For SHEOVITA Month, Mamello Letsie reflects on what it means to pursue the things that once felt out of reach. From taking on the Absa Cape Epic just months after starting mountain biking to finding courage far beyond sport, Mamello shares how self-belief is built, one promise kept, one uncomfortable step and one attempt at a time.
My relationship with CIOVITA started quite unexpectedly. I didn’t even have 1500 followers when, completely out of the blue, CIOVITA DM’ed, after seeing one of my posts. I hadn’t tagged them, I wasn’t strategically trying to get their attention, and I think a cycling sponsorship was ever on the cards for me. I just loved sharing my journey on my page and simply found me.
At the time, I remember thinking “This is amazing exposure AND free cycling kit? Just to keep doing what I love? SCORE!” I had absolutely no idea what I was gaining. The longer I stayed with the CIOVITA community, the more I realised I hadn’t just found a brand that supported my cycling; as cheesy as this may sound… I found a family. They celebrated the good moments, but more importantly, they stayed through some incredibly dark periods of my life. That is something you don’t forget.
The CIOVITA family cares deeply about community and supporting its riders far beyond simply providing kit. It is full of people who love cycling, yes, but more importantly, they love the community they are part of. I think that is why this feels like the perfect place to talk about The Unachievable. Because if you’ve followed my journey for any length of time, you’ll know I have developed a slightly concerning habit of looking at things I am wildly underqualified for and thinking: “Yup! I could probably do that.”
Sometimes this works out brilliantly, and other times it results in several hours of questioning my life choices. I started mountain biking and, three months later, I attempted the Absa Cape Epic. Most sensible people spend months to years developing their technical skills before attempting one of the toughest mountain-bike stage races in the world. Evidently, I am not most sensible people. I went on to finish it. Twice.
Then there was running. Six months after I started running, I completed Comrades. Again, there were many opportunities during those 85-plus kilometres to reconsider the decisions that had led me there. But somewhere along the way, I realised something important. I have never needed to believe something would be easy to believe that I could do it. There really is a difference; Self-belief is built. We often talk about self-belief as though confident people possess some magical internal certainty the rest of us missed at birth. I don’t think that’s how it works; my self-belief has been built through evidence.
It comes from repeatedly making promises to myself and keeping them. Getting up to train when nobody is watching. Doing another interval when my brain has already said cut the cameras. Learning new skills badly before learning to do them well, failing, trying again and not caring what others would say when I fail and trying again anyway. Eventually you accumulate enough evidence to say- “I don’t know exactly how I’m going to do this, but I trust myself enough to find out.”
That mindset has travelled far beyond sport. Cycling is something I love, but it isn’t all that I am. I’m a business owner and a psychology student. I support women at Bethany Home who have experienced abuse. I’ve worked with people struggling with addiction and the incredibly difficult process of reintegrating into society. Those spaces have taught me as much about courage as any finish line ever could. Sometimes courage is riding hundreds of kilometres. Sometimes courage is leaving an abusive situation. Sometimes it is rebuilding your life after addiction when society has already decided who it thinks you are. Most importantly it’s simply getting through today and trying again tomorrow.
The more people I meet, the more convinced I become that we underestimate what human beings are capable of when they are given support, dignity, opportunity and someone willing to believe there is more to their story. I also refuse to stay in my lane. Possibly to the occasional horror of the internet. I speak about things that matter to me: women in sport, inequality, mental health, social issues, abuse, representation and the uncomfortable conversations society sometimes prefer we avoid. I don’t always get it perfectly right; I don’t think anyone does. But I would rather be willing to learn, speak and occasionally get uncomfortable than become so concerned with being liked that I stop standing for anything.
Particularly as women, we are often taught to make ourselves palatable. Don’t be too loud. Don’t be difficult. Don’t take up too much space. Don’t aim too high because failure might be embarrassing. I’ve slowly learned to reject that; I want women to take up space. I want people who have been told they’re too old, too inexperienced, too slow, too different or simply ‘not enough’ to question who gave somebody else the authority to determine the limits of their lives.
I wasn’t the person who had been mountain biking for years. I wasn’t a fast runner. I haven’t always been fearless or certain of myself. I simply refused to listen to doubt & became willing to start before I felt completely ready.
The Unachievable Moves
Every time you do something you once thought impossible, the boundary moves. The first time, you’re terrified and afraid of heights. Then you survive it. The next time your brain says, you can’t do that, you have evidence and can answer “We’ve heard this before.” That doesn’t mean every dream works out exactly as planned. I’ve failed. I’ve been disappointed. I’ve had races go badly and periods in my life where getting through the day felt considerably harder than getting through any endurance event. Self-belief doesn’t guarantee the outcome, but the process and the attempt is what builds resilience. It gives you the courage to pursue it anyway. So perhaps that’s what staying true to your goals really means. It isn’t blindly believing you are destined to succeed. It’s deciding the possibility of failure isn’t a good enough reason not to try.
Today my dreams are bigger than cycling or any other sporting achievement. I want to grow as an athlete, chef and psychologist, a wife, a friend. I want to keep advocating for women, supporting vulnerable communities, and speaking about issues that matter. Most importantly, I want whatever platform I have to remind people that their current circumstances do not have to determine the size of their future.
And yes, knowing me, I will probably find another completely unreasonable physical challenge and announce that I’m doing it before I’ve had enough time to carefully consider the consequences, at this point, it appears to be a personality trait. But when people look at the things I’ve done, I don’t want them to think “She’s extraordinary. I could never do that”. I want them to think “She started, Maybe I can too.” The unachievable isn’t always something reserved for exceptional people; sometimes it is purely something you haven’t attempted yet.
