A friend kindly sent me this article from The Guardian. I don't know the writer, but I feel a deep sense of connection with his outlook.

His motivational technique for example:
surrounded by very short young women, whose legs must have been half the length of mine, I told myself I was pathetic if I couldn't keep up with them
sounds very much my kind of thing.

He's also touched on something thats been niggling me for a while too - what next?

He had a curry and went on holiday. I will just stop running. I can't imagine wanting to do it again, unless I have some kind of mystical epiphany on the way round and God/Allah/Vishnu/the Flying Spaghetti Monster tells me the purpose of my life is to carry on and bring us Olympic glory in long distance running.

Not likely, me thinks.

So, I'll probably be left with a sense of unease and disappointment - an effect I normally work my ass off to achieve on others.

Something to look forward to I guess!

Anyway, off to register and collect my number now. I'll keep my eyes open for a sense of purpose while I'm out

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