I picked up my stride, racing against the hovering clouds that evidently carried with it a deluge. As I headed straight to the CCP oval for my routine run, I chanced upon a crowd of people coming and going with deft motion of their nimble paces when it doggedly drew to mind how I sorely needed a break from the ubiquitous hustle and bustle of the city. Of course, with summer classes rolling, it’s more than a bleak spot for me to do so geographically (at least ideally; plus my parents would never allow me going AWOL by myself, even for a day’s time). And so, I was up and pouncing – ready to brave the warm zephyr that’d roughly brush against my skin with every tread against the torrid asphalt ground as much as I was (and looking forward, actually) to get doused running on account of the forecasted rain showers. So long as it would only be me, the track field (however wet) and throw in the pitter-patter of rain to boot. At that point in time, nothing else seemed to matter bar for a change of topography and pace (no pun intended).
Setting about in a docile mood, I passed by Rizal Memorial Sports Complex in no less than 10 minutes. I suddenly mused upon the likelihood of altering my running routine (which never crossed my mind before, as I’m one innately inclined to routines; I mean, who isn’t? They are familiar and convenient, plus they safeguard the mental model concerning security disquiets and what not). Albeit this time, my steps strode back and forth as the possibility seemed to grow more and more appealing. After all, Rizal’s track and field oval is renowned for its huge proximity and open-expanse of free ground – and yes, the track and field area encircling that of the soccer is the same spot where the famed Philippine Azkals Team played soccer against others from all around the globe.
Truth be told, it took me quite awhile to maneuver myself around the parts as it was my first time to set foot on the complex grounds. It only took a number of directed twists and turns until I finally found myself on the track oval. At that instant, I regretted not having my camera along with me. The scene was really a sight to behold. Like a little fish engulfed in a large, open pond, I took in all the sights of towering buildings above and around the expanse that graced the much-needed shade in light of the unbearable blazing weather. There were but few yellow-suited repairmen working on the bleachers but I didn’t really mind – at this point, I couldn’t have cared less on who was there so long as the track ground was there to greet me with open arms.
Running my first few laps, I noticed a guy coming to view who stood below the forefronts of the stands, overlooking the soccer field. On hindsight, one could infer that he was an adept training coach, with a whistle hung down his neck, sporting full-length jogging pants and pumped kicks to match. Every time I neared the spot he was situated on, he never failed to let out an unfeigned type of candor which led him to state subtle observations coupled with lucid tips, with respect to my running form – stride distance, leg muscles to target, pacing frequency – the works! Unreservedly, I addressed him as ‘coach’ (it was as if it wasn’t the first time we’d crossed paths) just like in a course of a training session. In between these cursory exchanges while continuing my rounds, I couldn’t help but ponder as to why this man would even bother giving me pointers (for free, at that) even as I responded diffidently yet appreciatively by drawing a number of discreet queries up my sleeve.
I pushed for a couple of more rounds out of my system for about half an hour, thereafter climbing myself up to the mid-section of the bleachers to thoroughly take in the panoramic vista set before me. I took a gander just below and incidentally, coach was right there on the same spot we had first talked. Like myself, he also was one enjoying the vast patch of green scenery. Without reservations, I approached coach and started conversing with him anew. I can’t quite come up with a clear picture as to how it transitioned but somehow, he ended up sharing about his life – tracking back all the way to his family’s Chinese-Spanish roots; Danny being his name and all; how his grandmother had the same last name as mine; the number of children and grandchildren he has at present (beautiful ones at that; like a proud 55-year-old granddaddy, he was beaming with delight as he showed me their photographs); his accomplishments in the past, harking back to his glory days as a national hurdler athlete; the people he’d trained before and the ones under his fold right now; he even designated some athletes out on the oval and pointed out our country’s representatives in the forthcoming Olympics. That, and really, virtually anything and everything under the sun – how the rubber jackets on the track should constantly be replaced; the importance of exercising regularly; the proper way of doing sit-ups and back-ups; how the stamina yielded through regular jogging enables you to run for your life whenever the situation arises (he even cracked a pun on this one) and; how he sincerely thought I was 25 years of age (I forgave him for the latter when he offered not one but two cups of ice, cold water to quench my thirst).
So here I was, listening intently to an athlete-turned-coach’s life story to which he was sharing like an open book. And as he sat there on the sidelines and I on the rubber-covered asphalt lane, it suddenly dawned on me that this was the rest I’d long been hankering for. It wasn’t a real-time lavish vacation fronting the beach, nor was it a premeditated isolation to cut myself off from the rest of the world (although yes, the former would be nice). It wasn’t even my preliminary ‘vision’ of jogging under the bracing rain on a warm, summer day (though close, but still). On the contrary, it was but a mere going out into the open field, navigating through untraveled shores, or in a nutshell, a simple crossing-the-road experience – one of which naturally implies stepping out of your comforts and consequently moving forward towards the road/s less traveled.
Often times, we aspire to shift to greater heights in hopes of finding repose (others, a sense of personal fulfillment) where in fact, all it takes is a shift of paradigm from that of which we have long been so familiar with. Sometimes we, in our shortsighted nature, find in our limitations the capacity to take in constrained (or in this case, all too familiar) standpoints, shortchanging the fact that maybe all it takes is one step back to see the broader scope of it all. Simple it may sound, yet the obvious isn’t always apparent now is it? A pithy Haitian proverb reads we see from where we stand. Change the location of your feet, follow the unconventional travel itinerary, go where most people (or better yet, you yourself) do not, and see things differently. Who knows? You might even get that interminably yearned-for breath of fresh air in light of the pace-shift. I sure did.
I took that one step and roved about that road personally untraveled, and doing so enabled me to meet a trouper coach who not only gave me free lessons on running, but most importantly, on the things of life that are worth noticing, reminiscing, and evoking – these things that are just about everything.
“Give thanks in ALL circumstances, for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus.”
1 Thessalonians 5:18
Oh yeah. And about those puffy, grey rainclouds? They took a raincheck this time. :)
May 3rd, 2012
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#revelations
#thankful
#change
#jogging
#writings
