Exercise or a workout does not stand for physical movement alone. IT is symbolic of ‘your time’. When no one cares if you grunt or cry. Where the words, ‘neat’, ‘tidy’, ‘polished’ ‘refined’ are only applicable to the quality of your movement and not to grooming. Where you go breathless to feel alive for the rest of the day. Where you push yourself with all that you’ve got inside but you are really learning to take on the world outside. One such poem I wrote after many long runs on Singapore roads, parks, bridges and water fronts…sometimes at 7 pm, sometimes at 12pm and sometimes even at 2:30 am.


The Thumps against the road form a rhythm…
a melody for my mind
the pulse of my body
a song for my soul.

Steep roads,
winding turns.
My attempt to resolve
and come to terms.

Road blocks and pep talks
the thumps pump my thoughts.

As I trace miles for minutes,
Senses alert, I move inwards.
My heart and feet thump in unison.

I feel at rest
the same moment I feel recharged…

To set the rhythm again.
To thump again.


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