When I signed up for our company’s Mental Health First Aiders Charity Walk, I went in with a completely delusional level of optimism.
A 30-kilometre trek from Wandsworth to Hampton Court along the scenic river route sounded fairly straightforward. It is just walking, right? How hard could it possibly be? Plus, raising money for great causes made it feel like a no-brainer.
But as with most things in life, everything sounds effortless in theory until reality punches you squarely in the face.
Now, I would back myself as pretty fit. I’ve spent the last few years consistently dedicated to the gym, lifting heavy and conditioning my body, so I genuinely assumed I had the stamina in the bag.
Fitness in a controlled environment is entirely different from pounding gravel for hours on end
On top of that, my head was completely empty for this week’s Weekend Essay, so I told myself this would be a picturesque moving meditation. I’d stroll along the Thames, breathe in the fresh air and wait for editorial inspiration to strike.
Spoiler: it didn’t. Because fitness in a controlled environment is entirely different from pounding gravel for hours on end, and wow, this was a challenge on a whole other level.
By kilometre 18, I hadn’t found a shred of inspiration. I had simply dissociated from my physical body.
There was zero high-minded thinking happening behind my eyes. My brain had clocked out, packed its bags and was hovering somewhere above the towpath while my hips, joints and feet staged a full-blown mutiny.
As I dragged myself along, the parallel hit me: this is literally what saving and investing feels like
We tried everything to keep morale alive. My colleagues and I belted out full-throated renditions of Disney classics and gave it our all, delivering dramatic K-pop Demon Hunters anthems, but no amount of theatrical harmony could distract from the deep, throbbing aches setting into my bones.
Every single step hurt. I wasn’t meditating; I was just surviving a relentless, dull pain, desperately trying to push through without sitting down on the riverbank and calling it a day.
And as I dragged myself along, trying to mentally escape how much my body hurt, the parallel hit me: this is literally what saving and investing feels like.
The personal finance world loves to romanticise the long game. We talk about compound interest, regular investing and discipline like it is an empowering wellness routine. You download the app, set up your direct debits, look at a neat little compound interest projection and think, “I’ve got this.” It feels proactive, fresh, and surprisingly easy.
Weekend Essay: How your personality type shapes your money life
Nobody talks about kilometre 18 of your finances.
Kilometre 18 is the messy middle. It is the point where the initial excitement has completely evaporated but the destination is still miles out of reach. You have been sensible, you have cut back, you have put money away month after month, but your bank account still does not look dazzling.
You are not feeling inspired or empowered; you are just exhausted, sick of having to be disciplined and quietly frustrated at how slow the needle moves. No amount of hype or distraction can mask the friction. It is unglamorous and monotonous, and you just want to tap out.
Then came the final 5k into Hampton Court, which was, quite frankly, sickening. The end is always the most brutal part of any endurance test because your brain knows the finish line exists, which somehow makes every remaining metre feel like dragging your feet through wet cement.
The urge to pull the plug is loudest right when you have already done the hardest work
In personal finance, that final stretch is where self-sabotage lives. It is the moment fatigue peaks, an unexpected expense rocks up, or life tests your patience, and that voice whispers: “What is even the point? I could just blow this money, make today easy and worry about tomorrow later.”
The urge to pull the plug is loudest right when you have already done the hardest work.
When we finally collapsed into a pub at the finish line, sinking into a chair with a few well-earned glasses of wine to celebrate, the mood shifted entirely. That first sip didn’t magically erase the blisters or instantly cure the throbbing in my legs, but sitting there, laughing with colleagues and soaking in the relief, made the entire ordeal click into place.
Not to sound too cheesy, but sitting in that pub with a drink in hand kind of felt like a metaphor for the entire financial journey. We spend so much energy obsessing over the sacrifice, the budgets, the restrictions and the unyielding discipline of the grind, that we forget what the end goal is actually for.
Building long-term wealth, clearing debts, or securing your future is never a sleek highlight reel
You do not endure the brutal miles just to stare at a spreadsheet forever. You do it for the moment you get to sit down, exhale, open the bottle and genuinely savour the freedom you spent so long fighting to earn.
Building long-term wealth, clearing debts, or securing your future is never a sleek highlight reel. Most of the time, it is just dragging yourself forward through the mud when you are tired, bored, and thoroughly over the process.
But if you can keep putting one foot in front of the other, the finish line eventually arrives and that glass of wine tastes infinitely better because of the ground you had to cover to get there.
At least, that’s what I’ll try to tell myself the next time I want to give up and splurge on that trip to Brazil.