Running with Gangsigns

Today I feel like running.
So I did.
9kms to be precise; my house to the beach, along the cliffs to the neighbouring beach, then to the next beach, then back to my beach.

I run to music, LOUD. My running playlist is full of 90s dance tracks; it's a wonder I don't stop mid-run and break into the Running Man. Running is a fairly new thing for me, and it mocks me quite a bit. I don't actually like it all that much; I HATED it when I first started, so I signed myself up for a 10km run to force myself to run more. I'm like that, I love a challenge, especially when I feel mocked by things. These days though I'm pretty fit, so the running is kind of, dare I say, enjoyable? Certainly enjoyed myself when I ran today, dressed to the bare minimum of shorts and singlet, the salty air licking my face and sticking to my hair. I felt ALIVE man.

Whilst pounding the pavement, rounding the bends of the cliffs, watching the icy blue water hammering up against the rocks, I thought of running as a metaphor for life. Everyone runs to the beat of their own drum don't they? Some go at it like a dog on heat, barely pausing to take in their surroundings. Some shuffle along cautiously, pausing to take a breath, take stock. Others just amble along without a care in the world, no real purpose to it but taking it all in. Me? Apparently I run with gangsigns. My little sister taught me how to do them. We laughed when she taught me as she is so hardcore that they totally suit her huge man hands. I have such tiny little dainty hands that they just look out of place, ironic. So today I looked down whilst running, pondering on the metaphor of it all, and noticed that my cute little dainty hands were running with gangsigns.

I'm at the biggest crossroads in my life right now. My world is full of conviction, confusion, laughter, tears, growth, stagnancy, mockery, irony. To me it makes perfect sense that I was running with gangsigns and I didn't even know it.