I make it a priority not to run for buses. Or trains in this case.
Maybe it’s because I have a crippling fear of failure. Running leaves me exposed. If I run and don’t make it on time, it would’ve all been for nothing.
All that hope and energy wasted.
Maybe it’s because running reveals what horrible shape I am in. Is there a worse image than a person keeled over, huffing and puffing as the bus glides away? The look of despair in their eyes. Disappointment in their gasping breath.
They tried and failed.
But today, I ran and won. I wont even bother to be ambiguous about what propelled me.
Soccer. If I caught this train, I could make it home in time to watch most of the game.
Maybe that’s the difference between an athlete running for the net and a person trying to catch a bus. An athlete upon seeing the goal line is fueled with every inch to persevere. The train-chaser too I suppose. What awaits the athlete on the other side of the pitch? Glory …and failure. But they never hesitate to run.
Drenched and gasping for breath, I never thought I could find glory on the inside of a train. But catching this train felt like a victory to me.
And I should also probably work out more.