Yesterday, my boyfriend invited me to a surprise networking event. He just gave me an address to Uber to. No context other than the words “smart casual outfit”. The address brought me to a sunset-lit villa packed with successful people doing a co-working retreat. All of them were looking for inspiration, courage, and tips to achieve financial freedom.
As my boyfriend welcomed me at the door, the beautiful villa unfolded in front of me. He asked how I was. I murmured that I was tired: a mix of the workout I’d just had and a long day of headaches. My body’s been quietly fighting off the flu that’s made its way through everyone in Cape Town, including my housemates. So, energy levels were objectively low.
After greeting the host, I was introduced to Tasmin, a journalist who’s been working on a documentary about high-performance female athletes. Her work is based on the research of PhD Stacy Sims, a leading voice in women’s exercise and nutrition science. If you’re curious, I’m linking a ‘Diary of a CEO’ episode with Sims to learn more about Stacy and her work in 2h03m.
Sadly, my new friend’s documentary was never released. The sports apparel giant that funded it didn’t like some of the topics covered. Things like the supposedly “negligible” impact of the menstrual cycle in female performance. Apparently, science becomes controversial when it complicates marketing.
I told her I might be able to help. I have a contact at another sports brand, one that’s more open-minded, by industry standards. Today, I reached out to them in hopes we can still bring the documentary to life.
Why am I doing this? First of all, because I want to watch the damn thing. But also because I like connecting people when there’s a chance for something important to exist. Low-energy networking, yes, but not in-executive.
Later, Tasmin asked about Sportiva. I told her it started with something simple: I just wanted to attract a more stimulating, sporty, aligned group of women into my life. Women who move like me. Think like me. Ask the same questions. Give each other valuable answers.
It’s been a life-long challenge to find people with my lifestyle and passions. Through Sportiva, I want to share the insights I’ve gained from the last ten years of homemade, self-studied athleticism: part actual science, part self-experimentation, part obsession. Things like how to train based on how the female body actually works, what to eat, how to recover, how to age well, and the value of long walks with women who inspire you.
The hope is to build a space where those kinds of conversations can actually happen: the real, practical, deeply female ones.
And to be fully transparent, the lack of that kind of community in my current city makes it harder to lead this lifestyle with enthusiasm and creative energy. Every now and then, I feel like a manic gym rat or a quarter-life-crisis-case with no real purpose — not procreating, not partying, just floating between reps and supplements.
When I started to feel like the people around me weren’t aligned with my values (or even interested in them) I stopped pretending. I pulled inward. I became more protective of my time. I learned how to say no without needing a reason. The turning point came in my late teens, and by the time I hit my late 20s, I was deep in an identity shift. I no longer wanted parties. I wanted meaning. I wanted to learn (loads of it), from books partly, but from people mainly.
And I’m not alone in this. I started asking around. A lot of women said the same thing: it’s hard to find your own (new) people after a certain age. Around 30, something strange happens for women: you get the proverbial lifestyle split. Some become moms. Others keep floating. And suddenly the mom-friends, quite understandably, start to drift. You become a background character in their lives. Which makes sense — God forbid it didn’t.
But what’s left? Younger friends? Awkward work colleagues? Disinterested flatmates?
Skeptic via-via friends who slowly become your own extended group of friends, united only by the lack of traditional life rituals like making kids or taking drugs?
This last group (if you’re lucky) eventually softens under the pressure of your endless spam invites to Sunday runs, smoothie tastings, supplement chat, and recovery tools. One by one, these new friends start showing up. Maybe just once a month, maybe with complaints or low energy themselves, but they show up. They become lite versions of you. And you hold onto that.
A few months ago, I watched Diamanti, an Italian film directed by Ferzan Özpetek about a prestigious, women-run dressmaker’s atelier in 1970s Rome. They created costumes for film and theatre. I watched it three times in one week🥹
The relationships in that movie stuck with me. Their work ethic. Their love for their craft. Their loyalty to each other. It was tender and sharp. They supported each other, pushed each other, laughed and fought and kept standing by each other in life, and work. There was honesty. Drama. Depth. And care in every detail.
It made me realise how much I love strong women. I love being around them. I love learning from them. I love being challenged to be better by them. That kind of presence was missing from my life when I was younger, and so I became my own guide. I built the mental structure, made the rituals, found my way through multiple cities, studies, people and jobs. But there’s only so far you can go alone.
Now I want more. More women to admire, to learn from, to support. Even when I show up to a networking event I didn’t want to go to. Even when I’m exhausted and slightly feverish. Even when I’d rather be horizontal with green tea and a vitamin C face mask.
Because every so often, you meet a Tasmin.
You hear a story worth sharing.
You find someone who reminds you that you’re not crazy for wanting more out of your body, your time, your life.
And that’s enough to keep going.
Sportiva Retreats 
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