The Marathon Burnout: 5 Lessons That Changed My Life

Just over 3 years ago I was a very different person.

I was running for my life - chasing meaning, worthiness and belonging in a world that never stops asking for more.

To the outside world I was doing it.

I had a 'dream' job at a bank - being paid an incredibly cheap price for my soul.

I was partying like Studio 54 had never ended, working an inhumane number of hours.

I was 'Succeeding'. 'Smashing it'. 'Living my Dream Life'.

But even amongst the tireless performance, the thirst for self-worth never seemed to be quenched.

My body, meanwhile, was screaming for help and I refused to listen.

I was on a one-way track to disaster, with no brake, the train accelerating with every success, every late night, every hit of validation. And so I continued to feed the beast, I pushed further.

I signed up for the London Marathon with six weeks to train and a completely unachievable sub-3 hour goal (I didn't get it).

I was working 100 hours a week, running 80km and partying each weekend until 6am.

Then the marathon happened.

And my body finally said no.

It shut me down. Lights out. The timer hit zero.

I Burnt Out. Big Time.

That collapse forced me to face the tough questions I'd been running from for years:

• Why am I so afraid of stopping and silence?
• Is this really what 'success' looks like to me?
• What am I trying to prove, and to who?

So what were the costs of this 'successful' life?

What did that 'smash it' mentality really demand beneath the surface and behind the mask of Strava PB's, positive splits and pay cheques?

• My mind had taken the wheel, with my body relegated to the cupboard under the stairs, right alongside Harry.
• Anxiety wore a mask of ambition.
• Chronic sleep deprivation became a badge of honour, proof of discipline and worth.
• I was disassociating from myself. Isolating my mind, shutting out my body and silencing my soul.

It was also crazy how strong the feedback loop was!

Society, friends, family, colleagues - everyone around me genuinely believed I was doing great

"Smashing it."; "Machine"

And to be honest, I really loved hearing it.

This was exactly the validation I was chasing, and in-fact curating.

I was performing a version of success I desperately wanted to believe in.

But beneath the PB's and "Wow's" the truth was simpler and far more confronting - I was on an absolute rocket ship to burnout and breakdown.

But the whispers were always there.

• Fatigue.
• Brain fog.
• Tightness in my chest.
• A constant undercurrent of panic.
• Fixed in an everlasting 'dig deep' mode.
• The low hum of anxiety I couldn't ever seem to shake.

My body was stuck in survival mode, on 24/7 code red.

And I refused to listen.

“Once you start approaching your body with curiosity rather than with fear, everything shifts.”

— Bessel van der Kolk, The Body Keeps the Score

Everything changed after the collapse.

I didn't want to do it anymore, not the job, not the lifestyle, not the constant betrayal of my body and soul.

I knew if I kept going, it wouldn't end well…

So I pulled the ripcord.

Hit the eject button.

I said No.

And while it was the best decision I could have made… my god, it was so unsettling. It still is, even to this day.

I crashed, I burned.

I tried to change gears but the revs were at 8,000 RPM and the clutch on fire.

My nervous system was buggered, my emotions erratic and seemingly uncontrollable.

Anxiety, shame, confusion - I had no idea who I was without the speed, chase and chaos.

• What do I do now?
• How do I stop?
• What's my purpose?

The void within seemed colossal and insatiable, no matter how much I tried to keep busy.

I couldn't sit still.

I even started plotting five different business plans in attempt to soothe the pain.

From the moment my eyes opened to the second my head hit the pillow, I was wired.

Hyper-vigilant and panicked by stillness.

Existing in a world without distraction felt excruciating.

It was ugly, uncomfortable and so very needed!

“It takes courage to say yes to rest and play in a culture where exhaustion is seen as a status symbol.”

— Brené Brown, The Gifts of Imperfection

For years, I desperately sought something, anything, from the outside to plug a gaping hole within - a constant chase of meaning and purpose.

• A better job.
• A faster race time.
• A bigger paycheque.
• The next achievement to 'smash' and 'perfect'.

Its taken me a long time to understand a simple and devastating truth — nothing from the outside can fill that inner void. Nothing. And trying to do so consumes an incredible amount of energy…

When I reflect back, I see now how I was using status, achievement, money and performance to chase something I believed to be conditional… Self-Worth.

• I so desperately wanted to be seen.
• To be validated.
• To be accepted.
• To belong.
• To feel like I was enough. To feel worthy.

Which, in a society fuelled by manipulated social media posts and a bombardment of sub-conscious messages highlighting all that we lack, is extremely tough!

But I've come to learn that this hole, while painful to probe, also presents an amazing opportunity.

It isn't a design flaw or glitch in our makeup.

It isn't something that needs fixing from the outside.

Its actually a space to explore who we really are and what we really need - as painful as it may be to step in to (or even look at!). It is a place where we can peek at what lies behind the covers and check in with our authentic selves.

Btw, worthiness isn't something that is conditional, it isn't something we need to strive to achieve. It is inherent in every one of us, from the moment we wake up in the morning, to the moment we lay for sleep. We are all worthy.

The marathon was my body's final act of defiance. It had been whispering for years - fatigue, tightness in my chest, a mind that wouldn't stop racing.

And I kept ignoring it. So it stopped whispering and it started screaming. And when I still didn't listen, it had no other choice but to shut me down.

That was my wake-up call and the moment my body overruled my mind.

The truth is, our bodies are always speaking to us and its messages are so incredibly wise. It speaks beyond rationality and from a place of intuition and wisdom.

The energy drop around certain people where it doesn't feel right, The mysterious illness that forces you to cancel plans you were dreading, The fog that clouds your thinking when you need to rest.

If we don't listen it manifests in ways we cannot ignore - through burnout, breakdown and illness.