"Oh, and have you heard about the series of races that we're having? It's a cup." D informed me eagerly, while helping me to haul my heavy luggage up the three floors to her apartment in the attic.

Once again I marveled and just how narrow this staircase was, with barely enough room for one person carrying a suitcase.

"Really?" I panted. Maybe I should pack less in the future...

"Yes." D, who had taken my lighter bag, called down from the entrance to her apartment. "There are two a day: a sprint, followed by a longer one. Today we shall have a two hundred meter sprint, followed by a two-mile race. But the longest will be a seven hundred meter sprint and seven miles."

"Oh." I quickly calculated the distance in my mind. About eleven kilometers. More than I had ever run before.

Not to speak of the conditions. They had been nowhere near those present in New York at that time: about thirty degrees heat and a humidity so pronounced, one was expecting to see fish swimming by in the air at any moment.

I therefore immediately discarded the idea of joining any of the races.

D held the entrance door open for me to pass through. "And, once you start in the tournament, you cannot miss a race to be able to continue competing.

That definitely settled it even more.

"You know, I am really not in the shape to participate," I told her while taking off my shoes and placing them neatly beside hers.

"Of course, you don't have to." She shrugged. "I am not fit enough to join, myself. But I could take you to where the races are taking place this afternoon." D's voice sounded from the small kitchen, where she was busy preparing something to drink for both of us. "Guru will be there, as well."

"Yes, please." Being already familiar with the place, I dragged my luggage into the small room that served at D's working and storage space.

I sat up my shrine on a low shelf, placed my mat and sleeping bag on the floor and opened my suitcase. It would serve as my makeshift cupboard for my stay in New York.

Having enjoyed a refreshing drink and after having changed into a T-shirt, sort trousers and running shoes, D took me to a high school track in the vicinity of the tennis court.

Just walking the ten minutes it took us to get to the place, had me sweating profusely, even though it was already around six pm. The climate in New York was something else! It reminded me a bit of my Asian journey.

How on earth was anybody supposed to run in that kind of humid heat?

When we arrived at the track, it was buzzing with activity. Disciples everywhere – almost all of them in running outfits – were milling about, stretching, chatting or playing with their watches.

Some had made themselves comfortable on the grass, along the two ribbons that had been strung between the wall and the track.

Upon looking closer, I discovered that Guru was sitting on a simple, blue metal chair in the centre of the space they created. He appeared to be meditating, but every now and then his eyes would sweep the whole area or he would briefly talk to one of the disciples that had approached him.

Since standing gets a bit tedious after a while, I also set down on the grass. Unfortunately, D had had to go back to work, therefore I did not have her to keep me company.

On the other hand, with so many people around, I was not too concerned of getting lost or lonely.

A few minutes after I had arrived, a few girls wearing official looking race numbers, assembled at the (from my vantage point) far side of the track.

"The two hundred meter dash for the girls is first," a petite, blond girl sitting beside me explained.

"Ah."

I glanced at Guru, who was sitting against the wall on my right, clearly overseeing the finish line.

Leaning forward in his chair, he appeared very interested in the proceedings. A wide-shouldered boy holding a clipboard stood next to him and the two were conversing with serious expressions on their faces.

A moment later, the boy left hurrying towards the start. He said something to another boy, who nodded.

A cackling sound, followed by a booming voice announcing the first heat of the two hundred meter dash for girls.

The happy excitement that permeated the whole area seemed to rise a few notches.

Even my heart started beating faster.

And I was not even competing!

"On your marks,"

People everywhere rose quickly from their perches on the grass and approached the clay track.

"Get set. Go!"

The last word was almost drowned out by something that sounded like a whiplash.

A starting gun, I noticed absentmindedly, while watching the slim girls dart along their lanes amongst enthusiastic cheering from the crowd.

Just before they were finishing, I glanced at Guru.

Who was sitting a bit lunched over, holding a – what I assumed must have been a stopwatch – in his hand. His expression serious, he obviously took great interest in what was happening.

As soon as the first girl had passed the finish line, Guru clicked some button on his watch and looked up to smile at the girl, who had bowed to him immediately after having crossed the line.

Wow. That had been fast!

The more I watched the all those runners compete (first the girls and then the boys), the more inspired I became to also try.

It did not look too difficult... And each race – even the following two miles' ones – appeared to be over quite quickly.

Of course, I should have known: looks can deceiving!

Besides, the races scheduled for the next day – the ones that I had just decided to join – were not of the short variety.

Oh, no.

I had just decided, out of my own free will and with my heat-addled mind – to run a seven hundred meter dash, followed by a seven-mile race!

In the obnoxious New York summer heat.

At almost one hundred per cent humidity. (In fact, going home after the evening function later that night, I witnessed: fog! At nearly 25 degrees Celsius! for the first time in my life.

Prior to that experience, I had not even known that such a phenomenon existed.

But – owing to my youthful enthusiasm – I was not really concerned. Not even when I did the math (transverting miles into kilometers) and realized that I had never even run that far before.

Or that the seven hundred meters were almost half of my daily running routine at home.

Yes, I had done astounding eight kilometers once. But that had been at night. (My preferred running time, because my mind doesn't complain as much. Maybe, because you can't see too far?)

And at decent, cool temperatures.

And while Anni as my companion, keeping me entertained by talking to me about spiritual and philosophical topics.

And... we had not even planned on running that far. It had happened naturally.

All elements that were going to be missing the next day.

All of which downed on me when I woke up.

From that moment in the morning, my heart wouldn't stop beating faster than usual.

A lot faster, actually.

I tied my utmost to forget about my morning doom during the rest of the day.

Quite unsuccessfully.

What on earth had I signed up for, and why?

You might wonder the same thing.

After all, I have not stated anywhere that I had actually signed up for anything.

Well, that's because I hadn't.

You might therefore wonder next, what on earth I would feel so panicky about. After all, I was not obliged to do anything.

Which would be true.

Technically, I was not in any way, shape or form, bound.

Technically.

Unfortunately, there was this rather pesky, relentless inner voice that simply insisted that I had to at least try.

After all, there was still the option of walking. And I was definitely able to do that! After all, I had climbed countless mountains with my parents, when I had been a child.

Not enthusiastically, granted, but still.

We had often hiked for eight hours straight. With only a short lunch-break at the peak.

In any case, walking should not pose a problem.

Right.

Then why was I so nervous?

I honestly could not even have said. But my emotions made me feel that I was on my way to the gallows.

Which only goes to show that emotions are not exactly our rational part.

In any case, it's safe to say that my meditation at the tennis court that day locked a certain... depth.

When the races finally approached , I felt week all over, my face probably held a green tinge and I seriously doubted my sanity.

Even Guru's appearance at the track did not improve my nerves.

If anything, it made it worse.

Because this meant that the start of the races was fast approaching.

Very fast.

A few minutes later, the starting gun for my heat had already boomed and I was speeding around the track as one of six female runners.

Well, to be honest, the others were speeding and I was trying desperately to keep my legs moving. And to defend my position as the last runner. (Which probably won't surprise anyone here.)

As a two-mile races veteran, I had decided to not dash away at full speed right from the beginning, because I knew from experience that I would not be able to survive such a speed for long.

But I had not expected to find myself so far behind the rest of the group after only two hundred meters!

Realizing that there was enough strength in my legs to speed up a little bit – after having conquered the initial bout of nausea that had threatened to overcome me as soon as I had started moving – I did just that.

While at the same time – to my greatest surprise – the other runners appeared to do the opposite: they were slowing down! I briefly glanced at Guru, who we passed at the three hundred meter mark and at the finish. A stopwatch in his hand, he watched us struggling with a serious expression.

After about four hundred meters, I croaked "Track!" for the first time, to warn a girl about my approach and ask her to let me pass. (Something that I had learned the prior day by watching the races.)

Unfortunately, the girl approached to not have heard me. Which was not surprising, since I don't have the strongest voice at the best of times. And that moment definitely did not count as one of the 'best of times'.

In the end, I managed to get the message through and I was one place up.

The same thing happened a few more times and suddenly I was finishing.

First!

I had caught up with the last girl a few meters before the line, the competitive streak within me forcing me to use up my last reserves.

As a consequence, I almost threw up afterwards.

But – hey – I had won a race.

Or rather: a heat.

But still.

For the first time!

Of course, in the end, the times of all the participants were compared and I think I ended up on seventh place.

Which did not mean much. Because, as I have started prior, all the races were part of a cup.

In any case, I felt that I had accomplished enough for that day. Unfortunately, that little bit of running had really just been a teaser. The true torture lay still ahead of me.

Seven miles.

After those seven hundred meters!

Again, I had to fight a bout of nausea at the thought. how on earth was I supposed to survive...?

Sweat was pouring down my body from having pushed so hard, I felt weak and on the verge of a headache.

Well, I can always walk.

For the seven miles, all the girls started at the same time. But not on the four hundred meter track. For the long races, we moved to a kind of dirt path that looped through the grassy area we were occupying and which held the track in its middle.

Which was fine with me. More people meant less exposure of the single runner. Like me.

I adjusted my trusted sweatband. At least, I did not have to try and sprint any more. I was not suicidal, after all.

On my third lap, I had managed to shake off the heaviness of my legs, my breath had evened out and my mind was busy watching everything that left my peripheral field of vision on my left and right simultaneously. (A trick that I had developed that kept my mind from concentration on anything else. Like pain and any other discomfort in my body. It also gave me the sensation of floating, while the landscape was being pulled past me.)

"Hi. You seem to run at my speed. Would you want to be my running partner? A voice behind me suddenly pulled me out of my concentration.

A quick glance to my left and right confirmed that no other runner was close and that the voice was actually talking to me.

A few light steps later and its owner appeared on my left side: a petite, pretty girl with medium-length blonde hair.

"Yes, of course. Nice," I replied to her question, delighted to have some distraction and someone to talk to!

And talk we did. About God and the world (quite literally.).

For about five miles. After which I couldn't go on any more and had to finally start walking.

Nilima, which turned out to be the name of my delightful new running companion, continued at the same pace, while I slowed down considerably.

But I did not mind walking. It gave me more time to look at Guru, who was still following the race intently with his eyes half closed.

What I did mind, however, was the enormous pressure on my forehead. Which was not the sign of a headache, but rather of a very active third eye.

The area slightly above my nose seemed to have turned a disc about ten centimeters in diameter and two centimeter high. It tingled and felt very active.

At the same time, I had the distinct impression that something – or rather: someone – prevented it from doing more than. Like opening.

My intense concentration that had enabled me to run, must have kind of activated the third eye at the same time.

But, fortunately, it was not allowed to open.

"Please, Guru," I fervently prayed while walking, "please don't allow it to open."

Again, I was not really sure why my resistance against that happening was so pronounced. After all, being able to see things beyond the ordinary the past, the future, thoughts or emotions – is considered to be quite desirable by many.

Well, I was not one of those. I had the distinctive impression that it would only had to disaster. And that I somehow knew this firsthand. Although maybe not from this incarnation.

Besides: imagine being able to perceive others' peoples' thoughts and emotion. Now imagine what kind of thoughts and emotions circulate in most people. And what kind of form they would take if made visible.

See my point?

But, thanks to Guru, I did not really have to worry about any of it. I guess that Guru was only too happy to keep my third eye closed.

At the end of the race, however, I was confronted with a different kind of problem: I really had trouble walking!

My knees had become rather stiff and it took me ages to get home. Where I was faced with another, almost insurmountable challenge: these flights of stairs!

Which proved even more difficult the next morning, when I had to climb those down.

At the court, I was happy that I was going to be able to just sit and watch Guru playing tennis.

I even managed to obtain a seat in the shade, adjacent to the side of the court where his little hut stood.

In spite of last day's exertion, I felt well rested and wide-awake.

... until Guru started hitting the first ball.

Within a few minutes, sleepiness descended upon me like a blanket, pulling my consciousness to the very edge of the dream world. But no further.

Watching Guru play with half closed eyes, I tried my best to wake up fully, again.

But I didn't manage to, for some reason.

Instead, my awareness kept bouncing in between these two subtle borders of consciousness, separating sleep from wakefulness.

I had not even known that a space existed in between those two states of consciousness.

But there I was, not quite asleep, but not fully awake, either.

My upright body had completely relaxed into the air cushion I was sitting on and the only part of me moving were my eyeballs, as they were following the trajectory of the tennis ball.

Oh, and I felt peaceful.

Really peaceful.

Unfortunately, I had to follow the call of nature at some point, which forced me to leave my comfortable perch and the sanctuary of the tennis court.

My mind blissfully silent, I awkwardly limped towards 'Annam Brahma', the restaurant that fed and provided us with the facilities I was in dire need of. On my way, I was quite unexpectedly and viciously hit by a juvenile passer-by.

As one of six rowdy teenagers, he obviously thought that I was being in his way and so he used his elbow to jab me into the ribs as he passed me. He also swore at me. Even though hewas hurting me.

Under normal circumstances, I would have rebelled. At least inwardly. Or made a snarky comment.

At the very least, I would have tried to calm down by telling myself that the poor boy was obviously troubled. That I would not want to be in his shoes and that I fortunately did not have to.

Only, none of that went through my mind.

What actually went through my mind, was: 'Oh.'

Only 'Oh' and nothing else.

Which I noticed, of course and which gave me a lot of joy. Because it highlighted the peace that I was experiencing, even more.

Hi everybody!

Long time no see. Which is entirely my fault, since I've been absent for quite some time. :( 

But sometimes life happens. And sometimes even with a vengeance. And I can't promise that I won't disappear again, but I shall try not to. Especially, since I've pre-written about two small books worth of stories, which I only need to type and post. :)

Well, we'll see :)

Thanks to everyone who has not given up on this book and happy reading!