Among all races marathons are fine with me because I have a head made from rocks of bullshit so I hardly quit something when I want to prove something.
Among all races the shortest runs are fine with me because I’m quick to see the early patterns and mold myself quickly to pull ahead.
All other races I’ll probably finish last or terribly underperform because of the total lack of discipline and planning.
Of all races hurdles races will probably fuck me up the most because I don’t jump when I’m literally in front of the hurdles and even then I will still think I have plently of time left.
The more hurdles i fails, the more scared I am to move forward to another ones. I want to see all the hurdles, so I can plan to get over them, but then if I see all the hurdles I’ll probably just run in the opposite direction instead.
I probably do best when I run alone, on an isolated track. I don’t have to compare to anyone, and I don’t have to be distracted by anything.
Somewhere along the track I met someone who jumped the hurdles with me and sooth me when I’m down.
Too bad I just stumbled even more juggling with emotions and decisions and everything ugly in life.
This is not a nostalgia post, neither a complain.
This is me facing another hurdle right in the face, attempting to trick destiny and defy logic.
I just have to jump through 2 more hurdles before I start working on my real marathon.
The one that I put my destiny on the line.
Gonna be a piece of cake.