Looking at myself in the mirror for any length of time was a little bit strange to me. Usually I look through a foggy mirror as I throw some gel in my hair in the mornings or as I wash my hands after a bathroom break, or after I splash water on my face and hair before adding more gel after a midday run. But to look for such a long time confirmed something I suspected but don't like to admit. I'm no longer 22. Heck, I'm not even the youthful guy in the photo with my young children. Thankfully my short haircut and spiky gel look belie the fact, as does blond hair that could hide any potential gray, but I'm feeling old. I think the running and the aches and pains that come with it only serve to reinforce that. But yep, looking in the mirror, I can see the lines in my forehead that seem to be a nearly permanent feature, plus I need to shave. On this particular night, I also wore a baseball cap, pushing the spiky hair backwards into a jumbled mess of a wall. But I'm also struck by how I don't see bags under my eyes and my eyes are still seeming to sparkle. I resisted the urge to make faces at myself and kept my mouth firmly closed. I am not sure if I was supposed to generate any great revelation from this, except to say that I'm not a bright-faced young naive idealist anymore. Hopefully I can still be young-at-heart, or at least remain an idealist. Because reality isn't good enough - there's more potential out there'd yet untapped and undiscovered. Both in myself and in the people around me. Especially at work. I feel guilty that work is always so much on my mind. But it is.