Sunday, 5 July 2009


Today is the day I should have been out there, in Frankfurt, swimming, cycling and riding. A weight hangs on me today. I try and keep perspective, I try very hard to be happy for those who today manage to realise their dreams. But all I have is sadness, for the death of my dream.

Where is the magnanimity I normally possess, the life perspective I always keep? Where is the gratitude for all I have? Where is my strength to fight and go on and the belief that one day maybe I too will be able to race my race?

There is no fight. No noble feelings. No sympathy or gratitude. I wish with all my heart I could let go of the dream and live a life full of other dreams. I wish I could be happy for all my friends who are racing today. And yet I can't.

And it's not about today. It's about the fact that the longer I am away from it, the least likely it seems that I will ever be able to race again. A Marathon? I have enough pain after running 400 meters at the moment. A good day on the track is one when I can run 5 laps (2km) and still sleep at night.

Do I dare keep dreaming? Do I look forward to the day when I can again? Or do I strive to let go?

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