I’m not having a very productive day for
studying. have only cleared up stuff that I need to
study, generated a list of exam dates, syllabi and exam formats. spent more time checking mail and playing warcraft.
I take a glance at the bottom right
corner of the laptop screen. says
rummage through my wardrobe to find suitable jogging gear. yellow
singlet with a large “INFANTRY” blazed across the back. red
short shorts. put them on, look in the mirror, and I see
a flattering physique. over-flattering. then I take pity on the image for the ghastly face it
carries. nevermind. nobody will look at a sweaty mass decked in yellow and red
anyway.
sip a short drink of water, pray that the slight running/blocked nose won’t
affect the jog. amble over to the kitchen, push the
sliding door aside.
“mummy, wo qu pao
bu”
mum makes a comment about how good I look in the jogging gear.
opens the door with her keys, just in
time to see grandma walk out of the lift in her trademark green tee shirt,
slips on my “no balance” (new balance) saf shoes,
leaves the door open for her.
“wo
qu pao bu”
waits for the lift, raring to go.
reaches the playground where I do my warmup. begins the routine warmup from
waist down, all the way to the toes. nice jogging
time, judging by the people who are passing by. a guy
decked in army grey singlet and black shorts. he takes
a cursory glance towards me. “infantry?” he must be
thinking. two malay friends
sitting at the void deck chatting, one with a crutch and an intricately
wrapped-up leg. I take a short glance at them, and look away quickly, not
wanting to impose any imperial-looking disposition.
sees the chin-up bar. been long since I’ve tried,
so I do a long eccentric one. takes six seconds to
reach the top, and another six to straighten. feels
good. so I tell myself, heck, another few. four more follow in quick succession. better
conserve some strength for the jog.
just in time. the watch reads “
reaches the petal garden, sees the guy in army grey and black shorts again. passes by a pony-tailed girl in tkgs-looking
shorts. takes a perhaps-too-long look at her, before
telling myself hey I’m supposed to be
jogging.
interesting to see some teenagers in dunman high uniform
playing basketball there too. three guys and two
girls. wonder if my sister knows them. passes by many benches along the way, and see different
people. greying old men relaxing on an evening walk,
oversized t-shirts and shorts-clad maids with impertinent kids playing at the
children’s playground. the avid foot reflexologist. pregnant woman
taking a healthy walk. and of course, the
health-conscious housewife who’s finished cooking dinner ambling along at a
comfortable pace.
runs past all, run to the end. a bus stop advert
comes to mind: the person in front is
there to be overtaken. or something along those
lines. then a song comes to mind. liang jing ru’s fen shou kuai le. synthesizes that into my jogging pace. in
the end it turns out to be almost a techno beat. repeats
it over and over.
reaches the link between the park and the main road. new
pavement linking the two places. one of housing
estate, and one of exclusive landed property. continues
the jog down to the main road. glances at the watch.
getting a bit breathless, but that’s the way running is supposed to be.
takes the link to the pedestrian sidewalk, keeping to the side to allow
passage for four indian workers on bikes. continues down the main road towards the mrt
station. notices a growing wet patch across my chest. perspiration’s good. means I’m
exercising hard. traffic lights go my way for the
entire road down. most of it, at least. until the penultimate one where I have to wait for the man
to turn green. no choice but to stop. bad move. the unfamiliar bright
feeling starts to overcome me… I see white. feel
groggy. and breathless. throat
runs dry. I bend over, asking myself why this is happening. must
let the blood rush to my head, can’t turn back now.
the lights turn green and I carry on despite the whiteness. and it amazingly disappears as I run on. the
breathlessness and congestion in the chest carries on though, as does the dry
throat and gag reflex.
have to stop again for the lights. and the white
comes back. must be the carbon monoxide I tell myself.
depriving my head of oxygen. all
that secondary school crap about carbon monoxide interfering with the blood to
form carboxyhaemoglobin starts filling my head. kind of a paradox huh. the effect
actually happens as I recount it. light turns green
again. and I cross.
this time the white doesn’t go off as fast as it did the previous time. I start
thinking my stamina’s really weakened now. it’s
suddenly I realize again that the white’s gone. and I’m
breathing normally. except for that increasing
tightening and tiredness in the calves. I make myself promise I won’t stop to
walk at all along the way back home, even if it means it’s a slow snail’s pace.
and before I know it again, I’m back at the petal garden. the dunmanians are no longer
there. two malay kids
stroking the ball around the street soccer court. I notice a couple jogging
quite some distance ahead of me. that “meant to be
overtaken” quote surfaces again and I tell myself I’ll overtake them gradually.
then the slight slope in front dismays me. but it’s nothing compared to the school slope, I say. and proceeds to conquer it in seconds. fast
approaching the couple. another pony-tailed girl, with
a strapping guy this time round. I pass, turning my head ever so slightly to glance
at the girl. nothing much. heh. bastard. jog also want to see girl, the singlish
refrain goes off the top of my head.
reaches another run-down playground that has a girl about my age lying down
doing crunches on the peripherals of it. hair again
tied in a ponytail. wearing shorts. nice
legs, I notice. then I see this indian
guy too well-dressed for a jog, walking not towards her, but somewhat in her
direction. I slow down, ready to take any action should he desire to do
anything funny. then tell myself off for the paranoia
and endeavours to see her face. too bad, light
conditions don’t allow me to.
seeing that familiar soft lighting near my void deck again finally. I’m
impressed with myself that I’ve managed to complete this run with that
whiteness and breathlessness. and hey, the malay guys, one with the plaster-cast leg, are still there.
nice chat eh.
jogs up to the sit-up bench and immediately sits ignoring all those advice
about not sitting down immediately after stopping a run. buries
head in arms waiting for the blood to rush. by now I’m
wet through with perspiration. then an elderly couple
stroll up and take a seat at another bench a short distance away. not wanting to disturb them, I walk a distance away to
commence the cooling down. too short to be
medically-advised. but the heck with it. I wanna get home, shower, drink lotsa water, and collapse on
the sofa.
I say a silent farewell to the elderly
couple and the malay guys,
and gets ready to take the lift. wet through with
perspiration. entirely.
someone’s going to be washing their hands damn hard later when they reach home
should they take the lift I was on. *weak smile*
dejectium out
(I’m
impressed if you’ve read this far. but hey, there’s so
much happening on a mundane jog!)
2152
hrs gmt +8