run

every little thing

So who's to worry
If our hearts get torn
When that hurt gets thrown
Don't you know this life goes on
And won't you kiss me
On that midnight street
Sweep me off my feet
Singing ain't this life so sweet

i woke up yesterday night to puke my guts out. it was a mind-blowing minute, but i hope i'm never gonna do that again.

i was having this kick-ass headache on sunday (it really was kicking my ass), and i laid on bed wishing for nothing but the headache to be over. It disappeared in the morning.

What do u think of when u are running the last lap?
every breath is a desperate grasp for oxygen, every running step pounds into the body, and the head screams for you to go/stop.

i think of the calm and satisfaction that comes after the lap is done and put away. and i wash that thought over and over till i cover the distance.
meanwhile fear limits; it tells you that your body is going to crumble any moment.

when i was little i didnt have that kind of fear; it was a battle between physical limits and the power of youthful pride.

well i was deliberating whether to go for the 2.4 again, when the rain decided for me.

10:58

i ran again today, and it took my breath. i kept looking down at the markings on the ground that told me how far i have run, and i'd work out in my head how far i have left.

i remembered how i ran in sch and bmt, where i wasn't clear of how far i had ran, and i would just look ahead. either that or i'd stare at the ground, watching my feet cycle like clockwork.
there was the bridge in pandan reservoir to tell me midpoint, and in bmt there was only the finishing line when it came into visibility. and there always have been my feet and the ground to keep me going. i ran much faster then, and i think i ran lighter.