I had plans to post something about my run from last Thursday today because, after feeling less than stellar for most of the weekend, I’m finally feeling okay. The problem was that I got sidetracked by DOS emulators and abandonware and ended up
wasting spending the evening playing my favourite video games from when I was a kid (Micro Machines 2! Xenon II! Theme Hospital!). The whole blog post + gym evening plan was replaced with retro gaming + burgers + more retro gaming and so, here we are right now. I’ve warned you before that this is not a healthy living blog. And no, you can’t have your money back.
But where was I going with this? Oh, right. Last Thursday.
I’ll save you from looking it up – last Thursday was April 25th. April 25th is one of my favourite days of the year. It’s so so good it’s actually a public holiday both in Portugal and in New Zealand (and Australia), which means I get to be home and watch midweek TV (which always gives me a new sense of appreciation for my job) and I get to Skype family back home because they get a day off too, those lucky things.
It’s a day off in both countries for different reasons, though. I’ll explain: New Zealand celebrates ANZAC day, a day which commemorates all Australian and New Zealand soldiers who fought in World War II. Portugal celebrates the carnation revolution, the end of a dictatorship regime that lasted for 40 years and left some pretty big scars in the country.
My grandparents grew up in a dictatorship. We’re talking real dictatorship, not just a stricter-than-average government. These are not distant relatives I’m talking about either, this is the lady who taught me to tie my shoelaces and the man that, to this day, will slice bread for me so I don’t accidentally cut myself. They’re grandma and grandpa, who I talk to every week, who I grew up with. They weren’t allowed to speak their minds. Even my mum and dad lived a few years in that regime (although my dad’s only memory of the revolution is being sent home from school early). In 1974, after 40 years of oppression, everything changed and, every year, on April 25th, my country celebrates that, regardless of how shitty the economy and everything else is there at the moment (and, let me tell you, it’s pretty shitty). No other holiday is as important as this one (no, not even Pie Day) because when you have decades of not being free, you learn to appreciate your freedom.
Two things about this previous paragraph: it proves that you can learn stuff on Super Generic Girl (bet you didn’t expect that) and it serves as an explanation as to why my run on Thursday was so good.
I headed to the bush early in the morning. It wasn’t even properly planned, but more of a “meh, let’s wake up and see what the day is like” kind of thing. There weren’t many people out on the trail yet so it was really nice and quiet for the first few kilometers. Running that trail gave me a chance to reflect on how we are so used to taking our freedom for granted, like it’s no big deal. That run was the best way I could think of to celebrate my freedom that morning. I mean, holyfreakingmothernature, look at the photos on this post. This is the halfway mark of my run on Sunday. If you don’t think this is the perfect spot to reflect on freedom or whatever else you feel like reflecting on, then we’re just going to have to agree to disagree, and you’re just going to have to be wrong.
The run also gave me a good excuse to go home and nap for the rest of the afternoon, which is pretty much the smartest and most logical way to spend a public holiday. Write that down too, that’s the second thing you’ve learned here today.
I’m all out of insightful stuff to say now. I’ve got some Jones in the Fast Lane to play. I swear I’ll go the gym tomorrow. Maybe.