The deflated beach ball moment

The first week of my summer holiday, I got rejected for book funding I'd been hoping for. I felt like a deflated beach ball - again.

You know when you're waiting for something like this - you just can't stop your brain from seeing the world as it would be if the stars aligned: The acknowledgment. The feeling that you're doing something others believe in. The financial breathing room that would let you structure your work differently for the rest of the year.

Then with just a ping on my phone and a cold, straight-to-the-point message: "We regret to inform you..."

In spite of my sometimes annoyingly positive mindset, I have to admit that my first thoughts were pretty dark. This is hopeless. I'm worthless. Nobody cares.

Sound familiar?

I sat there in the summer house we were renting with friends, trying to downplay the whole thing to my husband and our friends as just another bump in the road. "This is life as a solopreneur, you know - I'm sure there will be other opportunities. And by the way - pizza or barbecue this evening?"

At the same time - inside my own head - I was desperately looking for reasons why they didn't like my proposal. What didn't they see? Why isn't this valuable for the world? And then, as I always do, trying to defend to myself why I'm being so stubborn about this work. How to justify refusing to start applying for "normal" jobs. Again. Oh, I've been here so many times.

When frustration becomes fuel

The next morning, I woke up remembering exactly how frustrated I'd felt the night before. How completely insane it seemed that the funding committee couldn't see what I saw. I felt this strong urge to hit something. Or at least send a complaint.

Instead, I did what I know makes me a better person: I went for a run.

Like out of the blue, the whole family decided to join me, teenager and all. And there we were - like one of those super irritating "look at us" families you see on social media - covering beautiful coastal trails together. (I promise, we are not like that normally. I actually think this was one of the first times this has happened). We didn't go far, or fast, but for me that run made something click:

My body works. We're healthy. I'm here with my family. This resilience - this working engine - is what actually carries me through every setback, every rejection, every moment of wanting to punch something really, really hard.

A working body can process frustration and find new paths. A failing body will be stuck.

The solopreneur health crisis

This moment made me think about something I see everywhere in my world - in climate communities, social entrepreneurship circles, impact-driven spaces of all kinds:

Brilliant, passionate people worked completely into the ground.

Bodies that just won't listen anymore. Minds so exhausted they can't think straight. People wiped out for months, sometimes years. And to be clear: this isn't something happening just to people working solo - it's everywhere in society.

But the big difference is this: When someone with a "normal" job burns out, they have safety nets. Sick leave without losing everything. HR departments. Paychecks that keep coming while they recover.

When a solopreneur burns out?

We ARE our jobs. Without us, the business doesn't work. No us, no impact. No business, no income. No mission fulfilled. The whole thing just stops.

My engine has saved me before

This isn't the first time my health routines have saved me. When I lost my job almost a decade ago (yikes, how time flies!), having that automatic morning exercise routine was literally what got me out of bed each day. It kept me from sinking into a hole of hopelessness and negativity.

Every time I go for a run, walk, or do some movement, my mood shifts. Ideas spark. Solutions appear. Energy returns for the tasks at hand.

I know this sounds like a cliché, but I've practiced it for years now. And I promise you - hand on heart - I don't do this to win races, look good on Instagram, or share miles on Strava.

I do this because I want my engine working at its best. For my best work, my family, my friends, and everyone who needs me showing up at my best.

We can't talk about impact-driven work without talking about health. It's like planning an epic road trip without ever checking if the car actually runs.

Why I need to get this book out of my head

That morning run with my family crystallized something I've been thinking about for a long time: We need to have this conversation.

Especially those of us working solo on the heavy stuff - climate crisis, social justice, systemic change, all the massive challenges that feel so urgent we think we can't afford to rest.

That's why I'm working on the e-book "Beyond Burnout: Your Health Co-Pilot for Sustainable Impact Work" (or something similar - still a working title).

Because your health isn't vanity or self-indulgence. It's infrastructure. It's the foundation that everything else is built on.

And if you're working on changing the world, we need you healthy for the long haul.

What's next

I'll be sharing more about this journey in the coming weeks - the research, the frameworks, the real talk about what it actually takes to sustain yourself while doing work that matters.

In the meantime, I'm curious: How's your engine running these days? 💚

PS: What about that book I got rejected for, you might wonder? Well, it’s still there, spread out in space between my head and the pages of a book. I still think it has its place in the world, and I’m definitely not giving it up! To be continued…

(A version of this essay was also published in )

I'm not talking about the kind that focuses on prepping your summer body or beating some kind of record, but the kind of health focus that keeps you from getting sick - the one that lets you move and work and live the way you want to. This is something I'm feeling increasingly strongly about as I age.

And I've come to realize that my health is the foundation of everything.

I really mean everything. At a certain point - a few years down my solopreneur and "finding myself" journey - I even moved "health" from fourth to first place on my list of values in life.

What?! Do you value your own health more than your family and values like empathy and kindness?

Well, yes. And no.

Here's how I see it: If I get sick, I can't show up for my family the way I want to. I can't stay focused, creative and curious in my work. I don't have the same capacity to show kindness. I can’t be there in the same way to help my parents who are getting older. I can't keep doing my podcast, writing, mentoring, creating... Absolutely everything falls apart if my health falls apart.

And in a world that feels like it's becoming more and more absurd and uncertain, I belive health is one of the most underrated forms of resilience. Everything else becomes harder if your health breaks down.

I often feel this topic is a bit difficult to bring up. If I'm in a group of friends and we talk about what we do when we have a bad day, and I cheerfully say, "I go for a run!" - I don't know, but it feels a bit like smacking a wet shoe in the head of the friend who just admitted to going for Ben & Jerry's and the sofa. So to keep everyone in a good mood, I often downplay it. I skip the part where I want to share how the run gives me new ideas, how it takes away anxiety and scary thoughts, how it's the best start to the day I can think of, and how - over years and years of keeping this a part of my life - it has gotten me through some of the most challenging parts of the journey.

My runs have remained one of the few constants during times when everything else felt up in the air. I think maybe this is the most important part. That time when I lost my job. The year my father got sick. Those years the whole world shut down. That exercise routine has been a constant - even if it's just 15-20 minutes sometimes - that gives me a sense of normality and always a welcoming boost of "happy hormones".

My own Ted Lasso

I started talking about health and gradually moved toward running. Why? Because running is so simple, and it has a strangely contagious effect on everything else. I noticed that alcohol made my sleep really poor, which then affected how I felt the next day and my performance on my morning run. So now I rarely drink, I try to sleep well, eat properly, and so on. It’s a domino effect.

And I haven't even started on the mental part of it!

Do you know “Ted Lasso”? The Netflix series about the super-positive American football coach who's brought to London and completely transforms the culture of an English football team with his inspiring way of being and coaching. It's about football, but it's also about everything else in life.

I feel like I have my own Ted Lasso in my earphones whenever I run. It's Nike Running's head coach, , from Nike's free running app (no, I'm not sponsored). I've had him with me for the last couple of years.

And he always says something like:

"This is about running. This is not about running."

And that's exactly it.

While I'm getting on the treadmill or heading out on another morning run, it's absolutely not only about running. It's about how to keep going when it gets hard. How to deal with setbacks. How to go out there even when I don't feel like it. How to be present. How to trust the process. And Coach Bennett talks about this, in so many different ways - on the speed runs and long runs, in preparing for a race (I don't race, I just pretend I will) or coming back from a long break. This is like a running coach, a psychologist, and a mental trainer all in one.

Almost without exception, I end the run with some insight about something that has nothing at all to do with running. And I always feel so much better! (except for that day in May last year when my hamstring said stop and went on strike for a few months - no “happy hormones” in sight)

I can honestly (hand on my heart) say that I'm not doing this to look good on Strava or to brag about it on Substack. Maybe it's an age thing. My focus now is to be able to work and live the way I want as long as possible. I'm doing it so I can stay positive. So I can keep working in my one woman company. So I can handle the ups and downs that come with being human - as well as a solopreneur.

I don't think there's enough conversation about this. And maybe it's because health and exercise are so tied to perfection, looks, and performance. But it's not a race. Not a competition.

It's about making sure our bodies can carry us in the best possible way well into old age, so that we can continue doing what we want to do. So that we can tackle uncertainty and chaos, which unfortunately is rather relevant for many people in the world right now.

So this is my gentle nudge to you (at the risk of being that annoying friend): take your health seriously. Not just for your body - but for your creativity, your resilience, your ability to listen, to lead, to care.

And maybe try running. Or walking. Or dancing in the kitchen. With Coach Bennett in your ears - or not. Whatever keeps you coming back the next time. And the next.

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