woke up at 9pm and realised that I have slept too much. Disappointment filled me as I didnt wake up in time to go for my usual 4km run. Havent been running for a week and eating a lot for this week. Staying at home isnt great, cos I eat more. Three good meals are always provided at home by my darling mummy. It is sinful to stay at home. But I have four consecutive days each week to laze at home for the coming weeks, someone please save me.

Sat in the living room trying to convince myself that a run today and a run tomorrow will not make any difference. But it kinda failed. I decided to run. Headed downstairs and realised that it was still drizzling. Cursed myself for not wearing my cap. Comtemplated whether I should continue running or go to the gym. Decided to continue. Everything felt different. There was no motivation in running today. No strong urge to do so. Told myself that I should just go for it. Started running. Saw this group of teenage boys in their school uniforms. Decided to change to the other direction. Didnt want to attract any attention as I was running alone. Yeah, dont laugh. Boys, you never know what they can do when they are in a big group. Ran, for a 100 m. Saw the dark narrow path that I always run. Something in my mind, kept telling me that I shouldnt run that path tonight. I turned back, and went home. Lost, in my own world of thoughts.

Where's my passion for running?