I had a disappointing day at work. It is a continuation of something that happened earlier, something that was outside my control and something I feel like a victim of. Anyway, without going into details, I can say that I was left feeling very annoyed with the world and had formed the opinion that life sucked. I felt the whole day was gonna end pretty miserably.
But then I decided not to let that happen. After all I have a blog to write, damn it! I wanted to make the day special somehow. And I came up with a pretty random goal - run 10km today. I am surrounded by runners at office and outside who give fancy numbers of miles they have covered. In all such conversations I usually have nothing to contribute. So it's been a dream for me to one day stand up proudly and say "Yes, I've ran 10km" (the choice of number 10 is quite random also... I simply think it would be way too boring to run any more than that). But there was no reason why that day should be today.
Yes, running 10km would make the day very special. 10km may not be much for usual runners, marathoners etc. but for me it would be some feat because I suck at running. When I say "suck" here, I mean really, really SUCK. My lack of interest in running or any physical activity other than yoga, swimming and dance is unbelievable.
There is a story that still runs in my family, much to the entertainment of my relatives. It goes that one day I got back home from my kindergarten and told my parents that I came third in a running race. Upon further enquiry they realized that there were only 3 kids in that particular race, so by coming third I had actually successfully come last. Such has always been my ability to run.
However, recently I did pick up running a bit but my average has been 3km which was already a big deal for me. The maximum I had ever ran in my life was 7.2km just once, which might have been a complete fluke. So setting a goal of running 10km today was nothing short of complete absurdity, especially since the last time I did any form of running was more than a month ago.
But the fact remains that I set the goal and and I had to try and achieve it. But it was harder than I imagined. Exactly after 2.4km on the treadmill, I wanted to give up and go and eat chicken rice. But I persisted. I had to prove to myself that it's possible. It was a matter of life and death. OK, not really but it was a matter of my dignity and feeling of self-worth. I refused to be bogged down by stuff that happen at work and I had to tell myself that there are other things to feel good about.
So I ran and I ran and I ran. At last the treadmill screen read - '10.2' kms.
Today is the day I (very proudly) say "Yes, I've ran 10 km." Mission Accomplished. I don't think I ever want to run again in my life.
930 more to go.