It‘s been worth every minute

The EHF Champions league is a marathon.

Every sinew straining. Mentally drained. Injuries taking their toll.

Cold aeroplanes, slow boats, warm trains.

Early mornings, delayed flights.

Bad hotels, small beds, tiny quilts, uncomfortable mattresses, wrong pillows.

Strange food, bad roads, old cars.

Lost luggage, language barriers, forgotten toothbrush.

Multiple planes, long stopovers, bad coffee, fast food, toilet queues, boring books.

Bad games, tough losses, strange decisions, long journeys home.

Quiet bus, tired body, cold feet from short bed, neck sore from wrong pillow, back broken from soft mattress.

The end is in sight. The arc of the LANXESS arena is like the rainbow that is chased. The pot of gold waiting. The long hours of drudgery, tactic and travel rewarded.

Media calls, google hangouts, interviews, tough matches, every muscle stretched to breaking point.

The FINAL4 is the sprint.

But there is another side.

Great friends, good company, funny moments, stories to tell the grandkids.

Friendships that last a lifetime, gourmet dinners, cultural barriers overcome, wonderful welcomes, hugs, high fives, the sense of belonging.

More highs than lows, more fun than boredom. Camaraderie, team, emotion, elation, handball.

I don‘t know about the players, but I have hit the wall.

It‘s been worth every minute.