Listening

Wednesday morning, and I feel good. The work doesn’t feel easy right now, but I can sense progress underneath it. Enough to stay engaged. Enough to keep giving what I have.

Last night unfolded in an unexpected way. I was sitting alone, watching the coaches train, when a young woman came over and sat beside me. She said she needed someone to talk to.

It struck me as unusual. People here don’t often speak openly about how they’re feeling. What followed wasn’t dramatic — just honesty, shared quietly. She felt forgotten. Left behind. Searching for something she couldn’t quite name.

I recognised it immediately. I’ve lived with those feelings most of my life. They come and go. They don’t necessarily harm you, but they do shape the way you see things. They ask questions, whether you’re ready or not.

I didn’t try to fix anything. I mostly listened. There wasn’t much else to do. And when I eventually walked away, I felt something unexpected — not relief, not responsibility, just a quiet awareness. I understood her feelings, but they no longer pulled at me in the same way.

This morning, I woke thinking about that.

Not with answers.
Just with a steadier sense of where I stand.

Training waits. I know it will be demanding. The discomfort will arrive, linger, then move on — as it always does.

For now, that feels like enough movement for one day.