When someone is better than me at something, a strong discomfort I can't explain wells up. It isn't discomfort directed at that person. It's more like disgust directed at myself. I know this isn't good for me, health-wise or mentally. But over the years I've come to accept that discomfort and learned to use it productively to get better. Even if that someone who's better than me has spent decades devoting every waking hour to that skill, I can't make excuses, and I often convince myself that I'm pathetic if I'm not better than them. It sounds ridiculous written down, but it's the truth. That discomfort may fade as I get older, but right now I still have a long way to go as a person, so I intend to keep using it for a while. My ego may be too big. I may be too arrogant. One possible cause is that I never once won an individual event when I was at secondary school. Of course I received medals and awards, and as part of a team I won lots of matches and tournaments, but it never felt like a genuine victory. Most of the time I finished second, third, or fourth. The frustration of that time left quite a mark, so I started to develop a bit of a complex. In the years that followed, whatever I did, I'd quickly get serious about it and hate losing. It would be fine to just do something as a hobby, but for me, a hobby I'm not good at isn't fun. So I always need to be in a state of improving as much as I can, and I've come to enjoy that process of rapid growth.

By the way, on the way to Aomori I stopped off in Hirosaki. I took a detour to go to the castle. It has samurai history, so I went thinking it might be interesting. Honestly, the castle was an anticlimax. However strong a samurai he may have been, even if he was unrivalled under heaven, even if he'd beaten Musashi, the castle was absolutely tiny. I don't mean to mock Japanese history and culture. I'm only mocking this one pathetic samurai. If his castle was that tiny, what must his willy have been like? Okay, okay, sorry, I'll stop.

I rode all day through beautiful forested mountains. The weather was good too, so it was fun. The way the distance shrank over the last 50 km was unreal, and every time I passed a road sign I got a huge sense of satisfaction. It was as though Aomori itself was coming towards me. My body felt light, and I was on such good form that I wondered why I'd struggled so much up to now. It was the final stretch, so even if I'd had to ride until morning, I think I could have. In the middle of the night I sat outside a convenience store on the highway, slowly drank an energy gel, and then started riding again. It was dark, and the forest was streaming past in front of me, so I was in a trance. I finally made it to Aomori! I feel fulfilled! I'm really proud, and it may be the proudest moment of my life so far.

By the time I arrived in Aomori it was already midnight. Passing through the deserted city, I looked for a convenience store as usual. I'd already achieved my goal, so I put no force into the pedals at all and drifted slowly through the streets of Aomori. It really sank in how far I'd come since that moment in Fukuoka when I couldn't even ride the bike. I bought orange juice, water, and a sweet bun at a convenience store and headed for the harbour. Near the harbour I found a long, narrow park called Shōtoku Park. I looked for a place to pitch my tent, but couldn't really find one. There may well have been a suitable spot, but staying inside a tent didn't feel right either. Tonight I wanted to feel Aomori, so I decided to sleep outside. In the park's pavilion, on the opposite side of the planet from the UK, I lay down and fell fast asleep.