Dopamine boots

Running zippily along the beach with gusts of wind coming from the sea hitting the left half of your body as you pass up hordes of pedestrians, runners, skaters, kids, couples, dogs and occasional live barbecue pits that smack of charred meat and burnt coal. In your front is a bunch of buildings huddled into a pack, the most prominent being Marina Bay Sands. Your feet touch the ground for a split second to haul your body forward. You feel light, you skim over the paved track, and you know no one around is running faster than you. With each stride you feel the kick - it's so obvious.

You stand facing the sea, the wind is now hitting your face. The last thirty seconds were very painful and you stopped with practically no air left in your lungs. Stopping gives you an instant relief. You are panting heavily, taking in as much air as you can. Every inhalation relaxes you, the vibes are utterly calm. Your senses are more awakened now. Serotonin levels are high. You can clearly hear voices of people laughing somewhere far away. The white noise starts to break up into snippets of meaningful chatter. The puffs of wind amplify the tingling sensation of that sweat drop trickling down your temple. Your mind is blank. You feel the calm. You feel peace. You feel powerful. You look at a couple sitting on a bench to your side. You feel lonely. But the domineering feeling of relief and a heightened sense of awakening overcomes your hormonal urges. You feel independent. You feel powerful. You feel peace. Freedom. Calm. Strength.

Your hands are moving swiftly. The veins on your shoulders have popped out as they are pumping more and more blood. The song playing in the background was supposed to spur you up but you are no longer listening to it. You are focused. You feel very very alive. You are counting. As you cross the mark of fifty, you arch your back to rest your shoulders. Then straighten out again and do twenty to thirty more. Often I feel push-ups give me a greater kick than running. 

You have crossed the mark of twenty effortlessly; by thirty you can feel the lactic acid burning your muscles. After thirty four you arch your back to relax them, and then do six more. It is dark in the room, and voices from the oracular Pelince Pee have created a haunting tone which has subdued all your lingering thoughts. Your hands have gone numb by now, and all you can feel now is the grinding effort to lift yourself up. Each lift gives you a feeling of intense satisfaction and relaxation. You stop after the mark of fifty, get up, look into the mirror. In the eerie darkness, you can see your pumped up veins glowing on arms covered with sweat that gives them a glossy look. You felt a sense of achievement. You have done fifty diamond push-ups.

You squat, rest your palms on the floor at shoulder width. You tuck in your body and lift your legs off the floor. Your body is entirely on your arms now with your elbow bent at a ninety degree angle. You maintain that pose for about five seconds and stand up again. You realize what you have done is not a very easy feat. You feel happy. Really happy. 

The day ends.

You go to bed, you wake up, wash up and catch a bus. Standing in a crowd, you realize you are no one. You are inferior to almost everyone. Your ineptitude for social skills is unbeatable, your awkward mannerisms are filthy. Your presence is incongruous with the sophisticated structure of society. Your diffidence on social front is as unwarranted as your chain of negative thoughts and utter lack of self respect. You have absolutely no skills of any type that make you unique. You work in a dingy office on a grimy desk with plebeian skills on something opaque whose purpose is lost in the uproar of words coming from corporate big-guns underscoring the importance of each trivial task. And then you realize you suck at that plebeian work too. And you suck in socializing. No one considers you worth having as a friend or a partner. You feel powerless. You feel lost. You plug in those headphones to listen to your favorite songs to survive the trip to home or read some book that engages you. You reach home, change your clothes, put on your shoes and go running. Dopamine and endorphin kick in again.