ive never looked my dreams and goals straight in the face before. it was an intimidating and emotional experience. These dreams i hold so tight in my heart are actually what keeps it beating. who knew? I toyed with the idea of being mediocre. at the ease of it.
My body and soul would be so much better off.
but my heart and sprit would cease to exist.
Facebook was my muse as i sat bed ridden and home alone to dwell on my reality. i was in a dangerous and toxic space full of hate, anger and helplessness. I could do no more then feel sorry for myself and lost all sense of hope and freedom. i felt like a prisoner in my own consciousness. Where sleep was my wonderland. My freedom. and i escaped to it as often as i could. i sat counting the days and even the training sessions i had missed, and the ones i had left to come. i sat there thinking about the athletes who have put the target on my back and were training hard to catch me. and all i could do was feel more angry, more helpless.
I always said that athletics is life or death.
i didnt realise how much i took that to heart.
For the better part of a week, i contemplated quitting.
a word normally not even known to be in my thoughts, not even in passing. but this word lingered and grew in the corner of my mind until it was the only thing i could think about or wanted.
Then, I was then given a choice.
Catch or be caught.
Freedom or fail.
All or nothing
and it wasnt til everyone told me i shouldnt, wouldnt or couldnt come back from this that i realised that i must. not only that i must come back from this but i owed it to myself and to the last 16 odd years of my life. By quitting now, i would have given those who doubt me the victory. after all, this is war. i know the potential consequence of my actions, i know the risk. Like a solider knows the risk of going to war, but he would much rather die heroically in battle then give them easy victory.
All or Nothing.
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