Day 34: Starting line

I was never one for running. I know there are many of my friends that thrive on the track- they run for fun, for crying our loud- but I'm just not one of them. I do sports here and there, have been since school days (it was mainly netball then) till a triple left knee injury left me rather incapacitated sports-wise. Doctors banned me from sports for a good while, and I was forbidden to play anything competitively anymore. No more training, no more running around, no more drills (though I must admit it was nice to not have to do circuit training which I've always hated).

It worked out in the end: I joined the editorial society and realised I could write rather well; got roped into do drama by a good friend of mine and realised I could pull of a show pretty darn well; and was forced into debates which, I must say has been one cool ride.

I suppose what I'm trying to say- not that I have any real point in this entry- is that where we start is really so arbitary. Its almost random to the point that its hard to say that we'd even complete the race we thought we began. That sometimes, whilst running you find yourself having to pass the baton, pass some friends, and sometimes the race takes you onto some strange terrain, into unknown, unchartered places. Where we change paths, discover new things and keep on running anyway.