Yesterday, the way they contorted and distorted their faces and bodies, their expressions straddling the grotesque and the tragic comic, their bodies moving in spasmodic directions, it reminded me of Francis Bacon’s portraits and work. Not that the reference could be exactly true because those adjectives didn’t apply neatly to Bacon’s art.
The three everyday imperfect bodies roamed the large stage for just under an hour with near constant frenetic, frenzied movement. Watching a contemporary dance performance with a completely untrained and novice eye; for me it could only be seen for what I observed – its capability to hold attention, my admiration of their stamina, sweat drenched bodies, streams of wet treads on the black marley when they writhed on the floor, and the thumping music that varied from sci-fi to industrial.
There was a scene where the three were against a black wall, jerky movements pulling and pushing in different directions, limbs both fluid and robotic – it worked – worked for me – as if fighting and accepting – each other – their own self – at the same time.
I thought about that when I was on the treadmill, eager to finish the short run and the quick workout after.
These days, I felt hungry quickly. Within a few hours of any meal, I was hungry again. I had dark chocolate with breakfast for the first time.
Perhaps because the training seems to have intensified since marathon season is upon us, or it is the exceptional humidity (93% today) – or both. I need to drop a couple of kilos but with this kind of eating, I wasn’t sure about that. At the same time, I couldn’t afford in the least to be energy deficient.
I would need to accept my own paradox. I thought about this after I finished a giant second lunch of dosas (yes two), idli, papad and dahi vada. Oh well. It was just delicious.
Writing about Running 