Never Ever Stop

The Most Wonderful Thing in the World

Run - v. to go quickly by moving the legs more rapidly than at a walk and in such a manner that for an instant in each step all or both feet are off the ground

This definition is completely inadequate. Running is so much more than just moving your legs. Running involves the heart and the mind, the sweat pouring down your brow and the blisters on your toes, the way your heart beats faster before a race, the mental determination you plant in your brain to wake up while it is still dark, pull on your shoes, and get on the road. Running involves the aching in your legs and the burning in your muscles and how that pushes you forward just a little bit more; how the routes you run become ingrained in your memory so that your body automatically curves when there is a corner, ducks when there is a tree, sidesteps when there is a crack on the pavement, because you know all these things so well, just like the lines on the palm of your hand. Running involves your face burning under the scorching Sun when the weather is hot, and being drenched with rain, droplets flying into your eyes and face, because when you set out the weather was great but look, suddenly it's pouring, but you can't stop, because you already planned how far and long you were going to run that day...

Running is a form of art. The runner becomes the artist; and her movement the work of art. Perhaps it is only in this sense that I am able to create beauty; become a machine with a single-minded purpose. How do I define that feeling, the complete contentment when my legs are moving, my hair is blowing and the wind is cool on my neck, and I can see the slow, steady rise of the Sun? It is something that must be experienced before it is understood. I have said so many times and I say it again: Running is spiritual. I am connecting with my body in ways I cannot even begin to comprehend. I have come to understand myself better, what my body wants and differentiate that from what it really needs. I have come to understand the importance of fuel (less food = worse runs!), and how I wake up at 3 a.m. to eat just so I can have a satisfactory run.

My favourite part of running is being alone. I agree there is a certain sense of togetherness when running in a group: the beauty of sharing this wonderful, amazing ability to run and let go and be free with other people. But for me, the ultimate perfection of running is achieved only when I am with no other company but myself, and God. This is why sometimes I am so caught up in my own little running bubble that I forget to greet other runners, or lift a hand to wave. Perhaps a semi-conscious half-smile may suffice? I have noticed a tendency that I have while running: Observe other runners and weigh whether or not they are 'real' runners. Criteria taken into account: Running gear, style of arm movements, the way their feet hit the ground, and their pace. I know this is rather cruel and mean of me but it just seems to be automatic. A slight nod to acknowledge that the other runner has passed the test. Perhaps I myself am being subjected to the same scrutiny, who knows?

I think only runners understand the mixture of love for running and yet that sense of dread and 'what ifs' that sometimes lurk beneath the surface. And often there are days when you wake up and just think "Ugh" but there is this underlying force that somehow pushes you out of bed, just like always, to run, and run, and run. For me, missing a run is a huge deal. The guilt starts, and then the disappointment, and then I start banging things around the house and cursing at anything that has the bad luck to cross my path. And there are days when I am running and everything just seems to go wrong: Not fast enough, not long enough, stupid rain, stupid haze, stupid motorcycle, stupid wind, stupid people blocking the road, stupid everything! But then come those sweet, rare days where everything is absolutely perfect. It is for days like these that I endure all the aches and pains of running, and continue to do so still.

I absolutely hate running on the treadmill. I find it so monotonous, the static view and the gaze staring fixedly ahead. And beside me on either sides, a whole row of other people doing the same thing; like robots. And always the black belt, moving, moving. And the constant checking to see how far I have run. It defeats the freedom I seek while running. It becomes a chore.

I do not know why I am writing this post at this exact moment. I normally write about running only after I have completed a nice run, not necessarily long, or even fast, but one where I felt completely comfortable and happy with myself, not disappointed that I did not run a certain distance, or angry because of some stupid car who honked at me for no apparent reason (a lot of gatal fellows around). I mean, I did not even run this morning because one look out the window told me I would do more damage than good to my body: The haze is obliterating everything from sight and it is absolutely frustrating and completely unfair. But I felt the sudden need to share with you this thing in my life that I discovered 5 years ago and have loved ever since.

Thank you, Allah, for giving me legs so I can run. I pray that I will never, ever stop.

Afterthought: You know when you have five pairs of Nike Frees that you definitely have an obsession with running. Or perhaps with Nike. But hey! I bought a pair of Reeboks the other day. Learning how to expand my horizons! :P