No one is going to write a book about my life. That much I’m fairly certain. In fact, I’m always quite shocked that people actually read my blog.
Though I’d still write it even if people didn’t read it. I find the whole process very cathartic and it’s a great way to keep track of races, restaurants and significant events and the fine, mundane details surrounding them that I’d probably never remember otherwise. I’ve often referred to my blog when trying to remember certain things – like where was that place I went to that had that amazing cake? Or what time did I run that race two years ago? Or just being able to flick back to old posts and see how much I’ve changed, or in some cases, how I haven’t changed at all.
But it’s not ground-breaking stuff. I’m not smashing through glass ceilings with my critical thinking and diverse approach to different topics. I’m not even that great a runner. I’m middle of the pack and, worse still, injury-prone. My running is not exactly awe inspiring and I’ll never get super fast times or do a super amazing challenge (spoiler alert on my life right there, guys).
I’m not selling myself short. I’m not being pessimistic. I’m just being honest. That honesty doesn’t make me sad. And I don’t want to be famous (jeeze, what would I be famous for? I daren’t even think… some weird cake eating competition or girls vs. food event – but even at that I’m hardly remarkable to the people who genuinely do those things).
In general, I’m a very happy person. Day-to-day/hour-to-hour this obviously changes (I hate you, commute! *shakes fist*) – as it does for everyone. But when I get home at night, lock my door and get into bed, I’m happy – alone but not lonely. I don’t have any huge regrets in my life, aside from small and insignificant ones (why didn’t I start running earlier?).
I don’t regret getting married and that period of my life. We had good memories together and it helped me grow during that time. And when it ended I learned a lot about myself as a single person, rather than being part of a pair.
It was actually something my physio said to me that made me think. He said, “People underrate feeling fine”. They only come to him when they’re in pain or something’s not right. Then they only realise how incredible feeling normal and not in pain actually is. I know this well; it’s always a momentous occasion when I tell my physio that I feel fine.
This same logic applies to life. Though my life is so very average, that’s OK because I’m happy. I have no major gripes: I’m healthy, I have a loving family, a solid group of friends, I have no money issues, I enjoy my job, I don’t think I look too much like Quasimodo in the great scheme of things, I have a lovely flat and, of course, Alfie. Yes it’s average, mundane and, to a lot of people, boring but I’m happy and healthy, and that is certainly not something to take for granted.
Sometimes I think it’s important to take stock. Your stock may not be one in a million or the stuff of blockbusters, but if you’re happy and healthy, that stock is pretty damn good.
Are you above average at anything?
Would you ever want to be famous? And what for?
Perhaps a fairly personal question, but are you happy?