It may seem frivolous to apply Nietzsche to castellers, but it seems phenomenally apt this morning that “that which does not kill me makes me stronger”.

Our 4de8 yesterday evening fell, and fell hard, just after the dosos were in place and the rest of the canalla were still ascending.  Lots of bruises, pulled muscles, cricked necks and the odd black eye around in the aftermath (nobody’s too badly hurt thankfully), but also a steely determination that the next time we will make it and the reliving of the euphoria of success we felt on July 30th will be even sweeter for yesterday’s failure.  We didn’t even have the bittersweet carregat for consolation, and that just won’t do for the Jove.

The disappointment and disbelief directly afterwards were the worse for the absolute knowledge and confidence that the second carro gros was ours for the taking.  It was there in the fact that we’d already done one four weeks earlier with absolute authority, in the impressive practice sessions and the memory in our muscles of exactly what to do and when, how much the effort would be, how much it was going to hurt.  That too will fuel the comeback. All the stronger.  Sempre Jove.

(5k sweaty morning run to the Dolce security hut and back.)

5km, 26:12.

646km remaining.

(Nearly 1000 years of Greco-Roman civilization ends as Alexandria is recaptured by the Muslim Arabs; Jeddah is founded on the Red Sea; centralized government established in Japan)


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