Running

To many, running a marathon is probably no big deal. But to me, it's no small feat. My memories of childhood consists more of seeing the doctor for coughs, colds, asthmas (albeit only mild ones) and almost nothing on being active in any sports. The only memories that were sports-related were the many times when I broke my glasses playing basketball. Even then, I wasn't really playing- all I remembered was everyone fighting over the ball and the next thing I knew I felt it smashed into my face and my glasses either broke into half or went out of shape beyond repair. (Oh no wonder I have a flat nose!!)

And so, the fact that I used to be the sick kid made my participation in this marathon all the more meaningful. I didn't do it to prove my dad wrong (he told me outrightly that I couldn't do it) or to prove that I'm physically fit; I did it because I wanted to challenge myself to something I wasn't completely sure I can do. To me, it's just as much a mental challenge as it is a physical challenge. God only knows how many times I wanted to quit, even on the night before- I was still thinking of ditching the race or scaling it down to 10km. But! I persisted. And though I stopped to walk for a few miles due to abdominal cramps, I still got to the finish line. I can't even begin to explain how exhilarated I felt when I got there! I couldn't jump around and scream "I did it I did it I did it" because people would stare and think I had come out from some psychiatric hospital, but really, that's what I felt like doing. No I didn't win anything, but I'm still on cloud nine even as I write this. :)  Ok some pictures.