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Jack Kerouac

the only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars

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THE SEA TRIALS OF AN UNFORTUNATE SAILOR

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Hubby recently joined a 50 km (31.25 mi) run and I went as support. Typhoon Hagupit was expected within the day but the organizer declared that it was a “rain or shine” event so a few minutes from their 4 o’clock gunstart on that chilly, windy morning, sixty-three determined ultramarathoners eagerly listened to instructions.

“This is a no-fuss run:  No freebies, no media, no gimmicks. Just plain running.” I watched with amusement when the participants cheered to that. “They must really just love running,” I smiled to myself, admiring their passion. And run they did and at the end, they celebrated well, in their own no-fuss kind of way.

Now that’s how I felt when I went to watch an Arnis tournament recently.

The participants competed fiercely such that one lady who passed by asked how much the cash prize was. When I answered that there was none and that…