In last week's world athletics it was considered hugely exciting that Usain Bolt had cut a few hundredths of a second off the world record for the 100 and 200 metres.
Other records were set, races were won on hundredths and thousandths of seconds. All very impressive, unless you're me.
I took S in again this morning and it wasn't seconds we shaved of her personal best, it was minutes.... 15 of them. I know this may not sound like much but when you consider it's a cut of a third off her first run it's pretty damn good. She even overtook me on the road! Hmph!
When on the off-road cycle lane we chatted about her success and she admitted it didn't feel like much as she was only going four-and-a-half miles. I reminisced....
When I started I went around two-and-a-half miles to the nearest station. I walked up the hill, I was completely out of puff when I reached my destination and got home feeling like I was going to die. I did the same route on the weekend and it was so easy it was unreal. I whizzed up the hill and arrived at my destination in less than half the time it took me first time round, I was shocked.
When you've been on two wheels for a while it's easy to forget the humble and breathless beginnings. You no longer recall the searing inner thigh pain, the exhaustion, the wobbly hand signals before you got good at them, your abject terror at overtaking a bus. It would be easy to shrug off five miles as 'really easy'. But next time you pass someone pootling and exhausted, remember that was you once.
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