Would they ever do it? They did. In 1995, Blackburn Rovers finally won the Premier League, after several seasons of just missing out on the top prize. But that was their only modern moment of glory. The following season they dropped to 7th, and the year after that, to 13th. They never regained the title, and seem unlikely to over the next several years. It was as if the focus and effort required to reach their goal finished them off. What else was there after that?
This is the Blackburn Rovers syndrome.
It’s very similar to what runners call the marathon blues — the sense of anti-climax that follows the event they’ve trained so long for. After a gruelling journey lasting months, suddenly they find themselves splattered against the buffers, with nowhere obvious to go. A catastrophic loss of motivation follows, featuring startling quantities of beer and uncontrollable internet chatter.
There is no short term fix in my case. The only way out is gluttony, leading to self-loathing followed, eventually, by a renewed sense of purpose. This renewal produces a flurry of race entries. Today I signed up for the Reading Half, giving me three of the blighters to wave a stick at from afar. The other two are Almeria and the Connemarathon Half. It should be enough fuel to get this misfiring engine comfortably idling once again.
Another 50 minutes in the gym this evening: cross-trainer, bike, and 25 minutes on the treadmill. No easier than yesterday’s session.
