It's 5.45 on a Sunday morning at the National Water Sports Centre in Nottingham.
I'm sat here on my own.
It's Outlaw half day, and I've been here for over an hour watching the sunrise.
I'm helping Louis out as he competes in the Outlaw Half Iron distance triathlon for the third time, hoping to show massive improvement on last year in his quest to be whatever his quest is to be.
I'm watching everybody rack their bikes and get their equipment ready and be nervous and anxious and queue for the portable toilets and all of that stuff that goes on before people start swimming at six o'clock in the morning when nobody else cares about what they're doing.
I'm sitting in my own little piece of nowhere, thinking about things that have happened in the past and things that I'll never do again, and nobody cares.
Nobody cares about the lady in front of me who's racking her bike, taking the bags off so the bars don't get wet and stressing about whether her equipment is in the right place.
Nobody cares about the guy five up from that who has a chance of finishing in the top 20.
Nobody actually cares about the guys down the front who will be vying for the lead.
In the end, when the guy who's been leading for almost the whole race blows up on the last half of the run, and someone else comes through to win and claim the right to have a pro licence in triathlon, nobody really cares.
I can't even remember his name, even though I watched him cross the finish line.
There are 1800 people here in their own little bit of nowhere, with lots of people watching who more than double the numbers.
So, let's say 5000 people in and around and working and supporting and helping in something which is insignificant and doesn't really make a difference to anybody, not in a massive way, anyway.
Just a little bit of nothing in everybody's little piece of nowhere but for me, it's pretty profound.
It takes me back to things that I've done in the past, things that I loved, things that made me proud, things that dialled into a little bit of who I am and what I am and what I believe.
And so, what you realise when you're in the middle of these things is everybody's little piece of nowhere adds up to somewhere, and then this little piece of somewhere adds up to the more significant, greater part of somewhere, which is society overall.
We're all making a little contribution, positive or negative, every minute of every single day.
And so, just because nobody gives a shit about who that old bald getting fat round the middle guy sat over there is, what he's done or where he's been or where he's going to go doesn't mean your contribution won't add up to something in the end when it's added to everybody else's.
I was reminded as I was sat there by David Mitchell's novel Cloud Atlas, and at the very end, as the author of The Old Ship writes in his book, we're all just a drop in the ocean, but after all, what is the ocean if it is not just a collection of drops?
Blog Post Number - 3451
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