Lowest of lows, highest of highs

Today was everything I like about running, pushing back the boundaries and reaching new heights. For today was the day I make my debut at the half-marathon distance in the Penang Bridge Run. To say I have been eagerly awaiting this day is an understatement. I have been training hard in anticipation of tackling such a daunting distance, a distance I have never come close to running. Despite some hiccups in training in the build up, most notably with the haze, I was raring to go.

After returning from my walk the night before at only around 11pm, I was only able to snatch around 4 hours of sleep. But somehow, I woke up not feeling tired at all, must be the adrenalin doing its job.

Since the bridge run is a major event, quite a few roads have been sealed off to motorised vehicles. From a point of view as a runner actually running in the race, it is brilliant, but the same cannot be said for me as someone trying to go to the registration point. It was hell in fact, thoroughly confusing. To add insult to injury, it took a good 20 minute run to get there. My adrenalin was still flowing so I barely felt it.

After arriving at the registration point, the gates of hell USM, I was greeted by a huge crowd. They were the same as me, slightly late and trying to register. To add insult to injury, the gate was open only a crack to allow the runners to trickle in. I had godawesomesofastyoucantseeme Aikido evasion technique to go through, that and some good old fashioned shoving.

That was not the end of the hurdles blocking our way, for after registering, we participants in the men's half-marathon were held up on the USM field. We were only allowed to walk to the starting line, some 10 minutes away, 5 minutes before the starting gun was fired. Needless to say, the race has already begun when I finally made it to the starting line.

I frantically started running, eager to make up lost ground. Ok scratch that, I was frantic, but I started with a relatively sedate pace. My school coach advised me to start conservatively since this is my first half-mara. But still I can't bear the thought of lardasses being ahead of me just because they were super 'kiasu' in walking to the start. Thankfully, my more rational side prevailed, and I didn't use tear up the roads, lest I flame out on the way back. On a tangent, I observed that many went out real fast, irrespective of their current physical shape, and I was proven right even within the first mile or so, when the first fatsos were panting like crazy, while some suffered on the way back.

Anyway, it was certainly a surreal experience running on a bridge at 5.30 in the morning. The air was cool but I wasn't shivering or cold. The sky was also very beautiful, and looking into it was like looking right into the universe. And to those of you wondering, yes, I was able to enjoy the scenery, I was going that slow. Going in towards the halway point, I was very comfortable, perhaps too comfortable, for I reached it in 54 minutes, waaaaaay over my target of 47-48 minutes.

Having known that, I decided that it was now or never, and decided to 'fly'. If I have to endure a painful finish then so be it. At this point, my breathing and heartbeat were fine, barely strained in fact, it's just my legs that were my main concern. They always seemed to break down before I am able to reach exhaustion. Anyway, I started to overtake people. Along the way, I was surprised to find out that so many older guys were faster than me up to that point. Either that or they had a damned good start. No matter, speed is the preserve of the young and I made short work of them.

I was even more surprised when I passed the mid-span, for there were a huge number of youngsters ahead of me. Most look younger than me. I can't be THAT slow, or could I? Fortunately, it turns out that they are participants in the 10k junior race turning back. In spite of having 10 km more, I still found the energy to pick them off as they tired in the closing miles. Call me an egoist, but there's no greater pleasure than seeing the looks on their faces while I am smugly gliding past them, while trying to convey a sense of apathy.

With all that said, I managed to run the second half in 48 minutes for a time of 1 hour 42 minutes. not bad at all in my book for a first attempt. That is also good enough to redeem my failure on Friday by my reckoning. That's all for now, as I am incredibly tired. There will be more to come about the post-race, but that is a story for another day, maybe tomorrow.

Calm before the storm

This post was supposed to be written yesterday, but I was out nearly the whole day, and by the time I returned home I was too tired.

Flashback: It was a particularly hectic day. I had to wake up at the crack of dawn even though it was a Saturday. The reason, a day camp in school, projected to last until late afternoon.

In the beginning, the camp was really boring. Ironically this was the part where we were supposed to do some ice-breaking. I spent the better part of it admiring the puffy clouds adorning the sky-blue, uh, sky. Truly a waste of a very good day, I thought. Somehow, I just wasn't in the mood for some fun and games (friends in the know would be aware of the reason). Things have failed to live up to expectations and it set the tone for the day.

Thankfully, we had to move on to other activities very soon after, but not before a few long winded speeches by the organising committee and teacher advisor. Even though this is supposedly a motivation camp, I was anything but motivated at this point. My thoughts were elsewhere, in tomorrow's bridge run and about someone. I was merely going through the motions, reluctantly participating in games and making my apathy known. This was coupled with fatigue, with me having less than 5 hours sleep the night before.

After a quick break and refreshments, we proceeded to being tormented by the officials in charge, usually with water. We were put through silly tasks, some even humiliating. But in the spirit of being sporting, I had to suck it up and take it, even though I wanted to punch some of their lights out just for being so annoying. I guess professionalism is the order of the day for me. I just don't see their humour.

I did manage to sit through the whole thing, I thought. Alas, we had one last task, the most odious one of all I reckon. We still had to sit through the closing ceremony of sorts. Imagine this, a whole room of stinking teenagers, I really do have a high tolerance for BO. To me this part dragged on the longest, the self-admitted compulsive talker teacher just couldn't stop talking. The committee also had a lot to add. All the while, my mum was contantly ringing me and pestering me to come out.

Anyway, we were allowed to go, sort of, since we were called back moments later for some more ear wax cleansing speeches. But it was too late, I had seen my chance, and I took it with both hands. I just strode out without looking, even though they were specifically calling for me to stay for a little while longer. My mum and her accomplices, my aunt, cousin and sis, were already in the school compound, ready to whisk me away.

We went downtown to try to obtain a Physics reference book. It was a futile search and we adjourned to a nearby cafe for high tea or early dinner depanding on how you look at it (it was 6pm at this point). Next, it was off to church for me. I was mentally fatigued and very disturbed.

To clear my thoughts I had already decided to take a romantic stroll, with myself thank you, even though I had a half marathon to endure tomorrow. This time, I decided to take a walk to the Esplanade, this way, I could also do some reconnaisance for an upcoming competition. The route there in itself is not that tough on its own, but the drivers in Penang seemed to decide to congregate along there, for traffic was constantly flowing. It is a wonder that despite all the carbon monoxide present, I still did not pass out. It is during times like this that you get a good look at Penang. For instance, I could barely make out anything at all along one stretch, since there were totally no streetlights! It was a harrowing experience walking through some places, not for fear of muggers but for the fact that Malaysians are such damned good drivers.

Close calls aside, I did manage to reach the Esplanade in one piece. But it was on to another threat to my sanity, high pitched singing. I have neglected the fact that the state level choir competition was being held at the Dewan Sri Pinang hall there. The moment I got within hearing distance of the building, my senses were assailed by a chorus of already high pitched voices singing on falsetto. They were enough to make my hair stand straighter than a flagpole. My friedns in the choir would probably disagree, but I just don't find listening to that type of sound pleasant at all. I endured that for the minute or two it took to move to the back of the building.

After touring a few rounds around the vicinity of the place, it was time to go. My original plan was to walk back along the same way, but my legs simply wouldn't allow me, not if I want to survive my upcoming half-marathon with some pride. And even if I physically could walk home, I wasn't mentally in shape to. The dark stretches and historical aura would have been too much. Plan B entails a bus ride home, and the jetty was just around the block. I spent 15 minutes walking there, only to find out that the buses were heading there straight into the depot. In the end I had to turn to my last resort, my old folks.

So after 2 hours of walking around aimlessly trying to clear my head, I wound up waiting in front of Dewan Sri waiting for my chariot. All the while assailed by strains of high pitched sound (I refuse to call it music). This sums up my day pretty well, my issues were still unresolved, and I am still depressed.

Champion loser

If there a something that I am really, really good at, good enough to become a champion in it, it is definitely losing. Some of you who have actually read my previous posts might think, 'Wtf! Didn't this guy say he was some kind of awesome runner? Then what the hell is he talking about being best in losing???'.

Yes, I lose in running a lot, in fact I lose especially in running. Well, I am good enough to not look bad in running but not good enough to get number one, in other words, actually win. That's right, I have the impressive record of having never crossed the finish line first in a track race, and only once on the roads.

State level, district level, even school level, you name it, I have never won it.I do have a sole gold medal gleaned two weeks ago from a 4x100 relay, but in that instance I was the lead off runner, so the thing about never crossing the finish line first stands, and it was not a solo effort anyway. Oh yeah, my sole road race win wasn't exactly a road run, it was my school's hikathon up Penang Hill. and it was also shorn of all the top athletes in school that year.

My streak as a perpetual loser was supposed to end today in the 1500m, especially since I have had a relatively solid block of training behind me. But the stars conspired me, as it turns out, my advantage turned out to be my undoing, with my legs leaden and unable to respond to my teammates charge. Even the elements were against me. The storm clouds were already on the horizon this morning, but they chose to pour down in torrents just as we were lining up at the starting line. The first two laps were still okay, even though my legs were starting to get sore, but then it all started to fall apart. I found that I couldn't keep up even as my rivals were passing me, it was simply impossible to work my legs harder, my lungs wouldn't allow it. The damp air was hell for me, I felt like I was at a high altitude, and at one point I even thought my long dormant asthma was going to strike. Things were so bad that I considered doing something that has never occured to me, quit.

Enough of all the excuses, my rivals were too good, credit to them. If there was one saving grace in my dog of a day, I ran what I felt was my best 400m leg ever. It was totally unexpected, since it was on less than 30 minutes after my big tank out. I was on my school's 'B' team as the anchor, my very first time as anchor mind you, and the image of falling flat again was very much at the back of my mind. When it was my turn to carry the baton, my team were a few metres behind in last place, and lane one of the track was a big mess. I tried to keep close to the runners in front while I bide my time, all the while vowing to atone for my screw-up and half expecting my legs to fail. Surprisingly, my legs felt fine, I guess the 1500m was a good warm-up. Anyway, I managed to bridge the gap by the final corner, and was able to overtake the guy in front to grab third place.

Bronze is hardly a good consolation when you are gunning for 2 golds, but at least it will get me fired up. I just hope I will find redemption on Sunday...

Perspective

This post is a serious one. Should it sound funny, humourous and disrecpectful to the subject matter, I sincerely apologise.

My past post was about the passing of my running shoe. However, a recent passing of the human kind has certainly put my whining and momentary sadness in perspective.

A member of Chung Ling High School class of '05 was killed in a motor accident yesterday. In a sense he was the first among us to go. I feel this accident has given a sense of sobriety to temper the usual youthful feeling of invincibility among us young people. Death has suddenly become a possible fate that might befall us anytime, not some blurry image at the corner of the eye.

Even though I don't know the deceased personally, his death does have the impact I described on me. And from the comments I hear from my ex-schoolmates, it does impact them too. Even though I might not be back-slapping buddies with him, it is still surreal to hear of someone you have seen quite often for a long period of time (5 years) die.

I was originally going to devote today's post to the hikathon I took part in earlier today, but I was forced to take a hard look at my life. We are mortal man, anytime could be THE time. And if I am not taken by Death myself, someone else close might. This time it might be the turn of a passing acquiantance, but it might be a good friend next time, or even family. Many feel that it is not auspicious to contemplate the death of friends and family, but I emphatically disagree. Death is a real and distinct possibility nowadays, really to cast its dark shadow over us, to smother the light that is our lives.

Premature death is also very hard to take. Who knows what dreams the deceased had, dreams left unachieved. At least he won't be around to witness the shattered dreams. That is not something I can say though for his family, who have to face the anguish and disappointment.

Anyway, I want to end this by asking all the young people who are reading this to cherish your life, no matter how cliche that sounds.


R.I.P. Khoo Seng Kong, you will be in my prayers, and may your family find comfort and strength.

Sad news

While a new pair of running shoes make their appearances in the service of Peter Chong, another pair, or rather the right half of it, is about to give out.

My Reebok Racer-Xs were bought about 7 months ago. Since then they have been serving me faithfully, never complaining even when I dragged it through the mud during insane hikathon or when I was boiling it running on sun-baked tar roads.

I knew in my quest for some measure of running success, sacrifices had to be made. So in addition to training hard, my shoes also have to bear the brunt. They have been holding up well, and it was my hope that they would at least see it through under I am done with the Penang Bridge Run. This was agonisingly close to reality, with the run being a week away.

Alas, it was not to be. I guess the writing was on the wall. Since the past few weeks, the shoe has been feeling flimsy, and my right foot has been cramping up as a result. I put it down to the foam wearing down after hard long distance runs and thought nothing of it. I didn't even make the connection between the foot pain and the breakdown of my shoe until today.

It finally happened today, or rather I discovered it today, God knows how long the damage has been there. While inspecting my right shoe this afternoon, I noticed something amiss, the sole and the foamy part are not aligned. So i decided to prod. Turns out that the sole was partially separated. The worse thing is that without the sole to hold it in place, the relatively pliable foam has expanded making it virtually impossible to glue the sole back on right.

With one week to go, my busted shoe has left me in a quandary. I could not reasonably adapt to a new shoe in so short a time, not for such a killer distance anyway. So I will have to do the next best thing, 'loan' my brother's right shoe, since he has the exact same model of the same size and he doesn't use it much. There is however the small matter of actually getting his permission. Initial attempts at persuasion have proven futile. If push comes to shove though, I will have to errr, shove back, I am thanking my lucky stars that my brother is still smaller than me.
_____________________________________________________________________________________
In memory of my right Racer-X. You are gone but not forgotten, and I will do my best when the time comes, for you.

Fucking InDog'sAssAreans

Once upon a time, there was a little kingdom called Pearl Island. It was a nice and idyllic place, just partially polluted, with just a few open burnings here and there, but still, not too bad overall.

Its status of being just barely polluted was envied by many, and chief among those was the kingdom of InDog'sAssArea. This kingdom of foul, vile and uncouth people hatched an abominable plan. They developed a sophisticated way to deliver poisonous air to Pearl Island. Since some of the more retarded inhabitants of Pearl Island were already openly burning their shit, the InDog'sAssAreans decided to beat them at their own game, just that instead of the usual garbage, they used their rainforests. They reasoned that since they have shitloads of jungle, they might as well use them to fool the Islanders.

In their opinion, their diabolical plan was fool-proof, as it needs to be, since their kingdom is mostly inhabited by fools, and it was time to launch it. The benefits would be two-fold, pollute the life out of Pearl Island and mislead them that they were the cause. Part one of the plan worked, and the island was shrouded in smoke and ash, violently disrupting the lives of the islanders, especially struggling runners, who couldn't train because of the %@#$#$# haze. Part two however left much to be desired, since the InDog'sAssAreans neglected the fact that the islanders actually have enough intelligence to deduce that the amount of haze casted does not correspond to the total amount of shit produced by the island.

Beleaguered and with their backs to the wall, their government came up with a masterstroke, the 'act don't know' tactic, where they would deny all responsibility and act helpless, dropping excuses like it's out of their hands if their people decides to use the forest as their own oil reserve.

And with that, Pearl Island was left to their own devices. But there was really nothing that can be done, save heavenly intervention. While the haze continued its reign of terror, a young runner was slowly being tormented. He couldn't train, right around the time when he was down to compete in a few races. He too knew he was at the mercy of the lethal smog, so he prayed, and prayed, and prayed. His prayers went unanswered for a few days, but the skies did finally open up one day, but just a bit. The rain lasted barely 5 minutes, just enough to mock the young runner. Still the runner didn't give up hope, and continued praying. The next day, he got his wish. Raindrops the size of erasers divebombed through the air, right on the young runner, enough to make him soaked, as if to remind him to never have doubt, to never believe in the power of darkness.

At the end of the rain assault, the haze was pwned, for now...

Eat your heart out

On Friday, I had the pleasure of watching the latest 'Pirates of the Caribbean' sequel with my friends. The film involves the frantic search for a chest(the box, not the body part) containing Davy Jones' still beating heart. Apparently he decided to rip it out because he couldn't stand the pain of his unrequited love for a girl. Some big, bad mofo couldn't stand it, boo hoo. Hell, I go through it quite a lot, but you don't see me make a hole in my chest(the body part, not the box).

Anyway, it got me thinking. What exactly is worse than ripping the heart out, to me? No doubts about it, the answer came to me in a flash, deny me physical activity or exercise. For most of you non-exercise junkies, this may make you think, 'WTF?!', but it is my heroin. Sure, my heart will still be beating, but it will be beating for no purpose at all.

Recently, my nitpicking parents have been waging a campaign against me doing football tricks in the corridor of my apartment. They allege that I was causing a building shaking racket, and I was 'disturbing others', what 'others' they didn't specify exactly. As for causing an almighty din, I admit that there will be some noise when I lose control of the ball, but certainly it is no noisier than when my sis is practising her piano. Speaking of which, the 'music' she has to play is even more annoying, to the point that I want to do a Davy Jones and rip my brain out. My parents really can't say I am disrupting the peace, since I play way before 11pm.

Sometimes, I feel they are doing this just to spite me. Since being shown the red card by them, I feel like another piece is being ripped out of my already lacerated soul. It is how I express myself, along with running. I also feel they let my sis get away with polluting the environment with noise just because they actually have to pay for her lessons. I am becoming increasingly disillusioned with them, so much so I really believe they are a pair of hypocrites.

New kicks

In my last post, I fleetingly mentioned the tragedy that bestruck me, no, not the personal one, I mean the one where I lost my loyals running spikes. Well, today I rectified that little detail.

I am now officially a proud owner of a Brooks Z1 running spike *claps*. Ok ok, I might be a little bit overexcited about that, but I am really happy about this purchase, nevermind that it cost me RM180, or rather it was more like RM 80 since the friend who lost my beloved adidas reimbursed me RM 100.

Although a simple trade involving a running spike should not make for much interesting reading, i truly had to undergo some drama before I could get my grimy paws on my Z1s. For starters, I decided to wander out of the safe confines of Gurney Plaza to go to Komtar. Price-wise, Komtar owns Gurney hands down, but it is a different place altogether from the sanitised and clean corridors of Gurney. The numerous vagabonds and possible druggies lurking in the shadows means it is not a trip for the faint-hearted. Oh yeah, and did I mention it's the old part of Komtar that I am heading to?

Anyway, I did not even have the privilege of riding a chariot to my destination. Nuh-uh, good ole' mum and dad had to bring my sister and her friends to the Bon Odori festival, and decided that it is best (for them, probably) that I walk from there to Komtar. Take it as exercise, said Mum. Wtf! Exercise my ass! As if I need this type of stroll as an exercise. As if I don't have enough of it. As if I need to tax my muscles with nonsensical waste of energy after a hard workout. Yes, it's exercise, but only for you mum, only for you. To top it off, I was led to believe I only have to walk '300 or 400 meters'.

Ok, I am starting to sound like a 'putera lilin', but the fact is I just did a hard workout barely half an hour before, and my legs were pounded real bad. The sun was also in its element then. No matter, my parents will never understand the difference a little strain can make on an athlete. They belong to the caveman theory that more exercise is good for you. I think its probably because more exercise for them means one more stroll around the field.

Forgive me for digressing, but I just had to get this off my chest. Anyway, I managed to survive the walk to Komtar without collapsing or getting mugged. Not eager to make a bad mistake, I decided to trawl the complex for the best offers. It was truly an eye-opening experience. There was one shop selling highest-end football boots. Boots that I have never laid eyes on in the flesh. Hmmmm, interesting, turns out that there is more to it than meets the eyes about Komtar. Of course, you got to really go to the inner bowels to search for it. One thing that I noted is that shops in Gurney charge waaaaay too much. Sure, it's a known fact that stuff in Gurney is overpriced, but I never knew it was by so much. Some of the shoes there were going for as low as 50% the price of the same shoe in Gurney. Prices are also negotiable.

A half hour of searching later, I finally found something that looked right. Ok ok, it was more like it was forced on to me, since it was the only worthy distance spike there. A wannabe track champ ain't gonna go for some no-name made-in-China shit. But the thing is, it sort of clicked with me. I knew I wanted it, and the price was not wallet busting, it was also cool looking (again, to me). For those of you doubting my taste, I will try to post a picture so you can decide.

Even though I found the spike, there were hurdles to come. For starters, it was the last pair in the shop and it was two sizes too small. The salesgirl had to scurry off to a sister store downstairs to search for a pair. Alas, it was a futile search. So I had to trudge off to another store downstairs, where I saw the same model being sold, but with a higher price quote. The moment I enquired about the availability of my size in that store, I was given the same answer. Turns out that this was actually THE sister store. I was feeling so stupid. They were actually trying to show the semblance of competition by opening two branches of the same store, under different names of course. This was eerily similar to the pearl traders from 'The Pearl'. Ah well, as long as it's cheap I don't mind.

Anyway, back to the spikes. I had to make a crucial decision, settle for a lesser spike or put off the purchase. In the end, after taking into account that my spikes will be needed for a competition in two weeks' time, I decided to go for the former. The lesser spike in this case was the adidas Titan. Not a bad spike actually, just that it looked less snazzy. Just kidding, it was priced lower than the stated price of the Z1, but after a discount it turns out to be more expensive than the Z1. And in addition to that, after weighing it with my built in hand scale, it seemed a tad heavier. I just generally didn't have the same vibe with it. Nevertheless, while the storeminder was out back taking out the Titan in my size, I stole a glance at the Z1-that-was-supposedly-not-my-size, it certainly looked bigger than the puny size 7 in the previous store. While trying on the Titan, I decided to enquire about the size of the Z1s in the store, what the heck, it might be the last pair there, but it might also be a size 9, no harm asking at all. Turns out that I was right, it was a perfect fit.

In the end, this story had a happy resolution. I ended up walking into the sunset with my spikes tucked under my arm, ready to emerse myself in the Bon Odori celebrations that were going on.

Anyway, here are my babies:

When it rains, it pours

After some careful though, I have come to the conclusion that my life closely parallels the weather. I kid you not. It has been raining wolves and tigers this past few days, and it coincides with a particularly bad run of luck, even for me.

My training was interrupted, due to the rain itself, and my body couldn't manage to recover from the unbearable fatigue brought on by running 30km the week before. And I am supposed to run 22km in one shot, go figure. I fear that my fragile legs will be replaced by stumps when I cross the finish line 5 days after I started.

As if my body giving out on me wasn't bad enough, my equipment decides to mutiny, probably due to Captain Jack Sparrow's influence. My running spikes decided to get itself stolen, just in time for my impending race as part of a 4x100 relay, tomorrow.

Actually all of the above isn't really that bad, well maybe the fragile legs thing is, but still not the major cloud in my sky. I am talking about something that strikes to the core of your soul, and rips part of it out. The personal part of my life has been taking an even harder beating my blog is getting from Ju Ping's. It has been getting worse, and I have been reduced from running rings around people to soliciting songs from my friends, so you can imagine to gut-wrenching impact it is making. I am getting the cold shoulder from someone, and as cliched as it seems, it is the worse kind of torture. That's all for now, I hope I can bring myself to say more in my future posts.

Knowing my luck and the current path my life is taking, I will probably blow the whole relay. Something along the lines of dropping the baton, then tripping on it, making a faceplant into the field in the process. But in case, I somehow do manage to buck the current trend, and win, I am so going to change my MSN nick to 'speed demon'. Yeah, it's trivial, but I need to take my mind off some bigger issues.

smoking our youth out

As if to further support the notion that parents do not necessarily have their kids' interest in mind all the time, I have come across parents who actively harm their kids. Physically no less. No no, I am not talking about child abuse, that is oh so ubiquitous that it does not warrant any special mention. I am instead referring to the common sight of smokers lighting up in the presense of their own offspring.

I just can't believe anyone would be so self-absorbed in pursuing what they like to do that they would mess up their kids' physical development. Any potential a child has in sports would be smoked out by their retarded parents. Thank God, mental incompetence isn't hereditary.

Or is it? We have all read about the 'monkey see, monkey do' attitude kids adopt whenever they are around mummy or daddy dearest. We have even witnessed it first hand, cue incidences of daddy kicking a football, and junior attempting to follow suit, only to split his bum falling down. Only this time the kid might actually succeed in imitating his parent, since smoking is so easy that the fools have no trouble doing it. And by actually upgrading to first hand smoking, the kids themselves are also therefore accorded the status of 'Retarded'. With a vicious cycle like this, is there any hope left for mankind?

Emotion = fuel of the future

Ever wonder what motivates me when I do something? What keeps the motor ticking relentlessly for miles and miles on a downcast day? To me, the answer is very simple, my emotions.

I am not an emotional person, I don't like to go ballistic just because some bitch in school ticked me off, but emotion it is that keeps me going. Perhaps keeping it all in does play a part though. By not channelling it through conventional means i.e. mope around in self pity, flood Penang with tears, thrash a classroom, dance around naked, I think I might have found an alternative means of powering my endeavours.

Case in point, I have been quite disappointed with a multitude of issues lately. So I did what I usually do for therapy, run till I drop. However, when I am usually in a funk, I don't have much energy, so dropping usually happens within the first 20 minutes or so, or the first tough part of my course. I was expecting more or less the same with my current disappointment, perhaps worse since I have been very down. But the more I ran, the more the anger and disappointment built up, and before I knew it, I had already coasted my way to a 10 km run.

It's not uncommon for people to work their socks off when they are under the red mist, but it is a stimulant with an edge. Rage and emotion are usually accompanied by hurried decisions and mistakes. However, running as a 'dumb' sport, where the only thing you need to do is travel from point A to point B in as short a time as possible, makes pure emotion a viable source of motivation. Motivation that should be tapped instead of controlled.

Anyway, I am just fucking pissed now.

Nature's own limiters

Worried about mankind becoming too smart or too proficient in life? Well don't, because after reaching a certain level of civilisation and progress, nature's own limiters will kick in, for most of us anyway. These limiters are almost unavoidable, they are bonded so close to us that it is virtually impossible to ignore their influence. I am talking about parents, modern parents specifically.

Call me an ungrateful brat, but I totally believe that our own parents are limiting our potential. I don't blame them though, for they seem to do this unconciously, and all 'for our own good'. From our very first wobbly steps, our parents have been working hard to put limiters on us. After the initial euphoria of being able to stand upright, we are soon told not to run, for fear that we will fall. What then, is the use of our legs. If a kid worships his parents, he will very likely grow up to fear running about, so deeply is the sentiment ingrained. While it seems like common sense to protect a child from the pain of falling, it is no less unnatural. Mother birds don't run around all day forbidding their hatchlings not to fly, and the danger is even worse for the chicks should they fail, certain death. Besides, it is futile for the mother bird to try to prevent what natural instinct deigned them to do.

Another common limiting technique exhibited by parents is showing displeasure whenever a child tries to explore. When we were young parents would strongly discourage us from even stepping out of the safe confines our the house. Simply because it was 'unsafe'. Well, it will be if the parents just let them go about on their own, but most parents don't want the hassle, so they just use the easy excuse. And if the child insists on doing what his natural instinct tells him to do anyway, the parents will resort to scare tactics. Using scary animals to deranged psychos, and concocting elaborate urban legends and hearsay, a little child is cowed into line. This, I think is the most damaging of all. Parents fail to realise the influence their words can exert on a budding mind. Take myself for instance, my mum likes to 'invent' answers to my questions. Perhaps it's ignorance or perhaps it's sloth, most of the statements I have taken for fact are usually way off the mark. But for my own curiousity in finding out the truth in my early teens, I might still be believing in most of these untruths. Even today, I find that there are some views I hold that are clouded by what my mother ingrained. It is as if another lamp lights up in the labyrinth of my mind, whenever I debunk an implanted myth, to clear the darkness sown.

The displeasure shown isn't limited to the exploration by little kids. Even us teenagers are told to get real, should we even dare to dream of a non-conforming occupation. In the long run, it is going to be detrimental to our society. Other non-popular jobs might not be as glamourous, but they won't starve you if you are willing to work hard at it. Additionally, I don't think being just another face in a whole crowd of professionals is going to do you any good. By oversaturating a certain field with people, and consequently underdeveloping other fields, mankind will be made to suffer in the long run.The response is even worse when a youngster dares to strike out on his own, and forge his own career. It seems that our Eastern culture frowns on leaving the herd and establishing your own territory. At this stage, parents resort to emotional blackmail to reign in their wayward child.

Speaking of emotions, oriental parents seem to be the most willing proponents of pessimism, or as they like to put it, cautiousness. they are quick to pounce on a minor mistake and magnify it a thousand fold. For my parents, they go one step further, linking my bungle with every single perceived slight I've made. Luckily, I don't usually pay much heed to their psychological warfare, else I would be a quivering wreck wherever I go.

Everything I have written is based on what I experienced. While I do not claim to have first hand knowledge on whether my experiences ring true for my peers, hearing them speak and seeing how they think has convinced me that most of them have sadly been brainwashed. Unfortunately for this type of indoctrination, the more obedient you are, the worse you are likely to end up.