A perfect day.

I walked in the middle of the pack, we were all heading towards the startline. It was a fresh morning –  pretty cold but sunny, and the surroundings were just beautiful. We were in the countryside, and an amazing scenery was to be expected over the course ahead. A perfect day for a half-marathon. I was excited to support my close ones that day, and I was so happy to have been part of the training leading up to this event, although in another way now than being the actual athlete myself. I had been the coach, and was about to see inspirational achievements take place in the next couple of hours, and it really was an exciting moment. But the feeling of walking amongst the runners also brought me back to memories of a past which no longer is reality for me. The emotions a few minutes before start – it would be nerves mixed with a thrilling sensation about getting to do what I loved the most. To run on a cold, fresh and sunny morning, together with other likeminded people. A perfect day.

I walked in the middle of the pack but when we arrived to the startline I would take a step aside because this time I was there as a spectator. And nobody knew, but tears were running down my face. Will I ever be one of the runners lining up on that startline again?