9 seconds

I've just taken up running again after a long time, with a 10K coming up on the 22nd. Using this as an excuse to get my ass back out there on the tarmac.

Oh, how I've missed those shin splints.

When I run, I get into this zone. The world moves slower. Time moves slower. I get goosebumps. Tunnel vision.

After the 3K mark, the pain in my legs goes numb and ceases to exist. I have a death stare on my face, and somehow, I manage to sprint the last 500m.

It is nothing short of euphoric.

For context, I ran almost 300kms in 2020. I was obsessed.

And in 2025, I might just obliterate that record.

While I'm out here wrestling with minutes over kilometers, Bolt once spent four years of his life obsessing over nine seconds.

Just nine.

"I trained 4 years to run 9 seconds," he said, "And people give up when they don't see results in 2 months."

That hit me harder than any runner's wall ever could.

Because here's the thing about those nine seconds: they weren't just seconds. They were chapters in a story that began long before the starter pistol fired. Each of those seconds was the pure product of blood, sweat, and tears, multiplied with time. And lots of it.

While the world saw the gold medals and that iconic lightning bolt pose, they missed the countless hours of physiotherapy, the strict dietary regime, and the solitary moments of doubt.

Four years. 1,460 days of relentless dedication. All for 9 seconds.

This isn't just about running anymore, is it?

We're all chasing our own nine seconds.

Maybe yours is the moment you earn your first dollar. Or when you finish your most complex art piece, your magnum opus. Or when you finally get that bicep vein popping.

These moments might seem brief, but they're built on a foundation of countless invisible hours – the early mornings, the late nights, the failed attempts, the quiet persistence.

Here's 4 things I've learned:

• The Zone is Earned 
  That euphoric state I hit after 3K? It doesn't come for free. It's a reward for pushing through the initial discomfort. Same goes for any pursuit – the flow state, the breakthrough, the moment of clarity – they're all on the other side of showing up consistently.
  

• Pain Changes Form 
  Whether it's shin splints or self-doubt, the initial pain doesn't disappear – it transforms. It becomes familiar. Manageable. Sometimes even welcome, because it signals you're pushing your boundaries.
  

• Time is Relative 
  Some days, a 5K feels like forever. Other days, it flies by. What matters isn't the time on the clock, but your willingness to keep moving forward, regardless of pace.
  

• The Real Victory is in the Revival 
  Coming back after a break isn't a step backward – it's proof of resilience. Every time you return to something you care about, you're building more than just strength or skill. You're building character.

Here's the truth: we all have a tendency to overestimate what we can achieve in two months and underestimate what we can achieve in four years.

The magic lies not in the grand gestures or the dramatic transformations, but in the quiet commitment to show up, day after day.

So the next time you feel like progress is too slow, remember: Bolt needed four years for nine seconds. I needed months to build up to 300km. And whatever mountain you're climbing – be it physical, mental, professional, or personal: it deserves the time it takes to summit it properly.

Here's your challenge for this week: Pick your nine seconds.

Name it. Claim it.

Then do one thing today that brings you closer to it. Just one thing.
Tomorrow, do it again.

Because four years from now, you'll wish you had started today.

Keep going. Keep pushing. Keep showing up.

Until those nine seconds become yours.

P.S. see you at the finish line?