i’m running. blood-sugar slightly raised by fruit I devoured while trying to keep up the pace. Can’t stop, nothing can stop me. I’m running for release, and don’t hear nor see Oslo waking up (or saying goodnight) around me. A slightly drunk guy calls after me: ‘Are you all right’? I never stop to answer, just take another bite of my hotel-prepared breakfast without caring about my just-awake morning-face or unkempt hair. Let them think whatever they want.
The running takes me nearer to my target, but just when I think I found it, I have to halt since the main door has closed for the night. Silently cursing this unwelcome wall on my trail and not looking at the clock to keep from panicking, I run into a hotel nearby (hotel Plaza, not exactly dressed for luxury with my messy hair and face). The woman inside makes a good job pretending that running, pear-eating maniacs is nothing out of the ordinary at 03:45, and calmly gives me new directions to follow. I gobble down more breakfast while nodding thankfully and feel new energy soaring. Again I’m on the run, not from anything, but towards something. The future. Unknown and exciting. Even if I’ve gotten just 5 hours of sleep, have bad running shoes and have a long journey ahead for me, my mood is good. I woke up to an email from my unknown friend, saying that she looked forward to finally meet me. I do too, and that keeps my tempo up, so that when I finally arrive at the airport-bus, 3 minutes before time, I mentally high five myself for the good work. The bus is unusually full, but with bold self-confidence I ask a man occupying two seat if I can sit in one of them, and press my existence firmly next to him.
I’m on my way, and I can`t wait to see her.