The sun is very bright. It's 6 o'clock but it seems more like 3. But the air is cool
I put on my red shoes. Suddenly they look too red. But debating on the right colour of shoes is a lame excuse.
I have to do this today.
I don't feel like smiling to anyone. So I look mostly down. I hear my son calling out for me as I'm rounding the street corner. Too late.Too far to go back. Whatever it is, his father will have to figure it out.
As I move, I hear voices from left and right. I hear cars and motorcycles whiz by. Occasionally, I look up but I stare ahead, not looking at anything in particular.
I spot a regular pakcik who creepily calls out, " Running again? Who's taking care of (my) grandchldren?" every time I run past him. Today, I make no eye contact. I don't even lift up my head. He's smart enough not to say anything this time.
I'm nearing mile 1 but my chest feels heavy. Suddenly I can't breathe. Of all days, please not today.
But it's happening. My bronchioles are closing up. It's been a while since my last exercise induced attack.
I try to suck in air. But they come is gasps. My feet are still moving. I don't want to stop. If I stop I'll never get this done with. If I stop , it'll be too far and too long to walk back home.
I'll run this out. This will pass.
I keep moving. More slowly. My breathing labored. I see my shadow on the street, following. Its shoulders are slumped, spine not straight, butt jut out too much. My body is automatically posturing itself to get more air in my chest. My shadow looks like an old woman shuffling.
I can't breathe. I can't breathe.
It's annoying how some people spell breathe as breath. You wanna bash them on the head.
I concentrate on my inhale and exhale. In, in, out, out. Sometimes, it's so tight, I have to go Innnnnnn, in, in, out, out a couple of times.
I'm rasping. I hear a slow moan escaping me involuntarily.
My stubborn head tells my feet to go. Brains to feet : Go!
Feet to brains : Lungs won't let us.
Brains to arms: Pump harder!
Arms to brain : Can't! No air.
People whiz by. Boys laughing on their bikes. Girls giggling of their catcalls. I look down. They won't see me panic. They won't see me in desperation.
Mile 2 is nearing. Lilac beeps.
This usually passes. It'll eventually go away. Your bronchioles and alveolus will take their sweet time to open but they will open.
Left, Right, left, right. Put one foot in front of the other, rinse and repeat.
Boy, this is unusually taking a long time. My hands are clammy and I notice I've rolled them in tight fists.
I see a guy on a bike. It has a lovely green frame. Like Granny Smith apples.
Why are green apples Granny Smith's. Who the hell is she?
Last mile. Lung is clearing, Finally. That took too long.
I gather my steps. Try to make myself go faster. I want this over with so bad. Faster is not helping.
I turn into my corner. My neighbors smile at me and I try to smile back.
They had no idea I almost collapsed on the road.
I open my gate. Suddenly realizing I'm breathing almost normal. Almost.
" How was the run?" he asks not looking away from the computer.
SCKLM 2017 - Running Clinics
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