I have been underwhelmed by 2013. Isn’t a new year meant to herald inspiration? Where’s mine? Blogs, Facebook and Twitter were bursting with positivity on New Year’s Day: people embarking on their first exercise of 2013, people announcing goals: marathons, ultra-marathons, Ironmans and the like. The peer pressure to do something, anything, was overwhelming. After all, if you can’t start the year on a positive note, what example are you setting for the following 364 days? This time last year I was the goal-setter: running the Fellsman, becoming a member of the Bob Graham Club, rowing the English Channel. I managed them all. The fortune of doing so isn’t lost on me. So what now? I’m not doing the Fellsman this year; I can’t do the Bob Graham again; I’m never rowing ever again. I’ve committed to nothing. Run short and fast, or run long and slower? Head to the hills, or stay on the flat? Don’t run at all? I just can’t decide. A bolt of inspiration-charged lightning will strike, I just know it.