playful splashing in the pool, long, lazy swims at the beach.

Then in October, when I moved to Knysna, everything shifted.Brandon, who was training for the Knysna Extreme, introduced me to open water swimming at Belvidere in the lagoon. Suddenly, swimming wasn’t about tiles and tumble turns. It was about four distant buoys floating in the wide expanse of water, anywhere between 1.6 and 2.5 km depending on how brave (or energetic) you felt that day.

The first time I went out, I paddled my way to the first buoy. No pressure. No expectations. Just me, the water, and the view.And what a view. The mountains rising in the background. The sun glistened across the lagoon. The quiet rhythm of arms slicing through water. It was breathtaking.Over the months, I grew braver. I swam further. Eventually, I was capable of swimming the full distance. There was only one small issue.I like swimming backstroke. Not exactly the textbook stroke for open water swimming.But I’ve never really been one for swimming with the pack. Sometimes it’s far more fun to swim against the flow , literally.

Then came the decision to enter the Moreson Myl, a charity open water swim held in Wilderness at the beautiful Island Lake Holiday Resort. “Myl” is Afrikaans for “mile,” and a mile is 1.6 km , our usual training distance, so definitely doable. There was also a 350 m option, but we were there for the mile.

Still… this felt different.Two hundred-plus swimmers. A mass start.And the big question: could I swim backstroke. Brandon, Pam, and I arrived early on Saturday morning. The sun was rising over the water, painting the sky in soft gold. It was one of those perfect mornings , calm, bright, full of possibility. Brandon’s parents came to support us, cheering from the water’s edge. Their presence alone made the morning feel special. The start was delayed by half an hour, which only gave the nerves more time to settle in. Timing devices were strapped to our ankles, and we waded into the cool water to wait.

Pam, calm as ever, told us not to worry about where she was in the pack, she’d be fine. Me? Not quite so brave. Thankfully, Brandon said he’d stay close to me, swimming with his bright yellow buoy so I could always spot him. Then the hooter blasted. And everyone was off.I started with freestyle. I really did try. But it’s not that I can’t swim freestyle , it’s that I love backstroke. So there I was, flipping from freestyle to backstroke, from backstroke to freestyle, not exactly built for speed.

Swimming among so many people was challenging. Arms everywhere. Kicks everywhere. A few times I swam straight into other swimmers and they into me. It’s amazing how small the water can feel when 200 plus people are thrashing through it. I decided to hug close to the island, convinced it would shorten my distance  in my mind at least. Brandon patiently swam alongside me, gently trying to steer me away from the reeds.

Unfortunately, I don’t always take well to instructions even when they are clearly in my best interest. So yes… I found myself swimming into the reeds more than once. But eventually, through splashing and reeds and stubborn backstroke determination, I saw it. The big red buoy.The finish. I could do this.And in that moment, it didn’t matter that I wasn’t the fastest.

It didn’t matter that I wasn’t swimming textbook freestyle.

It didn’t matter that I zigzagged my way across the course.

It didn't matter that the course was actually 2km,no wonder I was tired.

What mattered was …

I was brave enough to start.

Stubborn enough to continue.

And joyful enough to swim it my way.

Sometimes the best swims aren’t about racing the pack. They’re about floating on your back, looking up at the sky, and realising you’re exactly where you’re meant to be.

There are endurance events and then there is the Knysna Extreme.

Set in the heart of South Africa’s Garden Route, the Knysna Extreme is not your average triathlon. It is wild. It is long. It is relentless. It is, Brandon's choice of a triathlon. No circuit races. No crowds encouraging you on. Just one singular, audacious goal. 

Starting with a 5km open water swim in the Knysna Lagoon, all before most people have finished their first cup of coffee. From there, a 174km on the bike. Starting in Knysna, heading toward George via parts of the historic Seven Passes Road, then climbing over the mighty Outeniqua Pass, pushing into the dry vastness of the Karoo. The terrain changes. The wind changes. Your legs change. And just when most people would call it a day , there was still a 50km run. Through forests, over mountain passes, climbing ,descending, climbing toward Diepwalle Forest Station.

I spent the entire day championing him, throughout the epic experience. I was privileged to be his "support" following him in the car, "protecting " him from any vehicles along the route. I was absorbing the emotional rollercoaster that only endurance sport can create, especially the endurance of my bladder. 

The Extreme experience itself deserves its own story. Because it’s more than a race, it’s a test of resilience, partnership, logistics, grit, and deep internal dialogue.

But today’s story is actually my journey although Brandon is definitely my inspiration..

I’ve always been active. As a child I played multiple sports. As an adult, I’ve danced, swum, walked, and run. I’ve never been fiercely competitive, except with myself. I like to feel alive and able to move my body without the creaks and aches, of let me say age, although I have always believed ,age is but a mindset.

Then Brandon bought me a Garmin watch.

The watch has became, let’s call it “motivational.” Suddenly 10,000 steps wasn’t just a suggestion , it was a mission. I found myself walking laps around the house at night, glancing at my wrist, calculating how many steps I needed to “close the ring.” It has became slightly obsessive, if I’m honest. There’s something deeply satisfying about that tiny digital celebration.

Moving to Knysna has helped. It’s hard not to be active here. Forest trails call your name. The lagoon invites morning walks and swims. When your partner is training with dedication and discipline, it naturally pulls you along.

That said ,we still love good food. We still share a glass of wine. Health, for us, isn’t punishment. It’s balance. Watching Brandon complete the Knysna Extreme didn’t make me want to sign up for a 50km run.

But it did remind me of something important. We are capable of more than we think.

Maybe my “extreme” isn’t 174km on a bike. Maybe it’s consistency. Maybe it’s choosing movement over excuses. Maybe it’s Pilates and cardio training twice a week. Maybe it’s walking and jogging at Belvidere or Leisure Isle . Swimming 1,6km in the lagoon with friends.Maybe it’s simply deciding to be a little healthier. A little fitter. A little more intentional.

And maybe that’s enough.

Because endurance doesn’t only live in epic race days.

Sometimes, it lives in the quiet decision to keep showing up, one step at a time