I always fly high when I run. A diverse hero, rescuer, multiple-time winner of multiple-different events/sports/activities, etc, etc. I've been it all. A lot and often*.
It keeps me motivated, something to strive for (you never know…) and gets me out of bed.
But lately I’ve been having the same occurring dream. I win the Olympics on 10 000m. Obviously finishing the last 200m faster than Bolt’s record time (that is only shown in replay when a very smart commentator/producer decides to match our runs against each other).
"Wow amazing! What a finish!"
The thing is, it still happens in Beijing. I’ll be 31 when London goes off, and that doesn’t really do it for me.
27 is good. "The impossible triumph by the unknown 27-year old Swede."
And I personally take huge pleasure of winning in front of fanatic Chinese on the stands. But that's just me.
* always.
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