A 45 minute commute. Home at last. The socks have to be discarded - I can't wear the same pair for over 8 hours. I postpone some. I stall some more. Finally when it looks like the internet can't distract me anymore, I fill the bottle up. Pick up keys, the all important phone, and slam the door behind me. The weather's never the same 2 days in a row, which means I have too many layers or too few. Suck it up and avoid dog poop and sprinklers on the way to the small room.
Curse, turn around and come back for the bottle still sitting by the faucet. Repeat journey. Soon I'm off. A little youtube-on-the-phone to warm up, before I switch to Pandora. Annoying Euro techno isn't nearly loud enough, my bones seem to creak louder than the rehashed tunes. The volume slider's pushed up a few notches and in a surreal moment I see the bottle and the keys come to life as my feet pound the rubbery surface.
In no time, I'm hearing from muscles like relatives lost in the folds in time. Curious, angry, tired and jaded. I need motivation, I crank the slider up. Tinnitus is only a symptom. Don't pay attention to numbers, a mile isn't far enough. If I slow down and pause for a second I can run two more. I dare my right hand to hit the arrow, and my arm seems to recoil in shame.
Flat feet, arches not rebounding, ankles complaining. I tell myself, running is natural. A little water, I grin and keep going. Those perfect bodies on TV can't be all CGI and scapels, they've been puffing and panting too.
Jogger's knee, tennis elbow, broken backbone. It's only pain. Drink some water. Keep going.
All that fat, all the indulgence over the first quarter of my life. Think of all things spiteful, all memories hateful. High school bullies, asshole mountain bikers, tight muscular bodies, lost chances, the reflection in the mirror, strategic poses in pictures, shortcomings of the body and the mind. It's the last quarter mile now. Come on, come on, come on, I scream, thankful that no one else uses this god forsaken equipment. My brand of self-motivation comes with a fistful of hatred. Drink. Some. Water.
The numbers line up and the buttons are hit. The world slows down and gets a lot quieter. Warm down, and gloat at the flashing digits.
Same time tomorrow.
Monday, June 15, 2009
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10 comments:
Ok, what shoes do you wear? I'm not sure I like my running shoes and I need recommendations. :|
I have this pair from Nike. They're not specialized running shoes but they do nicely. I'm planning to hit up Boulder Running Company. They videotape you running, put you through some fancy analysis and personalize your running shoes. That's a lot of scotch money though.
Yes, yes that must be done otherwise you run the risk of injuring yourself. I thought you perhaps went through the whole routine and then got on the track.
I'm too miserly to be sensible!
I HATE the mention of Pandora, it's restricted!
I wish I had your tenacity, your strength. It's brilliant.
Romba scotch money and all you have though :P
Hah, a random snippet of Tamil on the interwebz makes my day.
I don't believe running is natural. It's an extreme situation for the body. We weren't mean to do it long-distance; not all of us, at least. (Think of this the same time tomorrow.)
Do you have specific fitness goals? They could be achieved through other forms of exercise. But then you know a star athlete...
Speaking of which, I'm with you on the restrictedness. And have you seen Bing.com for India? No searching for sex-related terms, whatsoever. Bledy nansense; the web is supposed to be region-free.
Whoa. You know a star athlete. You know a star athlete?
Fuck physical exertion.
@ Narco : Not enough, never quite enough :(
@ AMDP : In your face!
@ Perakath : I heard that running long marathos actually reduces the lifespan since it's such a big bloody strain. But 45 mins of cardio a day can't hurt. I'm just trying to up my fitness and stamina.
@ Rassles : Yeah, my sentiments too for most part of the run.
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