The Inside Lane

20:01. A respectable 5K time for any 44-year-old, but one agonising second away from my sub 20 minute target.  My initial reaction to my chip time at the Donfaster 5K on Friday was disappointment. Could I have given a little bit more? It didn't take long for me to gain some perspective though. I felt strong throughout the race and paced each lap evenly. I didn't come last in a wave of impressive runners, some of whom finished the course in around 15 minutes. I didn't throw up. What's more, the physical act of running a solid race opened up a psychological door to the belief that, with consistent training and effort, I could achieve a lifetime PB and potentially even break 19 minutes. I am still recovering and I am still healing. What awaits, what feels tantalisingly close, is a new era where I switch gears from surviving to thriving. It feels good to be running fast again. Last push towards the finish line.

I sat in the Doctor's waiting room this morning reading Murakami's 'What I talk about when I talk about running'. It's described as equal parts travelogue, training log and reminiscence, as the author reflects upon the influence running has had on his life. I'm not far into the book enough to form any opinions, but I'm already struck by the similar character traits I share with Murakami who describes being the type of person who "doesn't find it painful to be alone."  I've always been quite introspective. These days that's not seen as the negative character trait it once was. It's almost fashionable to be an introvert and it's not as socially acceptable for the more brash among us to blurt out: "you're quiet." I've always hated that.  While I do enjoy socialising with the right people, running - especially in nature - provides a breathing space from the business and noise of the modern world. I started reading ...

It's approaching a year since we lost our Mum. It's approaching 12 months since I had my last round of treatment. In recent times, I've strived to focus on what I have and what I've gained, rather than what I've lost. It might sound strange but I have developed a sense of gratitude for what acute promyelocytic  myeloid leukemia (aka Cyril) gave me. Cyril critically injured the person I was in early 2025.  Grief killed him. Salman Rushdie said: "To be born again, first you have to die." And I do feel like I have been born again. My experiences have changed the way I think about life and reinforced my priorities. I live a life of genuine gratitude. The aim is not to be happy all the time. It's about being at peace with all of life's inevitable ups and downs. This next phase of my life is about prioritising what matters to me and not doing things to please other people. This means more time for family, friends, loved ones and the activities I'm pa...