On running and a crisis of mortality

This is going to be one of those posts that you get after a few weeks of hiatus. As some of you have cleverly pointed out, there is a lag between the first draft and the publishing of the posts on this blog. So, while most of the time the first draft is written close to the actual events happening, the time of publishing puts everything out of whack. Just bear this simple fact in mind when you are reading okay.

The good news to most of you is that I am still alive, still breathing, still living, and yes, still running. The last bit is, to me, a rather odd question that people ask. Yes, I am in and out of various injuries, but I don't tell you about most of them, so there is no way that you know them because I haven't told you. So the conversation goes like this.

Q: Do you still run?
Me: Yep.

And then silence.

I don't know what to make out of that, to be honest, so most of the time I just don't answer the question altogether. I mean, it is no coincidence that the people that I asked these questions often are not people who run on a regular basis. Yes, I notice these things - I see trends and patterns when others don't.

The question is almost as annoying as people who say they are busy, and I am one of these annoying people. I am so sorry. I don't mean any disrespect when I say that, most of the time, it is merely a statement of fact. I was told the other day that there is a fine line of being honest and being rude. I have a feeling that I have often blurred this line far too many times.

These days, running is something that I do for fun, I derive this irrationally odd pleasure out of it. I get excited at the idea of a run, get excited during the start of the run, feel a lot of pain during the run, and then this pleasurable tiredness at the end. It is addictive. If I could run everyday, I totally would. I run often enough to keep myself entertained, but no where near what I did during this time last year, when I was training for the City2Surf.

I admit to one frustration, and that's my left shin. That is the one point that I feel is very weak due to the recurring shin splints in the past few months. On the grand scheme of things that could go wrong when one runs so much, I get that this is a very minor issue, but an issue nonetheless. I would not say I have found a cure, but I do find changing shoes very helpful. I am currently running with a pair of ASIC's and am seriously considering switching back to Nike's.

Last night before I fell asleep I had a crisis of mortality.

I am not dying. I don't have a chronic illness, at least not yet diagnosed that I know of. I do not know what it feels like to be dying. All that I experienced, mostly self-induced, was a crisis of mortality mostly in the form of what would happen if I die.

I would not delude myself; the world will not be less for my cessation of existence. There will definitely be no more writing, no more random thoughts published in this blog (at least not mine), and perhaps slowly, this blog (and Project RumnRaisin) will just wither into cyberspace. I don't think the office would miss me, but my friends and loved ones would, and the latter are the ones who have to live with the associated agony.

And I would not be around to soothe them off their pain, in fact, my passing would probably be the sole reason for it. Is it even possible to do something for them to at least alleviate this impending pain while I still can? Would all the memories that we have shared and created be good enough to keep strong during the times that they need them the most.

If I have the choice, I would prefer to die in not too much pain. And preferably surrounded by people I love, after leaving them with the knowledge of what they mean to me. This sounds clichéd and somewhat, well, predictably saintly. Right now though, at the time of writing, that is the only thing that I could think about. Just as well, because this is the one thing that feels right to me.

If I can leave them with some comfort to help them live in peace with the time they have remaining, then I guess that would be my going-away present.