Determination. Sweat. And a stupid pair of Brooks

I started my exercise regime today. And the plan was to start running after a long period of inactivity and gluttony. So, despite the rain in the evening, despite the lethargic me, I put on my pair of Brooks running shoes, courtesy of the RSAF, and trudged into the glowing darkness of the night.

The weather was great. Cooling but not cold. And the night serene, but not eerie. For a start, I gingerly did a slow jog to test my body responses to months of inactivity. And within 10 minutes, I was giving my legs the full steam ahead, at least until the pain in my knees hit me. Again.

But with my usual stubborn determination, i ignored the protesting of my knee as I slowly pounded my way up the winding road to the summit of Mount Faber. It was terrible. I never felt so much resistance from my body before. It was as if my legs were tied with tons of lead. I struggled just to take the next step and that was when I pondered on the significance of going through all these torture.

Yet I pounded on. So did the pain in my knee.

Fifteen minutes into my jog, I finally, finally reached the top of the summit. As I bowed over to catch my breath, I felt good. I felt as if I could conquer the world and that I did in fact conquered the world (or the summit).

All the pain. All the sweat. It all seemed worthwhile.

On my way down Mount Faber after cooling down, I had also decided that the Brooks from RSAF is crap. In the wet, my Brooks has zero levels of grip which caused me to lose traction and slip forward a couple of times. And just when I thought it was safe, the shoes lost traction and i found myself barreling off the footpath onto the slopes of the hill.

Luckily, I managed to grab the footpath with my hands so that I still enjoy the experience of walking down to the bottom of the hill rather than tumbling down along the slopes to reach the bottom.

What a stupid pair of Brooks.