I can't believe. Suicide weekend, half of the suicide activity was cancelled due to we got there a lil late. So only the 11km marathon thing was left.
I ran with my sister at first, then she was breathless too soon. So I got solo again. Everyone was so energetic at first. Then the tracks starting to become mountain road, means no more running. Mountain track was terribly hard to run. I tried, almost broke my ankle. It was confirmed swollen by the future awesome physiotherapist. Left and right, I'm fucked.
Mountain track, can you imagine? Steep as fuck plus it rained, plus it's fucking more than 45 degrees steep. And the fucking moss. You can't even speed up. I took 1hr 40 mins to finish this. Ankle survived, then miloooo. Actually slightly satisfying. I didn't run for a week but managed to survive.
It's a sad weekend.
Mood's still affected by him. I can't believe it even happened in the car. I have no where to hide. I'm sad how he spoke to me, man. I'm sad seeing him back to jungle. I miss him like crazy. No last words.
He was really really awesome. I fucked up all fucking time.
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