Rebecca Gardiner

My Hollywood dreams will have to wait. But at least they are something to distract me from the omnipresent pit of anxiety that has taken up residence in my stomach.

Is sub-urban kind of like sub-human? That question has confronted me this week as I attempt to train at a weeklong exec-education course in New York City.

I’m antsy like a nest full of extra antsy ants. And worse, it seems the only thing feeding off that extra energy is self doubt.

Help Wanted. My running mix has become punitive.

My trackaphobia harkens back to elementary school days when my lack of athletic prowess was forcibly displayed on a god-awful oval during end-of-year “fun track-meets”.

Robert Cheruiyot’s Boston record is, quite simply, super-human. But, if you had told me 10-years ago that I would even be training for a marathon, I would have found it equally unfathomable.

Why is it that the word ‘effort’ sounds so much like ‘f-it’? It seems it’s no mistake that the harder I try the more I want to give up.

Forget “I am woman, I am strong” or “I am an athlete”, that’s lame, I have a new running mantra

It turns out long distance running isn’t all glamour shots and sprinkles.

My girls give the term ‘Active recovery’ new meaning. Sunday, post-race, they officially became my latest coaches.

The butterflies are gone and the participaction medal is around my neck. Here’s how Around the Bay went down.

A recent study debunks popular theories to conclude Kenyans are better runners because their fairy godmothers made them so.