by Bilal Saloo
I started running last Monday, as miserable as it was.
Stood, wearing my cap to keep my hair all back
and black trainers on my feet,
I pulled on a T-shirt from the drawer,
proudly showing it’s folded crease.
Waiting for a lull in the dull grey clouds,
dripping rain gave way to streaks of sunlight
I took my chance and ventured out, stretching
I focused my mind on my attainable sights.
Starting with a walk, I looked at my watch,
at exactly 10 O’clock, I started running,
Legs striding, arms pumping, heart beating,
breathing steadily, confidence growing, easy…
for 20 metres. There was an ache within my chest
as I struggled to catch my breath, gasping,
Legs cramping, arms flopping, heart vibrating,
blood rushing almost at bursting point, dizzy,
A stitch in my side, a pain in my back,
globules of sweat pouring from my skin,
pain in my shins and under my cap.
I stopped running last Monday, at 10:01am.
I trudged home a failure, with aching feet,
and lay flat on the nearest thing next to the door,
tired, exhausted, and weak, waiting
to return to normal once more.
I started running last Wednesday.