It was January 1st. The beach bar across the street was still pumping music and with the squint of one eye I hit my phone: 6:13 am. The bars in my Spanish coastal town close at 6am so any minute the soundtrack of the night would finally give way to the standard metronomic crash of waves. I rolled over in annoyance. My stomach churned. My skin prickled. I was full of regret. I wanted to start the new year off running, literally. Or riding or swimming. In my physical condition,