Let me give you an analogy.

Sometimes, in my crazier moments, I consider resitting the Leaving Cert.

I have a lingering curiosity as to whether, almost quarter of a century on, I would do better or worse.

The conditions would be quite different.

I’d have the benefit of twenty-three years of real-life experience and knowledge acquisition and assimilation.

I’d approach with a greater sense of self-confidence and self-worth.

I would not have the benefit of two years of intensive and focused study and revision.

I would, however, have better, easier ways of learning and remembering crucial facts.

There would be a less riding on the results. I’d be less nervous. I probably wouldn’t be as motivated.

Whether or not I’d do better or worse remains in the balance. 

But that’s exactly why I’d want to embark on such a venture.

If I did do better in those exams now than I did in 1997, I would, in fact, be better at those exams now than I was in 1997.

If I did worse, it would be down to the effort I put into revision (the training, let’s call it); the way in which I approached the exams (let’s, for arguments sake, call that my motivation, or, dare I say it, my mindset); other factors specific to that particular day (the conditions); or bad luck with the questions asked (the opposition).

Perhaps you can start to see where I’m going with this?

Now, not only has my knowledge (hopefully) improved, but so has technology. All the knowledge needed to complete a good leaving certificate exam is available at my fingertips. Typing a few key words into a smarter-than-me phone will give me the information I need to answer questions on everything from algebra to zygotes. Yes, I still need to know what the question is asking, to own and know how to use the phone, and to take from it the information I need to maximise the marks awarded.

I’d still need to put the work in.

If technological assistance was suddenly allowed, however, not only would it not be the same race as the original Leaving Certificate.

It wouldn’t even be the same sport.

...

I wouldn’t really resit the Leaving Cert.

Not ever.

But every year since 2003, the last time that I set a steeplechase PB, I’ve been resitting that particular athletics exam; trying to see if I can replicate or improve on the result or, since getting older, just how close I can get.

The conditions are not the same every year. But the sport is.

Or at least it was.

I’ve become a wiser, smarter racer and a better judge of pace. I train smarter. I’d like to think that I’m better at the technical aspects of the event.

I even, occasionally, do some cramming (some call it altitude training).

But I’m older. Much older. I can’t bang out 400m sessions like I used to. I don’t train as hard as I once did. Some days I’m not even all that motivated.

But I’m still curious. Still curious how close I can get to that ancient PB.

When I come close, as I did in 2011, I appreciate how very different training can lead to similar results in the same sport.

When I don’t, I receive a timely reminder that I should have better appreciated my best results (along with my Leaving Cert grades) when they happened.

Better or worse, I have fun comparing where I am now to where I was then.

Soon I won’t even have that.

But when I sit my (probable) final steeplechase test next summer, I won’t be doing it with a smarter-than-me phone in my hand, or a faster-than-me pair of spikes on my feet.

I’m not interested in a different exam.

I’m only interested in the old one.

And not only will the spikes be similar to the ones I wore when I last broke 11 minutes, but, God and some superglue willing, they’ll literally be the same pair!