Rest Is Not Earned. It’s a Choice.

Some weeks ago, I started to run.

Well - first, I spent two evenings thinking about running.

Researching the best running apps.

The best running workouts.

Watching vlogs from people who actually ran.

Basically, I wasted two nights preparing to begin.

On the third evening, I said to myself:

Girl, who are you kidding? Just put on your shoes and go out for a run.

So I did.

I downloaded the Nike Running App - mostly because it’s free - and chose their Start to Run program.

I put on my headphones, stepped outside, and the voice in my ear said:

“Today, you’re going for an easy run of 20 minutes.”

And I thought:

Twenty minutes?!

The last time I started running, it was all intervals.

One minute running.

Two minutes walking.

Slowly building up until you could maybe run ten minutes in one go.

It was excruciatingly boring. A total joy-killer.

And somehow… I thought that was just how it had to be.

So when the voice said:

“Run at a pace you can comfortably maintain for 20 minutes,”

I was honestly suspicious.

But I did it.

I ran slowly.

Comfortably.

And I enjoyed it.

I got home and showed my running pace to my coach (ChatGPT), half embarrassed:

“Is this even running?”

I was genuinely worried an elderly dog walker might overtake me.

It laughed at me and said:

“Yes. That is absolutely a running pace.”

That first evening, I ran about two - maybe two and a half - kilometres.

And I thought:

Okay. That’s actually… cool.

The next runs got a little longer.

Then came a speed run - totally different energy - and I loved it.

And somewhere along the way, I felt it:

Ok, I still have it.

Last week, during a 35-minute easy run, I hit about 4.5 kilometres.

And suddenly, the thought appeared:

Damn. My 5K goal.

I used to run 5K under 30 minutes - ten years ago.

And part of me really wants that back.

So yesterday, I went out for another “easy” run.

Twenty-five minutes.

But it wasn’t easy.

I was chasing myself.

Pushing the tempo.

Raising the bar with every kilometre.

It felt good - but it wasn’t soft.

Later, I talked to my coach and therapist again:

“If I run easy, I feel like I could run forever.

It’s like walking - just more fun.

But today’s run was different.

I really want to hit my first 5K under 30 minutes.

So I push myself now…

and when I achieved it, I can go back to running easy.

Then I can relax.”

It laughed at me again.

And called my bullshit.

Because this is my pattern.

And honestly - it’s the pattern of so many women I know.

There’s even a meme that says:

ADULTHOOD IS SAYING

‘AFTER THIS WEEK THINGS WILL SLOW DOWN A BIT’

OVER AND OVER

UNTIL YOU DIE.

When this is done.

When that phase is over.

When I hit the goal.

Then I can relax.

And that’s when it said something that really landed:

Rest is not earned.

Rest is chosen.

Not after the 5K.

Not after the desired pace.

Not after proving anything.

Now.

Right in this moment.

That insight felt like a quiet upgrade in my nervous system.

Because when rest has to be earned,

movement turns into pressure.

Care turns into performance.

Desire tightens into infinite, never-enough craving.

Even something joyful - like running - can quietly become another place where we try to earn our badge of honor.

Prove our worth.

It is extremely important to catch ourselves with this patterns as mothers.

In motherhood there are no scheduled breaks.

Praise is rare.

And the work won’t be “done” for the coming 18 years.

So if you’re someone like me -

who learned to earn love, belonging, or being seen through performance…

Welcome to burnout land.

The body doesn’t understand “later.”

It only understands now.

So here are my new rules:

I go at a pace where I can breathe comfortably.

I stop while I still feel good.

I listen to my body and honor the signals she sends.

I do it, when I run,

And I do it especially when I’m with my children.

Because joy doesn’t come from pushing harder.

It comes from staying present and choosing to slow down before running empty.

Rest is not the prize at the end.

It’s the ground we live from.

So for God’s sake - choose a tempo for your life you can actually maintain.

We all know motherhood is not a sprint.

Not a 5K.

Not even a 10K.

It’s a marathon.

And sometimes it feels like an ultramarathon.

But what if, by slowing down,

it could become one of those sunny, joyful runs along the river.

Instead of the mad dash that somewhat feels like you are trying to outrun a monster in a horror movie.