Next.

I’ve been thinking a lot about what I want to do next. Just that: what comes next. For almost four years of my life I’ve been setting a goal and doing all I can to achieve it.

The first year: Lose weight to avoid a knee operation. My petite frame was suffering under my 40% body fat and if I did not make a change in my body composition, I would’ve had to undergo a knee surgery. I had avoided hospitals all my life. Never broke a bone, never needed more than a few blood samples taken, never been checked in.

The second year: Get relatively fit. I started running, then I added weights. I basked in the happiness of doing my first 5K race and within months I did 42K. I supplemented my training with yoga and dancing. I had never liked myself this much.

The third year: I focused all my training on becoming a sub4 marathoner, or a person who can run 42K in under 4 hours. For many it was a small goal, but to me, it was the ultimate. And I did it. I brought down all my times. I had my first fitness photoshoot.

This year: I want to be a triathlete. I am debuting in a week. Day after day, I swim, I bike, I run. I give everything for the next thing I want.

My agenda app is not even full until after this date. Like my whole life isn’t planned until I am sure that day passes. But what comes next?

I guess this is driving force behind all of this, behind everything, I have done lately. I have moved on from not liking myself at all to becoming someone even I can respect. Someone I never thought I would become.

Yes, there are so many more better than me in anything and everything. I am, after all, just another fit person, another runner, even another triathlete, and amateur. Amongst everyone I can understand that I am nothing special. It is this sense of grounding, like roots deeply clawing at the earth, that makes me ask ‘What’s next?’.

Because it can’t stop where it is. It can’t be just the endgame. Something must follow.

I will know as I cross the finish line in one more week that I will hug my friends and family and I might cry and feel so excited… but only because I know: Something new is coming. A new challenge comes at me.

One clap, two clap, three clap, forty?

By clapping more or less, you can signal to us which stories really stand out.