Run

“Oh well I’m the type of guy who will never settle down...”

While catching my breath in between sets, I noticed my trainer Ken looking thoughtfully at me, so I stared back at him, puzzled.

“You do 15 minutes on the treadmill, right?” he asked.

“Pant, pant—yup—pant, pant,” I replied.

“So how many kilometers is that?”

I frowned. “I have no idea. I only look at the number of calories.”

Ken laughed heartily then said, “I’m gonna sign you up for one of those Sunday runs.”

“I kiss ‘em and I love ‘em ‘cause to me they’re all the same
I hug ‘em and I squeeze ‘em, they don’t even know my name
They call me the wanderer—yeah—the wanderer”

I like Ken. As a trainer he’s cheerful by default, easy to get along with, knows how to encourage me, and laughs at almost any and every joke I crack. Sure, he has his off days; during those times, he’s just quiet and pensive. But then I didn’t hire him to be my clown.

He likes to spring surprises on me. One time he asked me if I could bring my swimming trunks for our next session. I ended up doing aqua calisthenics for several sessions. Another time he just appeared with a pair of gloves and boxing wraps. But he and I were both surprised when I actually enjoyed boxing!

But the one suggestion from him that I’ve always resisted is running. He first approached me with the idea three years ago, and every time I resisted. I was never a big fan of running simply because, well, it seemed boring. I’ve ran once or twice when I was in high school, and though the Ateneo campus is a great place to jog around, I got bored. But I was a high school student then.

“Well, I roam from town to town
I go through life without a care
I’m as happy as a clown
With my two fists of iron, but I’m going nowhere”

So back to Ken, who was trying to describe to me what 5 kilometers meant: “Start from Paseo de Roxas, go down Ayala then turn right to Buendia, then go all the way to Paseo. That’s about two and a half kilometers. So just double back, and you’ve done five.”

For some reason, I didn’t feel like resisting the idea this time. I imagined the route. Heck, I can achieve that by walking, I told myself.

Ken could see the gears in my mind whirling. “Sige, one day I’ll just sign you up for one of those Sunday runs at the Fort.”

I raised one eyebrow at him but kept my mouth shut. Hmmm, a five kilometer run. Can I do it?

“And when I find myself fallin’ for some girl
Yeah, I hop right into that car of mine, I drive around the world
Yeah I’m a wanderer, yeah I’m a wanderer—
I roam around, around, around, around, around, around….”

— “The Wanderer” by Dion