Running Away from Boredom

People who complain about being busy obviously have not had a taste of extreme boredom. It's worse than having an itchy spot on your back where your fingers can't reach to give it a good scratch. You know you ought to move your ass and do something, anything; but for some uncanny reason, it's rooted to the chair or to the bed or to wherever you parked it on. You'd rather just sit there, and stay as inanimate as your other furniture, for as long as it takes rigor mortis to set in. Or until you eventually get bored of looking like a retard, and decide to put on your sports shoes and go out for a jog, just like what I did.

Taking a jog out of boredom was my first time. The last time I did it was for the peace of mind. It helped clear my head and offered me solace, albeit a temporary one. Ironically - or, should I say, in a masochistic manner - it feels good to have every muscle in your body throbbing in pain, and your lungs screaming for air.

However, I didn't achieve what I intended to when I set off for a one-hour run yesterday evening. The legs were vaguely aching from the weekend's badminton session but no bursting lungs. In fact, I was enjoying the run, to and fro Tamagawa 4.55km away from home.


Alden, I can see you stifling your laughter! I'm not a marathon runner, mind you! But maybe I should try to cover 10km within an hour the next time!