It seems like nowadays, we never wait for anything.
It's often the waiting that is the best part, the anticipation, the build-up towards the special thing, but now the special things seem to come (or are supposed to come) on a week-by-week, day-by-day or even hour-by-hour basis.
We search for the dopamine hit left, right, and centre, or someone telling us how good we are or how well we've done or celebrating something related to our achievements at work, in life, or with our family or any of these things.
I thought about this stuff as I'm keeping a close eye on the Olympics, even though I'm in my office as I write this just now waiting to see what happens with the tennis to see if there's another special moment like there was another night with Andy Murray or another special cycling moment like it was with Tom Pidcock or another special moment like there was in the swimming pool with Adam Peaty or another one or another one.
The problem is I can hardly remember the special moments because there were so many special moments just before that for me at Glastonbury or before that, for me at the Euros or before that for me travelling here or there or wherever.
And then all of a sudden, the moments roll into one, and I haven't waited for any moments. The next ones are coming down the track, and then that becomes normal. The problem with normal is, well, it's not special; it's normal, isn't it?
I'm not disgruntled, upset, or fatigued by any of this; it's just an observation.
The next four or five weeks of my life are very normal. They're very straightforward: I just do the bits and bobs that I do on a day-to-day basis. I'm not going on holiday; I'm not travelling anywhere. I'm just coming to work in the day, doing the best I can. I'm going home and doing the best I can there, maybe riding my bike a little bit and trying not to get any fatter than I already am.
It seems to me that the next four weeks could be the most special weeks of the year, let alone the most extraordinary things I've done.
Sometimes, we have to restock the boiler and recoil the spring. Wonderful, magical moments every single day very quickly become normal, not magical moments.
It's worth telling myself that regularly, I think.
Blog Post Number - 3886