Run Lola (in this case, sohnii) Run

I present to you the runner.
Yep. Me. Moi. The Runner.
I’ve always loved running.
In 10th grade, I ran the 100m race on Official School Sports Day, didn’t stop at the finish line, ran straight into the audience section and toppled over a few chairs. They gave me the first prize for being so over-enthusiastic :D

I still love running. I’ll prefer it over any other form of physical activity meant to burn calories. If I had enough perseverance I would probably spend an hour or two on my treadmill everyday (but since its manual, I hate it.)

Yeah, so I’m a runner. I run from everything that remotely frightens me in real life as well. especially feelings... other people’s and my own. I am emotion-o-phobic. The closest I’ve come to appreciating love is in books, movies or in real life, that of my family’s. The rest I am still allergic to. A guy who used to be in school with me once commented (he said and I quote) : What the hell is wrong with you? Why do you break out in hives every time I tell you I like you?
Sorry mate. It wasn’t you. It was me.

It still is me. Anything that remotely resembles emotions, commitment and the whole affair (no pun intended), I break out into a sweat and look for the nearest exit. If someone catches my fancy, the most I’ll do is talk to him and maybe flirt a little (or a lot... :) I am human, you know) but as soon as there is anything resembling an involvement looming on the horizon, I’ll be having mini-heart attacks. Then watch me convince him and myself that there isn’t anything between us.

I don’t know what the deal with me is ok (Stop giving me/my blog dirty looks!)
Maybe it’s a congenital defect, or perhaps a complex syndrome induced due to Substance abuse (I had insane amounts of Coke and Channa Chat in school I admit….
*guilty, looking down on the floor*) or maybe I am just plain crazy.

Whatever, it is, here I am, still a runner. Maybe I should take off my trainers for a while, see how it feels to sit in one place for longer than 10 minutes. Tried doing that once though. Then automatically thought about the possibility of getting hurt or worst, not getting hurt, actually committing to that person and planning a whole life. That was when I reached out for my shoes again and got out of the door as quick as I could.

For those of you still wondering about my previous “looking for the perfect guy” posts, in my defense I come up with I’m confused. Yeah I want a nice guy, humor and the whole package, but I cant stop running as soon as someone even a little like that approaches.
I think I have unsettled issues.
I think I need to see a therapist.