Early on Friday morning, I was over taken by another runner as I ran up a hill.

His presence was a surprise to me, and after a brief gesture of salute and a show of respect to each other as he passed by me on the outside, I felt strangely disappointed.

Of course, this was an appearance of the critic which quickly reminded me that the progress that I was making in terms of my commitment to running five mornings each week and the resulting improved fitness and weight loss was nothing that special at all.

Being acquainted with my inner critic, helped me listen closely for the voice within which reminded me that running was about pace not race.

I set out on my running each day to feel into a strong physical presence which through the exertion and effort, reminds me that my body holds all that is sacred within me, not my mind.

I have improved my pace over time, but I have never set out to win a race.

The man that passed me, whom I hardly saw, was most likely younger than me, or older and fitter – no matter which.

He may have been sprinting to the end of his run, whilst I was at the start of mine – no matter which.

I have had to learn that my life is about participating as fully as I can in any given moment, and that this connection with all things will fluctuate like the tides of the sea which ebbs and flows relentlessly.

My life is a mystery which I encounter with varying degrees of pace, not race!

My next blog will be: Meal Time

William Defoe.