From 60 to 0

 

Nothing really feels normal anymore, except the flux of uncertaincy we've all had to embrace over the past year and a half. 

Friday night I was down in London for Bellator 267. 

My process, in terms of travel, has remained the same since this adventure started all those years ago. 

The easiest way to get there, and the earliest way to get home. 

Recently, I lost a good friend of my teenage years. 

It really hit me hard, but also it changed my outlook in a few ways. I've got better at addressing priorities, and trying to cut out as much of the unnecessary things as possible, and I realise more that we need to make the most out of the opportunities and the time that we do have.  

I got the train down to London on Friday morning pretty early. I've done Stoke to Euston so many times, it's such an easy jaunt on the train. I played Metroid and listened to podcasts and I was there before I knew it. 

There's still something odd about getting to a hotel room with nothing to do. I don't have a particularly hectic life to be honest with you, but I still finish unpacking my bags, get a cup of tea made and take time to appreciate the time ahead without an immediate schedule. 

The show itself was fantastic, and it was great to see some familiar faces. 

Even after all these years, judging fights still remains the one constant in my life that allows my mind to completely focus on a singular track, it's like nothing else. 

I can't tell you what it feels like when the lights go down, when you're sitting in that chair, and when the bell rings. It feels like absolutely nothing else. It's everything, just everything. 

After the event I went to get food with my friends, before heading off to bed. It was about 2 am, and I'd bought an off peak return for anytime Saturday. 

My challenge however, which always keeps these things interesting, was to get back as early as possible. 

I got to sleep at about 2:15 and got up a few hours later at 5:45. It was so dark outside, I'd already packed all my stuff up, so I left the hotel and got on my way. 

I jumped on the train at Wembley Park, and got off at Euston Square, before a quick walk down to Euston Station. 

It was about 6:50 and the next train home was 7:20. I was really happy with this, and as it started to go light outside, I briefly reflected on what I'd seen the night before, that was before the number of the platform came on the board and everyone walked as fast as possible in that direction. 

Nobody ever wants to run do they? I get it though, but still, I mean I walked really fast, but never once thought about breaking into a stride. 

The train was fairly busy but, in the current climate, you're usually guaranteed a couple of seats. 

I got back to Stoke at 8:45 and it was raining, fairly predictably, but it my good lady wife's day off, and as much as I could call her for a lift, it didn't seem fair. 

So I thought I'd walk, it's only about 1.5 miles, and I could trek up the canal. 

I stopped at Subway for a breakfast sandwich, and a cup of tea that legitimately kept me warm for ages, and began the journey. 

Another rule of mine when travelling, is to try and go as light as possible. For this leg of the trip, I had Jeans/T Shirt/Suit Jacket and Doc Martens which double as both casual and event footwear.

In my backpack I had a shirt, tie, t shirt and a few other bits. Just the essentials!

As I neared my home, getting progressively more wet and cold, I was struck by the silence and the serenity of my journey. 

I walked past houses full of presumably still sleeping residents, appartments with curtains drawn, and an empty pathway without a cyclist or dog walker to be seen. 

That's the bit that got me the most, it felt like I was the last human being alive for a brief second, which contrasted so sharply with the neon chaos I'd experienced the night before. 

That's the bit you're never, ever prepared for. 

0-60 is exhilerating, it's exciting, it's a rush. 

60-0 always catches you off guard. 

And in some ways, I think it always will, but I'm fine with that because as I grow older, I appreciate the serenity more and more every day. 

I got home and in from the rain and the cold, to be greeted by my dogs and my lovely wife. I made us a hot drink, unpacked my stuff and caught up with everything and everyone. It was fantastic. 

It felt so good to be home, and it's been a glorious few days, but I can't stop thinking about that walk home and how strange a juxtaposition it was between the thousands of screaming fans packed into the SSE Arena, and a row of angry looking ducks, clearly weighing up what was left of my sandwich. 

I'm sorry it's been so long, but nothing has made me want to write until now. 

Take care my friends, I won't leave it so long again.