You may have clued on before me, but it seems I have well and truly been bitten by the running bug.

Today I caught the train from Girona to Madrid, and as I sat watching the fields and mountains whizz by, all I could think about was running.

I thought about how marvellous it would be to be out there, making my own way on foot across this beautiful country.

I could still feel the rhythmic twist of my torso as my arms and legs propel me forward. The soft pounding of my footfall across gravel, grass and sand. The sweat streaming from my body as I push myself up another hill. The endorphins flooding through my body as I fly down the other side. The incredible sense of accomplishment as I stop and look behind me to see how far I’ve come.

This is suddenly about so much more than some race.

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