“Overdue” by The Get Up Kids reminds me of the aging process… “Twenty four years overdue, what kind of role model are you? Very least learn not to do, I think I might be over you. Do hope I won’t learn to make the same mistakes that you would. Make me aware that only fear, my only hope, is letting go…”

The sun had come up again. Congestion charges in London had started (to the dismay of savvy commuting car-owners). Birds were singing. Trees were swaying. The world continued to turn on its axis. It was just a normal morning the day I turned 24. No alarms. No surprises. Actually, that’s not true. There were surprises.

I tugged at the laces of my running shoes whilst looking over at my old pair, relegated to the space under the radiator. When I had the tacit understanding that the shoes were snug around my feet with enough room for swollen growth, I looped the laces and tied them into a bow against the tongue. I left the house and broke into a run and for the first time in a long time I was unsure of where my feet were taking me.

After much procrastination I was finally back to it again; the 8-letter word that strikes fear into comfortable men and women: “Exercise.” Some might say my running was symbolic of our attempts to blindly catch the fleeting moments that make turn young men into old men. Others might compare it to a progressively unevening abacus, whose surreptitious sliding beads represent the passing of each opportunity to make a difference. I’m not even sure why I decided I wanted to get fit again. I think it was partly due to reflecting back on those times at school when I was the fastest long distance runner for 2 years running, or perhaps due to the fact that physical laziness made my mind feel like it didn’t have enough breathing space. Healthy body, healthy mind. Whatever the reason, I wanted the best of both worlds.

With my heart racing and my lungs trembling, I continued onward. When I left the house, it was cold, but now it was reaching a warmth that could rise dough. After a while, I felt that distinctive burning sensation once again. It was the exact same sensation that compels people to stay indoors and shun activities that furiously work the sweat glands. It has been said that the first day is always the hardest day. This is true of many things, which include school and as I now came to remember, jogging too. With the first day of a new school in a new town, you’re plunged into another environment where absolutely everything is alien to you. After an extended period of not-running, the first day back to running is similar in that you’re suddenly in an environment that feels alien to you. Outside, the wind was flailing through my hair and the world dashed past in fast forward, turning my peripheral vision to a constant blur. Inside the housing of my rib-cage, it felt like my heart was rebelling against me and was slowly enlisting my other organs as allies, to protest against me and everything I was trying to do. The heart is a complicated organ and pumping blood is just a small part of what it does. During those implicit times, it makes its presence known through pain. Lactic acid burned my muscles and if I had listened closely, I may have heard the same fizzling sounds that effervescent tablets make in water. For the first time in a long time there was a shift in equilibrium and my body generally didn’t like it one bit.The only loyal organ that wouldn’t give in was my brain, which pushed me to keep going and to ignore everything else attached to me.

I still don’t feel any older. In fact, I feel like I haven’t aged at all for a few years, but thankfully retained everything I had seen, heard, smelt, felt and tasted. If it’s possible, sometimes I really do feel younger; infused with the same brawn I possessed a time ago when I was one foot shorter. I feel the same happy-go-lucky optimism as I did when I span round and round, drawing imaginary concentric circles for my best friend at the time; a sweet little Border Collie puppy named Bobby. Sometimes I close my eyes and I’m transported back to those times. I never experienced unnecessary stress as a kid. At least that part of me remains untouched by the fleeting years.

I was truly touched to hear from all of my favourite friends today, wishing me well. I was also surprised to hear from other friends whose faces had started to become an array of blurred edges and curves. Every year I always get asked how it feels to be a year older and I’ve always said that it feels no different to last year or the year before that. The only significant change this year will be in speech, since I can no longer truthfully say I’m in my early twenties any more. It’s a whole different ball park now, but I am still holding the same bat and the same confidence I’ve had over the years. Everybody runs from something, but today I ran just because I forgot what it felt like. Sometimes you need to feel some sort of burning inside, for it reminds you that you’re undoubtedly still alive. During these moments, everything that was once clouded or hidden away in the back of my mind, moves forward out of blurred opacity into a sharp focus. Reality dawns on me: I love my family. I love my friends. I love life. It doesn’t get better than this.