Running strawberries


Burning red and semi-sweet like almost blood.

Running is intense and I miss it.

That day at Sentosa, we saw quite a handful of runners. I’m reminded of the torture and the panting with the sweating and lactic acid burning up all the muscles. When we first saw them, they occured to me as a bunch of crazy topless people choosing to run at Sentosa. It didn’t make sense because they paid for entrance into this sunny island not for a fabulous time but hours of intense hardcore training. But later it did – we had our days of torture too. Track camp and june/dec hols were crazy with training. Those days at MacRitchie and East Coast were twice as bad. Yet we enjoyed this torment. Shujing asked me why track and for a moment I couldn’t answer. I never dwelled too deep into why. But I guess it’s the kind of torture we enjoy. It’s something like people enjoying being tortured with horror movies.

It was a struggle this year. Aside from many other things, the running passion just isn’t burning or bright like strawberries anymore. Questions raised about if I should still continue, if I still wanted to join a club or I should just quit entirely and do something else. That endorphin feel is just so different with running. It’s not just about the feel of course. It’s about the lean bod and flat tummy which anyway makes you feel awesomely good. (: It sucks to be on the bench watching others get fitter while you grow fatter around the middle. 

I want to run again; with trackers.

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