There’s a saga tree in the park where I go running.
A friend used to tell me that I have to think of myself as a runner, not a jogger. Running is like being a hungry shark, eating up the distance with your killer feet. Jogging… jogging is like, bad running. Jogging is for pandas, or similar soft and chubby animals, who grumble and whine and sometimes can’t get out of bed.
I’m more of a jogger. Which is to say, I hate running. Or rather I hate myself and all the terrible resistance up to the point I actually start running. The running itself is not too bad – my heart rate goes up, and suddenly, for a moment, I no longer hear the chattering of my mind, and am just a pair of feet and lungs.
Anyway, every time I make it to the park, I pick up a saga seed and put it in my pocket to take home. I keep them in a jar on my desk. I like to see it there, those hard little stones of pain and effort, a fistful of bright blood-red. Stone by stone, drop by drop. That’s how to work.
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Antid Oto – italian for antidote – was one of Leon Trotsky‘s earliest pen names. I also love the Malay word for it: penawar. A few months ago, I started taking regular walks and making drawings afterwards as a way to deal with worry, procrastination, hopelessness, writer’s block, internet rage, and digital distraction. I’ll post a series of them here, one every other day, for as long as I keep making them.
