This year I turned 50 years old and I thought I know myself like the back of my hand (or like the inside of my pockets as we say in italian), until I come to a mosquitoes infested island in the Caribbean on a medal hunt, only to realize I dont know this person I’m living inside of very well at all.
Stuff happened (lots of it) and my reactions to them have been so unexpected, I hardly recognise myself in my actions. Despite being a bit confusing and uncomfortable, I feel this is so fascinatingly interesting. I realised I don’t care about medals, because they are just the projection of what others think of you, but that I deeply care about how honest I am with myself and that the only thing that counts is to try doing the very best I can. I learned that chickening out is not an option. And that I am 10 times more disappointed for my silver medal dive than about the dive where I blacked out.
I have had no time to sit down and write a proper post about this last week here, but I will have some time to kill during my 48 hours trip back home, so get your reading glasses ready (and a couple of double espressos because you know how long I can drag out even the little things when I’m in the mood).
Thanks for who helped me to get here, I learned so many valuable lessons that I will never forget.
