Saturday, September 1

A trilogy of sorts

I'm in Singapore for a week and I ran twice already, and probably I will run again tomorrow (wait, today). My last run was probably one of the most horrible runs I've had in at least a year. You see, it was the run of three daemons. Because I can definitely tackle the run of one daemon, and the run of two daemons, but I have yet to tackle the run of three daemons.

In the order of bad-assness, my three daemons are heat, gluttony, and thoughts. I decided to run at 10am on Wednesday morning. Let me put it this way: 10am on Thursday morning in Singapore is not the same as 10am Thursday morning in Adelaide. It's damn hot and humid, that's what it is. My legs were swollen, and I was sweating like a pig. That's when I decided to take off my shirt - "at least get a tan", I thought. I was now much cooler but also about 200% more self conscious, as I was running through the damn CBD. So I alternated between taking off my shirt, running a bit, and then putting it back on. And I ran and I stopped and i ran some more again. And then I stopped again. And ran. And stopped. And ran. Because of all this on-off business, my hair started to stick to my face and get into my (now) dry mouth. There's nothing like the taste of hair on a dry-mouth day.

Now you see, the reason why I was running at 10am instead of 7am was because at 7am I had had a very nice and very very big breakfast, and had then spent the next 3 hours digesting it off and doing some work. But the little monster was not done being digested and kept creeping up (literally) on me, threatening to have me puke in the middle of the CBD on very nicely dressed passers-by. So in between taking off my shirt (and putting it back on), I would also stop to prevent myself from puking my breakfast. It would not have been a good sight, plus, me puking my breakfast would have had said breakfast stick to the hair that was in my mouth, and thus have it stick with me for the rest of the run. Literally. Thus I had to stop SOME MORE.

But the most badass daemon were my thoughts. Nasty nasty things are happening and thoughts concerning them stop me dead in my tracks. Now don't get me wrong, I could have handled this little baby just nice if it were by itself, but with the other two, it was practically impossible. Thoughts aplenty and my (not positive*) inner voice bringing up images related to them ... For some, I would use the anger to propel me, but for others I would just stop suddenly and try (and fail) to blink them away. Thoughts, you ask. Like my paternal grandmother dying alone after being ignored by my father for at least five years. Or seeing my friends suffer in teary silence and realize that there's nothing, and I mean NOTHING, that I can do to make it go away. And this feeling of helplessness started the big momma voice in my head (not positive*), who started rattling on all the things i did wrong (imaginary or for real) since i was 6 years on (it has a very good memory). So in between taking off my shirt (and putting it back on), and trying not to puke my breakfast, I would also stop to get it to shut up. Which it did ... the next fucking day.

And before you ask, I'm running again tomorrow.



RME said...

Epic! Btw: what is CDB? Enjoy today's run.

claudia said...

I think .. Central Business District ?