I must insist that any attempt to re-create or re-act is strictly discommended!

Silence, emptiness, nothing. My breath is quick, heavy and my heart is pounding like an ox in my throat and ears. Exploding.

How has it come this far? What happened this time?

Was it a challenge or a goal? Or –just- nothing, or, because I can?

I do not even like it; running, hate it; walking, it is no challenge, am not interested.

But I am doing IT, right now.

The requested “challenge” came up whether I wanted to join in for the quarter marathon of Rotterdam next year.

This is not a thing or achievement that is meeting  any of my objectives or goals, key focus areas in life by far. So why should I?

Preparing, training, improving, grinding, definitely no fun and no personal ambition in this field.

But, 6.55 miles, is doable. –sigh-

As an idiot I start with the extra mile, no practice, no training nor experience, besides that; really I hate running.

The circumstances are not perfect, rather bad. Very bad. A whining knee, a blister and no support or backup at all.

Suddenly, after 2 miles a screaming sharp pain is penetrating my right calf muscle!

Aaaauw! Aaaarrghhhhh. –ouch-

This is it, the end, is running through my head. So soon. I am forced to stop.

But this is not how it supposed to be. I must persist. Go on, Grind. But the road ahead is tremendously long, still.

I am hurt, mentally disappointed. I hobble further.

Without any technique and heavy pain my body moves on persistence.

A little later the calf muscle is far away, somewhere. Not that the pain is gone, but my brain learns to deal with it.

And not that my legs are graciously moving over the concrete like a panther, far from that.     

This act of foolishness must be beyond laws, physics and science, rather insanity.    

“Brave”, is a woman encouraging me in opposite direction, honestly.

The strong taste of my breakfast –not light of course- is coming up, my breathing is still heavy, but it seems like the pounding in my throat has vanished.

Air is pushed in my lungs.

The sun is shining from the right and a warm blanked is covering my face. Father? A dog, a pony, a church, all as in a glance.

Then, pain in my right groin, not massively, nevertheless my brain makes me aware.

My sensitive awareness is cautious, waiting for the final blow, the dying: the strike into my chest or heart, fading out, turning black. But, nothing.

Where am I? Almost half way. My brain is chunking, from milestone; mark to milestone, first the houses in the distance. Only, first reaching the turning point, then I am halfway. After that it is, only, turning home. Home.

Come on….. When I will cross the final I have done it eventually. Then I can thick this box and reach further. Focus, keep on. Believe.

Strangely, no doubt that I am not going to make it. Is it easy; No. Am I going to make it: Yes. I gather strength from the little things in the moment.

I have a positive mental attitude, I like to inspire people. Show it! Smile and keep your head high.

My brain is restless, not in a flow, not in trance and my technique sucks. I am toiling, slogging.

Why?

The turning point is reached safely.

My feet are burning.

My legs are in a certain cadence, I could accelerate, slightly, but I feel a kind of reservation, afraid to blow up.

I am searching for my stopwatch to see how I am doing, to dwell energy, to keep going. Darn, it did not turn on and my vision is blank.

Just keep going, then, visioning the end, the feeling, the success.

My surroundings, awareness; rays of sun, from the left, the cafe, a ladies smile.

I am going to make it.

Finally after 60 minutes I reach the beginning, I feel like a wreckage, hurting, pain, sweet, salvation.

Next time, Rotterdam!