Why do the rules for baggage control differ so much between airports or even flights? One moment I'm breezing through security, and the next, I am asked to do a striptease.

Case in point: from Australia's Sunshine Coast to Sydney required me to remove all liquids, take out my laptop from the bag, take my belt off. Good thing I worn flip flops. All for a domestic flight!

However, when it came time for my international flight from Sydney to Dubai, I only had to empty my water bottle, laptop in the bag. And once I was in Dubai, full bottle of water in my hand, it was a smooth sailing experience: "All good, mate. Just walk through." But had my passport checked 3 times before I boarded!
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Anyone knows?

​It feels like there's always something vying for my attention. Particularly in the city, the constant hum of traffic and roadworks, the blare of advertisements, the intrusive presence of signposts telling me what to do, and the glare of neon signs make me feel overwhelmed by sensory input. Yet, despite all this external noise, I find myself drawn to screens, screens, and more screens during my moments of downtime. It's as if the gaps in between distractions need to be filled, and a screen is always at reach.

Occasionally, I look around and feel a sense of relief, thinking I'm not as bad as others. I don't cross the road while staring at my phone, walk with my wife and kids with my eyes glued to a screen, or pause in the middle of conversations to check an alert on my watch. However, the reality is that being marginally better than others doesn't cut it, and it's not even a valid standard to strive for.

Rather than filling every spare moment with digital distractions, I can choose to engage in activities that nourish my mind and spirit. I can simply sit in silence, or strike up a conversation with a total stranger.

This morning, a very simple interaction with a cashier at a bustling supermarket filled with people absorbed in their screens and ears covered by earphones made me feel like I changed his day, and mine, for the better.

Why don't I do that more often?

If someone performed a functional MRI of my brain during my morning run, they would have noticed my hippocampus lighting up like a Christmas tree. I ran in my old neighborhood, and the familiar sights triggered the recollection of many happy memories, which in turn spurred more positive internal thoughts. So, by the time I made it to the office this morning, I was all loved up!

In short sparks of what I can only describe as emotions and "mental sensations," I briefly relived trivial and important moments in my life. Like commuting to work in the early, dark, and cold mornings of winter and the hot days of summer. Taking the bus to daycare with Allegra in the carrier, and little Lorenzo tapping the Oyster card and waving to the bus driver. The runs with Lorenzo & Allegra, both in prams, and Lidia and I pushing hard up that infamous hill of the Kamai Parkrun. My early morning and late-night runs through the beautiful national park to the golf course, noticing whales jumping in the ocean.

What fascinated me is how all of these memories eventually melded together. As a sort of mental time travel, expressed in emotions, sensory details (I swear I could smell Allegra's baby powder at one stage), and a strange feeling of being connected to that time like it was today. And indeed, the same person. Even if it was over 5 years in the past.

Next week, I will travel to Italy to visit my dad, and I will spend some time in my hometown, which I left 21 years ago.
​I am looking forward to running through that memory lane, and I am curious to see what will come up.

I often find myself multitasking, juggling multiple tasks and thoughts. I find it hard to sharpen my focus on just one thing at a time and align full attention with full emotional engagement.

When I do, it's quite magical.
Speed work, when done with full attention, is a great example.

There's something magical about immersing myself fully, paying attention to each detail of my movements. My steps, the length of my stride, my cadence, the swinging of my arms, the steadiness of my head, my overall posture, the engagement of my muscles, the sound of my feet landing, my intense breathing... When I zero in and truly listen and witness with emotional connection, it feels as if time stands still or loses its tight grip altogether.
It reminds me of those slow-motion shots of cheetahs in the African savannah, chasing prey at full speed. Or the strongest and most elegant runners, leaning into a bend on the track. I'm not even remotely as graceful or powerful, but in my mind, I could well be, as everything is illuminated.

Of course, we can find this sense of focus and engagement in so many activities – playing music, basketball, racing cars, reading books, painting, and intellectual pursuits.
This state of presence is a wonderful feature, not a bug.

And it's nothing new. Mindfulness, meditation, visualisation, and awareness all strive for the same outcome: presence at its best.

As runners and as human beings, we often look up to others for motivation and guidance. But what if we could be our own source of inspiration? What if we could accept that the highest version of ourselves can be the beacon of hope, knowledge and inspiration that we so often seek outside ourselves?

When I hear myself "talk running" to others, my voice is full of encouragement and support. I cheer others on, offer advice, and uplift them in their moments of doubt. I tell them to keep going, to push through the pain and discomfort, and to believe in themselves. This comes from a place of belief and firsthand experience that ordinary people can achieve incredible things.

Similarly, when I "talk life," I am conscious of my words, speaking with compassion, understanding, and also with a strong sense of the incredible opportunities, beauty, happiness, purpose, and greatness we can all aspire to. It's a genuine sparkle of excitement, a remnant from the childhood sea of possibilities.

In private, do I talk to myself in the same way? Of course not, or at least not enough, like most of us.

Without falling into disillusion or just positive thinking for the sake of positive thinking, maybe it's worth spending more time with the highest version of ourselves. And occasionally ask him/her for advice: What would you do in this situation? The hardest part is probably accepting and seriously evaluating the answer, particularly when it challenges our current circumstances, personal tendencies, and inertia (this may be a hint it is the right advice). Give that advice a similar weight to that of others.

At some point, we can accept that we are strong, beautiful, worthy, and enough. And that's okay; it doesn't necessarily have to be narcissistic or egotistic. 
We can write and live our own mantra or quote for ourselves.