Your Sixty Minutes
24 hours, 24 hours make a day and yet somehow, at the end of it all, we are really left praying for some more hours. 9 hours of work, 2 hours of commute, 7 hours of pretentious-sleep and you hardly are left with time to do something that you have always wanted - to do the things that you love. Then, there are the deadlines, the expectations of others and your own unique hell that you carry from yesterday. The collective weight already makes you feel like dropping back to bed and call in sick. And yet, somehow, you know you cannot afford to do so. There is this meeting to attend, that mail to send, that college kid whom you cannot ignore anymore for sponsorship that he so desires. The Autumn morning looks eerily dry and all you can do is pray that you don't snap.
Your days have become the symbolic representation of monotony. There are friends, some who meet you every now and then and yet this is the same lot that is not there for you when you give them a buzz. Everyone's busy these days, or at least pretending to be busy. There are so many things that you have to do that the notepad in front of you seems too small. It's still some time away, may be hours, but still some time away - the meetings designed in hell, the client who is the veritable hell and the hellish discussion where you will have to agree whatever the hell they are asking you to do.
You get up, with the sore back from last night making you rethink the decision of getting up at all. You rub your sleep away from your eyes one last time and look at the track suit that's hanging, asking you to move your buttocks off the bed. One final stretch and you're up. Putting the gear on seems a breeze and before you know it, you are out facing the slowly awakening road on a misty Autumn morning. The Sun is yet to come out, the sky still playing with a few clouds before they leave to inevitable oblivion.
The road greets you as you quicken your pace to warm your body up. The right leg doesn't catch a cramp, one thing you're so grateful of, your head has stopped hurting and you are feeling light as a feather. Then that one car passes by the final signal, giving you the impromptu GO to begin. And then, with one deep breath - you leap.
Your pace seems quick, you slow down a bit, allowing your whole body to get back in sync together. The seeming pain of your ankle goes quiet, the legs don't hurt anymore. The sore back has now quietened down. Rage Against the Machines pounds your head and soon, you are in your own Universe, where the world of yours slowly trudges across vast distances and nothing else remains - not the disappointments of yesterday, the sadness of today, the hope of tomorrow or that smile that's not there anymore - except the pounding heart and heavy breathing.
The bridge arrives and your pace reduces. You must keep running, for there are thoughts that want you to slow down and then there is that conviction within yourself to increase the pace. You listen to the latter. The inclination is burning through your quad muscles and any moment, you feel, you may fall down, but the morning Sun on the horizon has broken, making you strongly optimistic - not this day.
You have shaved 5 seconds off the time today. The lake gifts you with a mild Fall-wind and you sit, your eyes closed, smiling. Your sixty minutes plug you back to yourself and you are ready, ready for the day. Your armor may be a li'l broken, a li'l chipped, but you are still breathing, you aren't done yet.