The Airport

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A meeting place where hundreds of souls drift in and out, welcoming tired feet and weary body from long distances. Where warm hugs are given and received, and stories of colourful journeys flow

A farewell place where the promise of a safe return is met with tears and hopefulness. Goodbyes are temporary until the journey takes them home again.

The dizzying merry-go-round of interesting looking parcels calling for their owners. Tall and slender figures impeccably dressed in uniform hurries along. Each one dragging their big lunch boxes on wheels, one wonders where these elegant beings are headed next.

To pass time, a walk towards the shops is both satisfying and dangerous. The commercial pull of goods without tax is enough to make a person spend all their hard earned cash. Beautifully packaged items line the shelves, boasting of good deals to be had – enticing all the senses. Take caution, such excess costs more than a pretty penny.

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Amidst the organized chaos, giant metal birds with little glass pinholes and tails, uniquely adorned with bright, eye-catching symbols. Transporting itty bitty lives packed inside rows and rows of semi comfortable reclining seats. Sprinting down colourful runways, these giants allow humans to defy what was once impossible.

Among the crowd, there she stood. An excited observer, taking it all in, mesmerized by the continuous cycle that this place holds. Overhead, a crackly voice breaks her spell, “passengers for flight AF351 Toronto to Paris, please get your boarding passes ready”. The girl quickly grabs her passport and her lover; hand in hand they walk towards the direction of their next adventure.

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The Last Five Minutes

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That remaining five minutes on the treadmill is always the most excruciating for me. I push myself to keep running, my heart beating so fast I can’t keep up, my lungs in the verge of bursting. I remind myself as I glance at the machine’s display that “it’s the last five minutes, you’ve been at this for the past forty-five minutes you can certainly finish the rest”, but then I look back at the time display and only 30secs have passed. Quickly, agony comes and I think, why am I torturing myself like this? Why can’t I just stop this dreaded machine instead of letting it run me down? Just push the stop button, it’ll all be over.

My eyes shift towards a picture of a fit model doing some squats and I remove my hand from the stop button. Maybe this is why I keep a fitness magazine beside me when I run. Distract myself, keep going, keep pushing. Meanwhile, my legs feel like they weigh a hundred pounds each. While this battle in my head is going on you’d think five minutes have passed…wrong, it’s only been two mins T_T I die a little more inside.

This have always been the case with me and running in the treadmill. It’s a love-hate relationship with a machine that tortures me so and yet allows me to consume as much food as I want as long as I don’t forget to get back on.

So what do I do to get out of such a dire situation? I’ve found myself an effective distraction method

Let’s see: in the mornings where I’ve hit the snooze button one too many times and am running late, I take the fastest shower I never think possible-five minutes. Some nights I like to glam myself up a bit more, I put on false eyelashes and by the time I’ve run out of patience and have grown frustrated, the lashes are perfectly in place and five minutes have passed. On a good morning, my coffee run usually takes me five fantastic minutes in the drive through. Scrolling through my newsfeed takes five minutes (sadly, even more so than that sometimes), heating up my car takes five minutes. Doing the dishes I’ve left in the sink for a week takes me a measly five minutes. By the time you finish reading this article it will probably be about five mins. of your time (thank you very much btw^^) In fact, while I kept doing this I found a lot of things that I normally do which takes me five minutes.

Next thing I know, the beeping of the machine distracts my thoughts. I look at the display and that’s it, the last five minutes are over. I slowly pick up my tired, wobbly legs and I make my way into the nearest bench I can find to collapse in. Once again, I survived another battle with the treadmill.

On to reflection, If I had given up in that last five minutes, I would have defeated myself out of the wonderful feeling of overcoming something difficult and gaining a sense of strength from that (not forgetting about losing those extra calories of course). If I had given up in that last five minutes, the next time I face the machine again, I might just give up after fifteen minutes. It will only get easier for me, easier to give up on the most difficult things just because it doesn’t feel comfortable, because it is easy to abandon and pick up next time. If this attitude continue to convey in how I live my life, what would life be like? Sometimes, it takes that last five minutes.

You are stronger than you think my dear ❤