Tag: runner

prompt: finding a deeper meaning to running than simply running

*there was nothing but the road at the plan until the edge of the horizon. A man in his 20s is running on that road. A few runners in jerseys, shorts, and a running band around their sweat-soaked hair were ahead of him. The rest had already gone far ahead.

“All that the man possessed were his camera and a water bottle. The thing that he thought would be the must-have in this epic journey turned out to be the ones that were weighing him down. He felt tempted to throw them away by the dead tree next to the running path, but he decided against it. He was willing to carry the burden in the present for a better-rewarded future.

None of the runners spoke to him. They were also in a miserable state. A few decided to walk instead. The man could not bring himself to walk. Even though no one was looking at him, he wanted to finish this race, running.

Under the blazing sun, he could feel the moisture rapidly drying up from his soft body. He felt threads of muscles under his chin strained. His throat was burning, and his lungs were drying quickly. He felt soreness in his thighs and his shoulders. His feet and calves had gone numb a while ago, and he had been mechanically moving them one after another. The road seemed to not end, regardless of how far he ran.

He emptied the last sliver of water into his mouth. He started to see a village with a bit of pasture around it. He let his head fall after drinking the last bit of the water. Just staring at his feet, he focused on moving them one after another. What was the purpose of this? It would be far too easier to walk. If comfort is what the body craves, what does it mean to go against it and keep running? Is there something more than just living?

Then he heard a shout: Yala, Yala! A middle-aged man with a hearty lump of belly watering his garden was shouting at him. Although he did not understand what he was shouting, he knew what the man was saying: “don’t give up! Keep your head up and keep running!”

Something in him surged over to his legs and his arms. Recklessly, yet courageously, the man started to run. He ran as hard as he could. The world began to brighten. Everything seemed to be turning white.

Then there was an arch of the gate. As he walked through it, he entered an empty farmhouse garden where a few other men were panting and drinking water. He had made it. It was the finish line. He let his body fall to the ground and rested there, panting. It was worth a while. It was a worthwhile run. And he was grateful for having made it all the way, running.”