2012

I was woken by the sound of the rain drumming on our windows early this morning. So that's how the new year starts, I thought. With a downpour. I had had a vague plan to go on a long run this morning, to set the tone for the rest of the year, so to speak. Looking out, it doesn't seem like a good idea any more.

But then there is this:

In a way it is so symbolic, this emptiness in my training diary. The year ahead is an empty slate, a tabula rasa. I get to fill it with whatever I want. This thought is both exciting and scary. The possibilities are endless and the road is long; but on the other hand, shit does and always will happen. 

So, as I watched the fireworks last night, my hopes and dreams for this year were tempered by realism. I don't want to aim too high, but nor do I want to waddle in disillusionment and pessimism. I am wary and guarded as a result of everything that 2011 threw at me, but what good does that do? Life goes on regardless of whether I'm prepared for it or not. I might as well enjoy the ride.