Her t-shirt and track pants were completely soaked in sweat. Every part of her body was crying in pain. Her legs seemed to her to have become two pillars of lead. Each step that she took was marked with agony. She was no longer running. Not even jogging. It was just an excruciating walk - one step at a time.
It was not the physical pain that she was scared of. As several runners had told her in her practice runs, it was the mind which would play havoc. She realized that stark truth yet found it terribly hard to resist succumbing to it.
'They told me I couldn't complete the run. 21 kilometres. What was I thinking? I have not even done a 2k run before. How did I think it could be possible for me? My whole body is aching. I can't take another step. It's okay if I stop now. At least, I tried. I can't do it anymore. It would be so cool just to stop here and sit down and never get up again.'
She stopped in her tracks. Around her, she saw a couple of runners - some ahead of her, some behind - everyone battling their own demons in the last dangerous stretch of the half marathon.
Somehow, the sight of these runners gave her a strange feeling of strength and camaraderie. Each one ran for a different reason - fitness, health, passion, adventure, love. She had embarked on her maiden half marathon for a completely different reason - to reclaim her life.
'What? Why do you need to run? You are not fat.' 'Are you going to wake up so early to run outside? Who will take care of the house when you are gone?' 'Are you going to run in that dress? Can't you go walking like other ladies?' 'What will you get by running?'
She had no answers. All she knew was that she needed one chance to do something for herself, without thinking about her husband, her children or her in laws. One thing that she could call her own. Her friend had pushed her to join in a run one fine Sunday morning. After the run, she was exhilarated by the feeling of freedom - freedom from responsibilities, from expectations, from priorities, from deadlines and from the endless monologue in her own head.
She had practised hard for three months and now, she realized she couldn't give up. 'This is for me.' It had been ages since she had spoken those words, without a tinge of guilt, even to herself. She summoned the last ounce of strength and will that remained in her and took one more step towards the finish line.
Day 21 of Blogathon 2017
It was not the physical pain that she was scared of. As several runners had told her in her practice runs, it was the mind which would play havoc. She realized that stark truth yet found it terribly hard to resist succumbing to it.
'They told me I couldn't complete the run. 21 kilometres. What was I thinking? I have not even done a 2k run before. How did I think it could be possible for me? My whole body is aching. I can't take another step. It's okay if I stop now. At least, I tried. I can't do it anymore. It would be so cool just to stop here and sit down and never get up again.'
She stopped in her tracks. Around her, she saw a couple of runners - some ahead of her, some behind - everyone battling their own demons in the last dangerous stretch of the half marathon.
Somehow, the sight of these runners gave her a strange feeling of strength and camaraderie. Each one ran for a different reason - fitness, health, passion, adventure, love. She had embarked on her maiden half marathon for a completely different reason - to reclaim her life.
'What? Why do you need to run? You are not fat.' 'Are you going to wake up so early to run outside? Who will take care of the house when you are gone?' 'Are you going to run in that dress? Can't you go walking like other ladies?' 'What will you get by running?'
She had no answers. All she knew was that she needed one chance to do something for herself, without thinking about her husband, her children or her in laws. One thing that she could call her own. Her friend had pushed her to join in a run one fine Sunday morning. After the run, she was exhilarated by the feeling of freedom - freedom from responsibilities, from expectations, from priorities, from deadlines and from the endless monologue in her own head.
She had practised hard for three months and now, she realized she couldn't give up. 'This is for me.' It had been ages since she had spoken those words, without a tinge of guilt, even to herself. She summoned the last ounce of strength and will that remained in her and took one more step towards the finish line.
Day 21 of Blogathon 2017
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