In Continuum.

Alright, I ran out of ideas for this entry about myself jogging for the first time since I passed out from the army. Since the title "Run, Forrest, Run" has already been used for a March 2007 entry, I settled with this convenient entry title that really doesn't mean anything at all. The idea of of me picking myself up from the front of the computer and putting on my running gear is probably the strangest sight, second only to the one with me running around my neighborhood in nothing but a pair of underwear and a crown made from banana leaves and singing Gwen Stefani's Hollerback Girl at the same time. Seriously, I never thought of myself as the kind of person who would spare an hour of my life, jogging around my neighborhood because I just felt like doing it all of a sudden. Maybe it was because of that article I read in the magazine just the other day, about how a person who works out for an hour a day and drinks two glasses of wine lives longer on average than someone who does either one of those activities, or neither. Numbers and statistics have this strange power on me, but even that wasn't the main reason why I decided to make a fool out of myself, in front of myself. 

The Singapore Arms Forces, or the SAF, is a paranoid governmental organization, and rightfully so. The moment they release the soldiers back out into the society, they become paranoid that they'd become fat and lazy civilians all over again, back to our old ways before we got into the army. They are afraid that in times of need, these passed out soldiers may have become too fat to pick up a M-16 rifle, or even themselves off from their mattresses. So it is a rule in the army that everybody has to take the physical fitness test, and pass it, once every year if you are fit enough to do so. It is not stated when you should take the test, but you just have t take it before your birthday strikes. My birthday is a little more than four months away, and it is about time I start to train up on my stamina all over again, bringing back the good old days when I used to scoff at the idea of running six kilometers around the camp. Six kilometers to me was nothing, and eight involved a little more effort but failed to kill me that other time at East Coast Park. After all, I am the same person that completed 21 kilometers, so what's a round around the neighborhood in the evening? That optimism didn't last very long, and it certainly did not help in my stamina at all.

A lot can happen in the span of a year, and a lot did happen to me right after I passed out from the army. Festive seasons force you to gorge yourself silly, since every one of them gives you an excuse to eat like there isn't going to be a tomorrow. Between this Wednesday evening and the day I passed out on the 9th of December 2006, there has been two Chinese New Years, two Christmases, one Valentine's Day, numerous parties and barbeque, countless meetings with friends over heavy lunches and dinners, not to mention the truckload of junk food involved and the two trips I took to Taiwan and that recent one to Krabi. The amount of food that I have consumed over the past year along could have fed a village in Sudan for a decade, and all of those were accomplished without the complimentary exercising. It's not like I felt guilty about it, but the metabolism of my body naturally rejected the need to exercise at all. It's in the genes, probably from my mother, to not gain weight very easily despite eating like an elephant for the whole year round. No excess fats to tell me to go out for a jog, or loose skin underneath my arms to tell me that I have gathered fats to an unhealthy level. So when this year came around and I knew that I had to do something about the physical fitness test, I became someone else entirely.

I started to plan my running routes, and I dug out the pair of shoes from the storeroom and my old running gear from the army. The armor singlet still smelled as if it was just being washed yesterday, and my shorts still fit perfectly well around my waist, which goes to show just how little I have changed physically over the past year or so. Anyway, the bottom of the right shoe was coming off, but that did not stop me from wearing it by the front door as I checked the time on the clock. Half an hour more till the time which I had to meet MJ at the stadium, I should probably give myself a little more time for this run - the first run in a very long time. I stretched myself in front of the television while trying to remember the warm-up steps that we went through like a ritual before all exercises every morning. I forgot half of those, but couldn't care less about it anyway. I was eager to get out of the house and see how much of my old jogging-crazy self was left in me. So I stretched some more in the elevator, knowing full well that the security guards could see a strange man standing on one leg in the lift through the camera. The lights on the penal counted down to one, I twisted my neck from left to right and readied myself for the doors to slide open. Five, four, three, two, and one. The doors opened with the sound of metal scraping against the line of artificial fur along the walls, and I was off into the night without giving myself another three seconds to consider a regret for my actions.

It was a windy night, and running against the wind wasn't encouraging at all. By the time I reached the front gates of my estate, my ankles and knees were already aching and I was already panting like a dog - imagine that. The distance was only about a hundred meters or less, and I was already feeling weak like a seventy-year-old man dying from a chronic disease. But I kept asking myself when was the last time I had a jog for longer than ten seconds, and I felt relieved when I realized that I couldn't find the answer to my own question. It has been a long time indeed, and nobody is able to maintain a certain level of fitness over a long period of time without repeated exercise I'm sure. It has been more than a year, and I should have been proud of myself to have started the run in the first place. Jogging along the familiar road in the middle of the night was indeed an unique experience, though I had issues with breathing in the carbon monoxide emitted by the passing cars and buses. Still, the stadium was at the end of the road, and it's not like I had a lot of time to spare.

I used to like running a lot in camp, though I was never very good at it. Compared to all the other possible activities the superiors were able to assign us, I'd rather go for a jog than anything else. Perhaps it was the mindless routine involved in running, or the way you are able to clear your mind of thoughts by putting one foot in front of the other. Basically, it wasn't a difficult task and I did enjoy the sensation of the morning air hitting my face at the speed that I was running. I was never the person at the front of the pack, but at least I've always made an effort to remain at the first third of the running detail. Even the 21 kilometer run in September of 2006 excited me to no end, even though I knew that I was going to be running for only a little more than half of that distance in total. I still love to run, I cannot tell you why. Perhaps it is the kind of satisfaction you get by the time you reach the very end, or the monotonous brainwork involved while running. To me, just maybe, it is the idea of both running away and running towards something that is so - well, liberating.

I met MJ at the stadium, already sweating like a stuck pig. So the both of us made an U-turn, ran back towards my house and up Boundary Road towards Kean's house in the estate just behind mine, while I tried desperately not to get lost at the very same time. By the time we reached the bus stop closest to my house, the stitches and the stomachaches already started to kick in like a bitch who wouldn't stop nagging. I cursed at myself as MJ ran ahead to the next bus stop to wait for me, then continued to run and forced myself not to let MJ run beyond my sight. I soldiered on like I used to back in camp, a hand pinched on my stomach to distract the pain inside, rolling about like an iron ball with spikes trapped inside my body. It was agonizing, but it sure didn't stop us from getting to Kean's house at the very end, safely and without losing our way. We hung out around the park for a little while, and saw MJ unleash the monster inside of him by doing a few pull-ups which I was never too good at either. I admit, that I am really not the kind of person to be out there running long distances, doing fifteen pull-ups at one go and working out in the gym. I've never been a very strong person, but I feel comfortable in my own skin. However, it was still a great experience to be out running all over again, like the good old days in the army when everything was still so simple and straightforward. Oh, I do miss that life so very much.

So, the verdict - I am back to square one all over again. OK, that was being a little pessimistic, I probably didn't do so bad at all. I outran my own expectations actually, and I only started slowing down after I completed the 2.4 kilometer distance, the numerous traffic lights aside. I did better than I thought, though the person that I was in the past would have laughed at how weak I am right now. But give me a break man, it has been a long time. I do look forward to more evening jogs to come, and to explore more routes that I have yet to take or imagine myself taking. It'd be great to run to places that I have never been to, but most of all to run away from things that I'd very much like to leave behind, even if it is only going to be a figurative thought in my mind.