Never say never!

I guess a felicitation note is due for my partner in crime. This post is dedicated to his tenacious path to glory, paved with shrapnels of thorns, aches, pains, strains, and even fractures.

I met SK at a dinner party of a mutual acquaintance. That was more than 10 years ago. After the usual pleasantries, our conversation went to recreational running. He was intrigued that I ran, which, at that time, felt, to him, like a marathon. In reality, it was a mere 10km.

Fast forward, we, and a few friends, became weekend warriors. From 10, the distance becomes longer and longer. Then someone came up with the idea of doing the full monty, not the British type but the Phillipedes type - the crowning glory of running - a full marathon, the whole 42.195km of them.

When SK puts his mind to something, he puts his whole soul into the shebang. He would want to know all the nitty-gritty of the basics. He would not want any stone unturned to the extent of obsessiveness. Just like that, all the research landed his name in the annals of 1% of the world population that completed a full marathon.

Then some gang members with restless leg syndrome started toying with the idea of cycling. Like the children of Hamelin, everyone just played to the tune of the Piped Piper. So cycling it was. What started as an easy, relaxing 30km weekend ride morphed into gruelling 1000m climbs and diabolical six-hour rides in the heat of the tropical high noon. Then came the out-of-state and international rides. During one of those practices, SK received his badge of honour. He was christened a true cyclist after sustaining a clavicular fracture. He went on fine-tuning into the subtleties of road cycling until he became restless again. Perhaps, he wanted to realise his deep inner desire to make it to the 0.1% category of the population.

I guess that was when the talk of swimming started floating (pun unintended). After having two near-death experiences in the domain of Neptune, yours truly gave a pass. I tried to venture into playing a musical instrument instead. That is another story for another day.

Many group members put one foot into the water, but only SK, with his compulsive desire to beat the waves and re-wire his survival instincts to connect with prehistoric ancestors; from a non-swimmer, he grew fins to fight the choppy waves of an open sea.

This has been the story of SK's journey thus far. I can bet my bottom dollar that it is, by no means, the end of it all. He completed his Iron Man Competition. The echoes of SK's whining, grumbling and cursing still reverberate in everyone's ears. Do not be fooled. Like a parturient mother who screams, yells and pledges never to do it again but sheepishly presents at her Obstetrician's office before the baby can walk, with yet another pregnancy, be forewarned. SK may turn up again with another crazy venture.

Congratulations, my friend! Keep the flame aglow and keep the fire burning. Cheers!

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