I completed my warm up jog around the track and began to pick up the pace.
The running track at Commonwealth served primarily as an exercise space for New Town Secondary School students. The track is also opened to the public, a wonderful thing at that. New Town Secondary School is no longer there but St Theresa's Convent has taken its place. Known for their field hockey prowess, the girls spend more time on the artificial turf within their school compound instead.
It was 6pm already. The track faces an MRT train station which was abuzz with people getting off work, heading home after a day at the office. The sun continued beating down on the growing number of joggers at the track. While Singapore does not have four seasons, we do experience more hours of sunlight during the Northern Hemisphere summer time.
Ten rounds, that's the aim. Ten rounds of 400m on a bitumen tar track. Jarring for the knees but it's my best bet given the amount of time I have to play with.
As I commenced my run, an Indian chap in a white tank top trots over from the side stairs and begins to run alongside me. It's not really a tank top he is wearing --- more like the sleeveless underwear one wears under a a business shirt. But I'm not fussed.
Genetically speaking, we Chinese can't jump, run or swim faster than our counterparts from other continents. And yes, while China churns out fantastic athletes, the vast majority of us are happy to be confined to recreational exercise...and the auditing of Profit and Loss sheets. And so, knowing my genetic position in the hierarchy of human physical abilities, I decided to slow down and let the Indian chap run on ahead.
He didn't.
Ok, so maybe there are some young strapping Indian chaps who are not so pre-disposed to running. Or maybe, he was being courteous.
I decided to pick up the pace.
So did Indian chap.
I slowed down to let him run on ahead.
He slowed down too.
Hmm...
Ok, I have tried my best to accommodate him. Since he is not picking up my signals, I'll just run on ahead.
First round.
Second round.
Third round.
Hey! Indian chap is still pacing me just half a stride beside me!
You know the feeling when someone is running beside you? You can't see him but you know he is there? How would you feel? I don't know about you, but it's as if someone was breathing down my neck, and it's not fun.
Now my feelers are scanning for possible reasons as to why he is tailing me so closely.
Maybe he is lonely; maybe he likes my scent (yuck!); maybe he is gay and wants to hit on me (happened to me once...you can never be too sure); maybe he wants to pick my pocket; maybe...
I try to lose him on the 4th round. I pick up my pace and decided to apply full-on Chi Running and steamed on ahead.
Round 5, and he was still there.
As we entered the bend to complete the fifth round, I had concluded that this chap probably just wants company on his run. Oh well, so be it.
As we entered the sixth round, I hear him panting heavily and gasping slightly for breath. That was when he turned to me and said,"How many more rounds to go?"
I could not suppress my grin as I turned to him, running stride still in motion.
"Four more to go," I replied in a half pant,"What's your name?"
"Rizal."
I reached out my hand,"I'm Paul, pleased to meet you."
He flashed his pearly whites, offered me his sweaty palm and we shook.
"I will finish the same number of rounds as you," Rizal quipped.
I offered,"All right, let me then slow down the pace for the rest of our run."
Though he did not say it, I could feel the sense of relief wash over Rizal.
And that's how two strangers jogging on a public track spent the remaining four rounds --- chatting and jogging.
Rizal is from Malaysia and he works at a hotel in Singapore as a Receptionist. He is going to take part in an Inter-Hotel Track & Field meet this weekend. Today's run was meant to be a training session with some colleagues. Since they were late, he decided to pick the first person he saw on the track and pace him --- that would be me.
As we completed our run, we bade each other goodbye and walked away in separate directions. I wonder what he was thinking as he walked away. Was he glad that we could run together albeit over such a short distance? Was he thinking about how to train for this weekend's race?
I guess I'll never know. But I sure was glad that he wasn't trying to ask me out on a romantic date.
