The running race was organised by some friends of ours and we had promised to be there to help. So, no sleep-in on Sunday morning, we were out into the snowy mountain to set up, help marshal, register, hand out t-shirts and generally do a lot of backstage work.
I felt like a kid in a sweetshop no longer. I felt like a deprived adult, on a permanent diet, being able to touch and smell and look at the sweets... but not eat. I chatted with the runners before, I helped them up after the finish, I gave them water, I heard as they complained about their perfomance, all the while jealous to the core of the fact that they could and I couldn't.
I heard of people dissappointed with their race, talking about minutes and seconds they could have saved and it reminded me of me a while ago. Of the times that getting to the finish line was the goal, the driving force. And I realised how goals change over time. My goal is now the startline.