Unforgiving minute

Rudyard Kipling's If is one of those self affirming poems.  Perfect for reflection on the year coming to an end and for considering the possibilities of the year ahead.

If you can fill the unforgiving minute with sixty seconds' worth of distance run.

That seems to be something of a lifestyle choice for me, and it's not entirely a positive one.  The negative connotations of the snuck in word unforgiving suggest it's not a totally pleasant battle we're fighting to fulfil.  I rather wish I knew how to fill that over demanding minute with sixty seconds' worth of, well, nothing.  Of peace perhaps.  There's always a quest to be doing something either useful or happy provoking.  It must, surely, be possible to balance somewhere else, to accept and acknowledge the value of gentleness.  

The year gone, somehow reminds me of Sex in the City; can you have a great job, a great apartment and a great partner?  It seems to me that at various times through the year things have gone my way, and I start 2014 with a great job.  Well, on paper it seems great, and I suspect it'll be what I make it, and how well it goes will be down to me too.  I'm hopeful of interesting times on the work front.  Not a career, I shirk the concept of having a career, in the terms of those who seek job betterment, salary increases, power, knowledge, authority or whatever it is career ladder types seek.  Interesting times would be nice.

What else might I like from 2014?  I'd like to seek out adventure, new things, new places, new people, new experiences, something fun and different and perhaps just a bit uncomfortable.  Feel fresh air, new fresh air perhaps.  It doesn't happen unless you do something about it ...

Interesting times

It's odd, these should be interesting times.  New job, new challenges, new possibilities opening up.  But somehow I feel boring.  No, not bored, but plain boring.  I have nothing of interest to say to anyone, the spark has died.

I could talk about the experience of being on a Team Sky whole team camp, and the things which struck me as amazing, the unexpected in a team I have worked parallel to since its inception.  I could animatedly express my respect for the work done, the bright people there whose intelligence almost lays you flat to the floor when they let it simply flow.

I could talk about the numerous days of riding my bike on the dry sunlit island of Mallorca, overlooking cliffs, sea, and passing ruins and amazing rock formations while interested goats graze at the side of the road.  I could talk about my plans for 2014, the hazy half made but treasured dreams for Scotland, for Italy, for me, for the bike, for the van.

I could talk about my new role with the team, the stuff I'm learning, the people I'm working with, what was said to me by a Board Member of 21st Century Fox.  I could talk wittily about the social faux pas I managed to come out with in the presence of two TdF winners.

I could, no doubt, unwittingly give away philosophies and works in progress.  Maybe that would make me interesting.  But I have a feeling that anything I could say would somehow feel forced, muted, lacklustre.

Yes, I am boring.