I went on a date (I actually found some time!) recently and when the conversation turned to interests, I told him my story – how I was training for an IronMan and about my injury. Then I found myself trying to convince this guy (who also runs marathons) of my fitness – my extreme fitness – and it occurred to me that I was acting like a guy in a changing room measuring my dick against his. I’m sure he didn’t care how far I used to run, and I’m not sure why I felt like it was a competition. But with sport as a major common interest, the conversation went on and on and got rather detailed about training, and it kept occurring to me that I was sounding really boring. I work (full-time), I train (around four hours a day before work and all weekend) and I have a dog. That’s about it. That’s all I have time for. I have an amazing group of friends and the best family, but hell, even I’m known to cancel on mates so I can fit that second training session of the day in after work. Because there’s something in me that lives and breathes this sport. Out of everything in my life, it’s the one thing that doesn’t cause me stress or anxiety – it’s my passion.