Running to, from, away.
November 25, 2011
(I know I promised to write about my thesis after someone asked it in my question box, but after this afternoon, this felt like it needed to be written first. It had to. I shall do a post about my thesis over the weekend.)
--
I ran four kilometers today after a year of not jogging at all, and after two years of not jogging at the Oval. Long story short, it has been (more than) a while, but I surprised myself with how well my body responded to all the pushing my mind did. It's always nice to know I can do things that are far beyond my own expectations, especially when it comes to this.
Running around today brought me back to where I was the first time I did it two years ago. I was still at that point where I felt like I had lost myself tremendously amidst the insecurities and fears that suddenly came my way that year. I was on the receiving end of a lot of bruises to my ego - not being fought for, not being chosen, not being good enough - little things, really, but they all piled up and made such a mess of me. Then the idea of jogging came up. I was in a horrible state emotionally and mentally that I just said to myself, Why the hell not? What further harm can tiring my body do anyway when so far all I've been feeling on the inside is exhaustion anyway?
But things happened and fell into place: people came into the picture and made things okay. Suddenly jogging became fun, it became something to look forward to. It was no longer about me comparing myself to someone else or proving someone wrong - it suddenly became an intimate affair with just myself. Sure, my body still ached every time I got home, but it stopped being a chore, and actually became something that allowed me to be other than what I really was at that time: a mess. Because jogging was so uncharacteristic of me, jogging made me feel like I wasn't Karla - I was just... a runner. Running. To someone, from it all, away - it didn't matter. I was moving.
The second semester of 2009 brought unexpected but welcome changes to my life. I can, of course, ascribe that mostly to one person, who started seeing me beyond the standards everyone (myself included) was so keen on putting on myself. But this person notwithstanding, looking back, things started to change only after I made the conscious decision to let the baggage go. It was stupid, all of it, all of them, I finally realized. The first move I did after that was the running. Saying yes to jogging suddenly meant saying yes to letting myself open up to possibilities.
It was cathartic, running again today after two years. So much has changed, from my pace to even my disposition. Yet it's comforting knowing that even after all this time, there are things that stay the same. Jogging still and will always remind me of that time I finally let go of all the resentment. Of being loved, of being appreciated, of being thought of as worth it - each step just reiterated these feelings all over again. To run under those same trees, being reminded that it didn't matter how quick, just how far, was liberating. I was running by myself, but it was during those moments that I felt most cherished; there was togetherness despite being alone. No one was beside me but it didn't feel lonely.
It still doesn't. And it was wonderful to feel that again, truly wonderful.
&
Newer› ‹Older
Running to, from, away.
November 25, 2011
(I know I promised to write about my thesis after someone asked it in my question box, but after this afternoon, this felt like it needed to be written first. It had to. I shall do a post about my thesis over the weekend.)
--
I ran four kilometers today after a year of not jogging at all, and after two years of not jogging at the Oval. Long story short, it has been (more than) a while, but I surprised myself with how well my body responded to all the pushing my mind did. It's always nice to know I can do things that are far beyond my own expectations, especially when it comes to this.
Running around today brought me back to where I was the first time I did it two years ago. I was still at that point where I felt like I had lost myself tremendously amidst the insecurities and fears that suddenly came my way that year. I was on the receiving end of a lot of bruises to my ego - not being fought for, not being chosen, not being good enough - little things, really, but they all piled up and made such a mess of me. Then the idea of jogging came up. I was in a horrible state emotionally and mentally that I just said to myself, Why the hell not? What further harm can tiring my body do anyway when so far all I've been feeling on the inside is exhaustion anyway?
But things happened and fell into place: people came into the picture and made things okay. Suddenly jogging became fun, it became something to look forward to. It was no longer about me comparing myself to someone else or proving someone wrong - it suddenly became an intimate affair with just myself. Sure, my body still ached every time I got home, but it stopped being a chore, and actually became something that allowed me to be other than what I really was at that time: a mess. Because jogging was so uncharacteristic of me, jogging made me feel like I wasn't Karla - I was just... a runner. Running. To someone, from it all, away - it didn't matter. I was moving.
The second semester of 2009 brought unexpected but welcome changes to my life. I can, of course, ascribe that mostly to one person, who started seeing me beyond the standards everyone (myself included) was so keen on putting on myself. But this person notwithstanding, looking back, things started to change only after I made the conscious decision to let the baggage go. It was stupid, all of it, all of them, I finally realized. The first move I did after that was the running. Saying yes to jogging suddenly meant saying yes to letting myself open up to possibilities.
It was cathartic, running again today after two years. So much has changed, from my pace to even my disposition. Yet it's comforting knowing that even after all this time, there are things that stay the same. Jogging still and will always remind me of that time I finally let go of all the resentment. Of being loved, of being appreciated, of being thought of as worth it - each step just reiterated these feelings all over again. To run under those same trees, being reminded that it didn't matter how quick, just how far, was liberating. I was running by myself, but it was during those moments that I felt most cherished; there was togetherness despite being alone. No one was beside me but it didn't feel lonely.
It still doesn't. And it was wonderful to feel that again, truly wonderful.
&
Newer› ‹Older
Look for the girl with the broken smile.
Karla Bernardo goes to the University of the Philippines, where she is soon to graduate with a degree in Creative Writing, because she likes books enough to want to write them.
She is currently a features writer for Stache Magazine and has had her work featured on New-Slang. Her late nights often consist of intense lovemaking with Oreos and
passionate trysts with many strange, interesting (but very fictional) men. Her bookshelves are in dire need of repair. She enjoys scribbling letters in cursive, and wishes
that the interrobang be brought back from extinction because much like this punctuation mark, she finds thrill in the questioning. She has the tendency to get too attached
to song lyrics, especially those of Stars, Metric, and Deftones. She thinks it’s amusing that if you Google her name, you will find the Wikipedia entry for a Canadian serial
killer – which is why she suggests you just type
Bombastarr instead, so you can stalk her better through her blog of seven years (and counting).
If you've been living under a rock and think
Bombastarr is a threat to world peace or an object of covetousness, well get with the program, it's called a
colloquial metaphor.
She's kind of explosive. (Which just her
fanciful way of saying she is filled with angst-ridden emotions and rollercoaster-like mood swings, aka raging hormones.)
Want
more?
Featured Works
Writer at
Stache Magazine
A Spectrum of Change (December 2011)
Digital Art (October 2011)
Elements of Style (June 2011)
In Her White Dress (All-Art April 2011 issue)
Introductions (at
TeenInk)
One by One (at
TeenInk)
An Ode to The
Pillow Book (at
New-Slang)
Elsewhere
I'm pretty much everywhere, except Tumblr. Call me old-fashioned, but I'm a Blogger baby forever.
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