This was the first thought that occurred to me last Sunday morning, the 100th day of running for the 2019 edition of the 100daysofrunning challenge. I had gone past my target of 512 kms on the 99th day. So, I ran the 100th day at peace. I could not comprehend my own thoughts on that day. Is it a good thing to complete a target comfortably and feel empty on the finish line, or is it a good thing to keep the target in sight till the end and feel the finishing touch right at the last moment? Actually, I could've done 550 if I wanted to. I had the days and I had fuel left in me. But 512 sounded fine enough. On retrospect, I could not help wondering that I have felt the same way almost always, all along my life. I'm a procrastinator.. big time! But I somehow manage to finish things on time, in the end. Things have worked just fine, as long as it is on time. What starts to occupy my mind thereafter is 'now what'.
I don't remember the exact moment when, many years ago, in a flash, I felt living up to 50 would be a decent enough life. It's a brief memory, but one that is very deeply ingrained. I vaguely remember my thoughts on half-life that I penned down at 25. I used to write a lot then. A lot of poetry (thank God I've taken out most of them from here), a lot of self-discovered philosophical scribblings. I read quite a bit too - some Russell, some Nietzsche, some Somerset Maugham, some fiction. All of this in the middle of my MBA, with a lot of time still left for family, my first nephew, friends and college life. Nine years later, I'm a changed man, only with the longings of what all I could have done in 9 long years since. There's been a constant hunger for leading a different life. But it's not an insatiable one. Every 30 days, the hunger is fed with salary, and there's a good week's sleep. Then the hunger returns the next week to remain for the further three, and then it's satiated again. This for the last 9 years. Man, what a life!
Now I'm caught in a conundrum between the young and the old. 34 is what? Young or old? At my workplace, I see both ends of the spectrum. In the industry I'm in, 25 is a good start for a management graduate from a prestigious B-school, with no student loans, to call her/himself a consultant (now whatever the hell that means.. many in my encounter have been just dumb! We haven't needed a lot of consulting from our own consultants!). And I see the potential they could reach in 10 years, only if they were sincere and ambitious enough (which is what their prestigious B-school is supposed to teach them!). On the other end, I see 45-somethings, the few friendly and open types, lament about what they could do if they were 34 and had 10 more years to be where they are now, without their many EMIs, of course!
You see, my problem is not wanting to be 25 now again or let the years pass by to when I'm 45, satiated by salary till then, and then start longing for 35! The point is to find a way out of the mess now. I could get out, any moment. Someday soon I would. My problem is passion. I don't have just one, but many, and so I don't have one! A man passionate about many things is not passionate about one thing! Or can he be? Too many passions arise from too much freedom. For the most part, I have been responsible with most of my freedom, and that's taken me on a proper and safe journey with many fellow travellers. But it's not adventurous! It's the little extra freedom that provides for eccentricities that are adventurous and are hard to resist. That's what goes on in my head all the time - which of these eccentric passions to choose and which adventure to take. And if I end up with one, how long it will be before the next one raises its head? Shouldn't life be either one great adventure or many little ones, instead of just proper and safe?
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