April Bloody April, Nothing Rhymes With April.

[Sweder]

I've always got far more out of training for, as opposed to actually running, marathons. Races for me are a good excuse to train but it's the training I love. Sick monkey I may be but that's the truth of it.

Huge sympathies with MLCMan's cycle of futility; there's always something - injury, illness, work commitments - to stop us achieving what we perceive as our potential. Reading of El Gordo's recent pain got me thinking about how we (in general) so often find reasons - genuine enough - to not reach for the stars. Bob Rotella, the much-parodied golfers' guru, says that the one or two perfect shots a golfer hits in a round is not a fluke but a glimpse of the players' true potential. I've always felt I should be able to run much faster, yet there's some weird psychological barrier that I just can't break through. I get this odd feeling when I'm tired or my calf or knee is playing up that this is the testing point; if I run through this particular obstacle I'll reach another level. I don't of course; I back off, whimpering, softly cursing my misfortune.

Perhaps this is the difference between people who achieve and redefine their goals and the rest of us; when they face those barriers they jump over, go around or run through them. Most of us accept the inevitable, let the waves of reason that pulse from our daily lives wash over us as we take a whispered vow to slay that particular dragon next time.

MLCMan is one of the rare breed who, when faced with a stack of reasons to pack it in, cry 'stuff it' and charge up their mountain, bloody-minded resolve gripped in their clenched teeth like a Gurkha's Kukri. That tale remains one I go back to when I'm feeling sorry for myself. It fills me with shame and inspiration in equal measure, and invariably has me stumbling out the door and into the hills.

[SIZE="1"]Should be enough gratuitous semi-colon usage for ya.[/SIZE]