The 6 inches

As I down another coffee while taking a break from typing up my final year project, my thoughts drift towards orienteering (as usual).

My first serious senior race. Inishbofin 3 day. It was a beautiful summers day. A slight breeze. A perfect afternoon for a fast middle distance. I remember going out hard and having an ok run. Finishing 3rd I think. Following the race after the race analysis and splitzing... I realised I had taken a few nice scalps - the one I was most proud of was Andrew Quinn. He had won the national championship there two years previous.

I was cocky as hell. Writing off everyone the next day. Thinkin I was the man.

Needless to say Andrew destroyed me and the entire field. It was a harsh lesson in respect.

2 years later, 2 years stronger..... Last year I took another silver in the Irish Championships.

Putting the so called Elites to the sword, running hard and aggressively on beautiful open mountain.

It's 3 days till the biggest race of the year. People can say its WOC, people can say its Tiomila, people can say anything. The Irish Championships is the race I want to win.

Some people dream of a WOC final..... I just want to say I'm number one.

I'll tell you this

in any fight

it is the guy who is willing to die

who is going to win that inch.
And I know

if I am going to have any life anymore it is because

I am still willing to fight

and die for that inch

because that is what LIVING is.

The six inches in front of your face.

I can only control me. My actions, my thoughts, my result.

Bring on the Irish Championships!