And I really thought I would.

It’s been a rough month. A lot of family health issues, my own health issues, and now COVID has left me not training for the last month – the longest period I have had away from sport since being diagnosed 9 years ago. My previous record before this block was 2 weeks…record smashing (that’s me).

Normally, with these periods of being away, I’d miss you, sport. I would normally long for those training sessions; The feeling of my legs burning, my lungs aching, my tunnel vision becoming stronger, sweat filled t-shirts and bib shorts and a sense of accomplishment that only seemed to come with a green filled box on Training Peaks.

And yet, I don’t.

I don’t miss you. I don’t even know why. You have given me so many amazing things. You have been responsible for some of the highest of highs, and the lowest of lows. You showed me what was achievable if I really put my mind to it. You were the catalyst for so many of my closest friendships; sport bonds people like very little else. Yet now, sitting here writing this, I don’t miss you. I don’t long for those sessions or races and I don’t knowhow to feel about it all. In all honesty, I wish I had an answer as to why I feel this way.

Is it because even with all of the mess regarding my own health over the last month, my mornings are somehow better? My pain is reduced. I’m not waking as often in such pain to make me sick. My day-to-day, while still bad, is not anywhere near as bad as ‘healthy’ me. How messed up is that?

Or, is because I am not longer at a constant battle with my body and mentally I am better off not constantly being in a war of attrition with myself? Forcing my body to do things it should not be doing.

Or is it because I have finally come to terms with the fact that this world was not for me to begin with? That’s ok.

Not all of us get to become the things we dream of becoming.

I got pretty close though.