What I talk about when I talk about running

I ran, for the first time after the injury, this afternoon for an hour.

It was damp everywhere. I don't feel like running down the riverbank as usual - the route is favourable in any other moment except a rainy day. I can't run in the woods either, very muddy. So a very unusual route has stood out: streets down Willowtree and reach the footbridge at Claypath, then I can decide whether to continue to the riverbank or run back. Nice.

It's all about running when you run. Not other philosophy such as mental courage or physical balance. I don't normally run with an iPod, I am annoyed enough keeping the sounds in the world off me - I need a sound which only comes from silence, but there isn't silence when the world is around. That's why I carry an iPod, and exactly why I don't carry it running as well. I don't need a sound when running. The noise of the world surround me and I feel the silence.

Isn't it great that you can't hear a sound when they are all around? Only when running, cycling and swimming can this happen to me.

Back to my route. Well it was a failure. I thought it was one way down with a couple of wind-backs but nevertheless there be only one direction. I have overestimated my ability in figuring out the English maze - blocks of standar-looking houses. It was very pleasant until Dean's Walk, followed by the second wind and... I found myself going back. I doubted it and went back to Dean's Walk, and I couldn't find a second way to get out of this crescent. If I continue, I will be either running around this 150 metre circle or returning to Willowtree.

Finally, I ran the bigger circle of Willowtree Avenue four times - and completed my 1-hour run at Churchill Street, opposite to The Shoes. Shame.

This was my first run during the past one month. An unsuccessful abmormal route was the poor theme - not dogs, not football, not secret garden, not bare foot in chilly water, not blossom, not dogs shit, not anything else like my run in the past. It was boring blocks of brick houses and noisy teenagers. Still, it was not unpleasant. I finished every metre with the presence of my mind, a mind concentrating on...running!

So there's no difference where I have passed.

Haruki Murakami has this peaceful mind but he is far too professional:P He could write a book and I only taste the joy myself, in a 'non-systematic' way.

- Bird.
- Yes lady?
- I can't see a thing.
- It's all in your mind.

Nick Drake - Cello Song

A music writer from Tamworth, Staffordshire. Folk.

I'm sure my laid-back Wong likes it in a Friday afternoon with gentle breeze. Could you play this for him, honey? He will be rolling his chubby body slightly with the music.

It's raining here. Durham: 10°C, Current: Light rain, Humidity: 89%

Guangzhou: 29°C, Current: Clear, Humidity: 51%
This moment Wong must be sitting next to you. You reading and he quietly lying. In the air it is James Morrison.

The brown one looks like my dog

XM: Ah Wong's missing!! Have you seen my puppy, kitten?
Ah Wong: Mou, mou, mou...

(Learning a foreign language is important, even though I have an accent.)

p.s. I've got a new random question.

When I've just found inspiration in Gilesgate...

Damn you extinguished it.

'I have no tree waiting for me.' V

Today is the one year anniversary of the 512 Earthquake.

I saw people who have done something.
I saw people who have done nothing.
I saw people who have done nothing and pretend that they are heroes.

Till when would this leviathan stop doing stupid ass?

It was life. And they showed no respect.

When it was anything else, they pretended to be an innocent personnel inside an inextricably-tied body. Shall this be called insensitive? indifferent? callous? dead? No, they called it human instinct.

When they dare to cover the guilt someone inside them has committed, when they dare to show unbelievable calm facing an interrogation, when they dare to set themselves as heroes - when, afterall, the disguise has been taken off, they cried they couldn't help to. This is called human instinct. This is because every person is an innocent personnel inside an inextricably-tied body. This is because nobody can escape.

What the f. You are dead. You don't even think you can be humanitarian when it comes to the question of life.

We cannot afford another earthquake. Not because of the fxxxing economy etc.
But our fragile humanity.

1344m

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