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Tuesday, 9 September 2014

Dear Reader, will it surprise you if I told you that I have recently become addicted to going to the Gym?However, I loathe this particular addiction, unlike my addiction to books. I suppose that after going on and on about the beauty of nature and the outdoors, you are sure to have deduced that I love the outdoors. However, it is rather difficult for anyone to go for a nice run when it is pouring, courtesy the 'Great Indian Monsoon'.

I crave the sense of normalcy of working-out on a regular basis. I really like running and I find that it lends coherence to my otherwise turbulent inner dialogue. I also like the fresh air and sense of achievement that only a nice long run can provide.

I must admit, that I do find these things whilst working out in a gym . However, at the risk of courting the wrath of all you serious gym aficionados..... I confess that I hate running on a treadmill. I feel absolutely no sense of achievement.

In a philosophical sense, I must explain that my love for running stems from my desire to lead a life full of movement. I want to go further than everyone I know, explore new avenues as opposed to doing all the work, going through major exertions yet staying put; quite akin to running on a treadmill; where you run but don't go anywhere.

So, I confess that despite the wonderfully plush surroundings and swanky equipment, the gym still hasn't managed to lure me away from the siren call of the asphalt on the open road.

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