First run

Did it.
Finally made it to the crowded streets and vast roads, the place where neither Mother Nature nor the people occupying it cares about you.
Only took less than three months, but heck – did it.
And it was dreadful.
Taught it was hideous enough in London when I ran like a goof-ball up and down the streets trying to find the park that was suppose to be “very, very close, just follow the bla bla bla road and turn left”, only this was different.
All I wanted to do was disappear, or at least turn left and run away, from the staring faces and the judging stares.
But as city-orienteering’s not one of your best skills, you chose to do the there-and-back routine; follow the same street until you’ve done half of your running time and then double back.
Instantly regretting this decision when you realized you had to unite with this scenery again just in order to get back home.
So you make the quick turn into the, small but nice, park.
Boy was that decision in line with one of those sad ones in your life.
The massive groups of too old Chinese exercising their morning ritual were immense.
Just getting out was more intense than running thirty-four flights of stairs five times.
Then I thought that one quick stair-lap should be the 'dot over the i'*.
As I almost died doing it I’m still a bit uncertain I made it or not.
The fact that I pin these lines down might be evidence I did make it.
Or maybe I’m in cyber-heaven.
Wonder if god’s a one or a zero there/here?

*Great Swedish expression