New running shoes...new wings to fly.

As per Merton, the 'real' journey is an interior one.

Long sleep. Dreamed I was acting in a play, one that I wrote, big production, capacity audience and I did not know one word of the text. Behind the curtain, frantically paging through the script, looking for the key, for some clue to what it was about, of what I was to say.

My moment came, I improvised some lines. My fear of failure came across as a focused intensity. I stumbled through the scene. Afterwards, people praised my smouldering performance. Brandoesqe. Shades of James Dean. I was shaken, clueless, unfulfilled.

I bathed in the light, and the light had blinded me.