What are you running after? I asked Jornet. Having beaten men, do you now want to challenge the mountains? He gently corrected me. You don’t beat the mountains. You go when they permit, he said. The speed records and “firsts” aren’t important except for motivation, he insisted. Then he mentioned the Uruguayan writer Eduardo Hughes Galeano, who once likened the ideal of Utopia to the horizon — goals that retreat even as we chase them. “The important thing is not to catch something,” said Jornet, whose own memoir, “Run or Die,” will be published in the United States in July. What matters in life is the pursuit, and everything we learn along the way. “The important thing,” he said, “is moving.”       

- from http://www.nytimes.com/2013/03/24/magazine/creating-the-all-terrain-human.html?pagewanted=4&smid=fb-share

the fight

if you are going to try , go all the way. this could mean losing a lot in your life , even your mind. it could mean not eating for 3 or 4 days. it could mean asking yourself why are you even doing it. it could mean self doubt. it could mean not seeing family, missing out on friends.it could mean losing girlfriends and wives. it could mean long nights alone. it could mean mockery. it could mean loneliness, it could mean derision , isolation. and that my friend is the gift. along with that you have hope, belief, the dawn of a new age. draw strength and inspiration. during those moments of isolation, during those moments of loniless what you do with it , what you do with the time given to you that will define your life, that very moment.

everything else is a test of your endurance, how much you really want it. and it will be better than anything else you imagine. you will be alone with the gods and the night will flame with fire. you will ride life straight to perfect laughter, of bliss , of contentment. its the only good fight there is.

- adapted from factotum charles bukowski.

hitting bottom

and there she was, standing beyond his reach. she looked back at him and was ready to go on. the glint in her eyes spoke volumes of the hurt she would later face. but she wanted to go on away from him, not by choice. move on for now she could no longer look into his eyes. was it so difficult for him to love her after the nights and days they spent together ? the moonlit streets with lights hanging around did not dispel the darkness that was entering between them. he paused for a bit, breathing heavily. he felt the pang of emptiness. at the same time he knew he did not care.

he was stone-faced. looking straight ahead, almost as if he was looking right through her. he was probably looking at her-soon-to-disappear figure as she walked out of that place. it was a crushing finality. he did not understand when he began to be like this. when did he become the person that could so easily give up someone so important. the person who didnt care enough. it really shouldnt happen with the person you claim you dearly love. the vaccum was filling up his body. and haunted he will be that he was certain about. by not walking along with her his mind will be haunted.

breaking the silence she remarked how was that he was so quiet today. normally the one with a lot of words, even charming her world with his words being silent is not a virture. especially given that everything was at stake today. with half a smile he could only mumble some words, barely a sentence. in the quiet streets that seemed like an echo in her ears of what she did not want to hear. the cold breeze enveloped the streets into a chilling reality. so then i will leave, she said and .... he looked at his shoes. it was a sign to her not make it more difficult than it already was. he turned around and walked home. he slowly looked up and the vaccum took over his entire body.

the best of times

the water was flowing into the heater warming up the room. that was the only distinct sound he could hear right now. he was tired. and with a cigarette in one hand and the glass of vodka in another he was set for another long night. but only this time he was going to voluntarily pass down memory lane.

it was the best of times. he closed his eyes to a time long ago. he was at the edge, the edge of his life. wanting to feel something significant. he held her eye and in that moment he knew it. it was like a wave across the ocean battering against the rocks. their hearts pounded, tears were shed, smiles were shared, kisses were spent. she said one thing, he said another and they were lost in time. they walked along sunset kissed rivers. she adored him, and he filled her senses. they would get lost in a crowd, lose themselves in each others world. the flame was burning brighter by the minute. the world has a strange way of testing the stuff dreams are made of. they didnt realize it was burning .. slowly burning out and soon it unraveled.
he smoked a bit. pulled in a drag. and released it slowly till it left every inch of his body. he looked at the glass and played at the tip. he knew tomorrow was the day. tomorrow was the day 10 years ago.
there was pressure, a lot of it. expectations of idealism in a realistic world. standards set by passionate lovers, like two fishes in the sea once together soon lost in translation across continents. promises were broken, hearts were damaged and they could not be in the present without looking at the past. without hurting each other. he watched as it all slipped out of his fingers. he wanted something to fill his pain. he took another sip of the vodka. the warmth spread and he lay down his body across the floor.
as he looked at the roof, her smile filled his vision. he reached out for her but that was a fools errand.

now it seemed that he was just sailing from one port to another. there was something beautiful about every port he stopped at, a smile .. a laugh ... the eyes. but he still was sailing not knowing where to rest his weary body.
and he closed his eyes, images took hold of his thoughts he knew she was smiling somewhere out there.