Long Jump. There is nothing to it, right? Just running down a lane before leaping off a board and landing in a pile of sand, right? I beg to differ. Like any other sport, Long Jump too has its' technicalities. Besides, if it ever was that easy, I would most probably be a record holder now for the event, but I am not, and neither is it that simple. In Long Jump, we sprint down a rubberized runway, which is just like any other ordinary running track, and jump as far as we can from a wooden board that is built level to the runway before landing into a pit filled with finely ground gravel or, more commonly, sand. If we start the jump with any part of our foot past the foul line, it is considered a foul and the distance jumped is not recorded. This is aided by a layer of Plasticine or clay which is placed immediately after the board to detect any fouls. In addition, there is also an official that will make the determination. We can start the jump from anywhere behind the foul line, but here is the catch. The distance measured will always be perpendicular to the foul line to the nearest break in the sand caused by any part of the body or uniform. So, it is always better to get as close to the foul line as possible. We are allowed to place two marks along the side of the runway so that it can help us jump accurately. Remember that layer of Plasticine I mentioned? Well, it is not always present. The runway might be a different surface or we can start our jump from a painted or taped mark on the runway. And that is Long Jump for you, well, the tip of the iceberg, anyway.
I walked down the runway, counting each step in my head as I measured my starting point from the foul line. "78... 79... 80... 81..." At that point, I turned around and faced the sand pit. I closed my eyes, slowing my breathing down to a slow steady rhythm as I felt my racing heart die down to a regular steadfast beat, pushing the knobby hands of adrenaline away as I refused to surrender myself to it. As the sound of my adrenaline-laced blood rushing in my ears died down, I could feel an inner peace spreading out within me as the feel of my heart exploding out of my chest finally evaporated. With one final breath, I opened my eyes and took off for the sand pit, feeling my muscles contracting vigorously as I sprinted as hard as I could down the rubberized runway. Nothing else mattered in the stadium. I ignored the other runners on the track, their skin glistening with their sweat as the Sun shone its' bright rays onto their rippling skin. I ignored those under the shade of the spectators stand, their veins popping out of their bodies as they contort their bodies to various stretches. I ignored everything. I zeroed in on the sand pit. All about you and me, baby.
When I heard my spikes hit the board with a loud thud, I leapt as high as I could, throwing my limbs back as I felt my back arch backwards, going as far as it could as my head strained to keep itself upright, facing up and beyond. I felt the wind brush through my hair, tickling my cheeks as it howled in my ears. When I felt I was at the zenith of my jump, I threw my limbs forwards, projecting myself further out into the sand pit as it rushed up towards me. I felt the impact of landing on the soft sand, jarring my teeth as I squeezed my eyes shut to block out the rising dust and sand. I opened my eyes and slowly turned around, expecting the worst, a few holes on the layer of Plasticine where my spikes had embedded into them. There was nothing worst, or embarrassing, than having an amazing jump but having to be disqualified just because of a few holes.
But there was none, the Plasticine was as flush as ever. That was one hurdle done, it was a qualified jump. But how did I truly fare? I looked down onto the measuring tape hooked up on the sides of the sand pit, my eyes racing through the numbers as they tried to get my distance. "1m... 2m... 3m..." There it was, 6.45m. I instantly felt my shoulders straighten, feeling an entire weight being lifted off them as a smile slowly stretched across my face. Not only had I managed a qualified jump, but I had succeeded in scoring a fairly decent distance too. In any case, it was my personal best, and I felt extremely proud of myself. Never had I managed to jump beyond 6m and to have scored beyond my expectations was one of my greatest moments. I did a few more jumps and ended my workout session.
I had a long walk home and no company, but I usually lone it anyway. Do not ask why, I do not have a fixed answer for it. But if I had to give one, I would say that I actually find it therapeutic, to be able to dissociate myself from the harsh cruel reality as I escaped into my own fantasy or sift through the problems that had been troubling my mind for days and find ways to solve them. Besides, Tyler and I lived three blocks away so it was not a problem, to me at least.
Growing up was never really a bed of roses for me. When I was four years of age, when I was beginning my exploration of the world before me, I lost my Father during the Persian Gulf War, more commonly known as Operation Desert Storm. He died while trying to save his own comrade from being shot at by a hail of bullets. On that day, I had lost my own Father, yet I had no idea what that felt like until time matured me further. I lost a pillar of my strength, but I had gained a guardian angel that had been a hero on Earth, watching me from afar, making sure I was doing fine, just like he had always been doing. But that was only the beginning.
I lost my Mother to breast cancer when I was sixteen and had been living on my own ever since. Ever since then, I had been hardening my emotions, closing them off from the world, hiding my sorrow in the deepest corner of my mind, pushing it all away as I grew more stoic to everything else. I am quite fortunate to be part of a wealthy family but it was not what it seemed to be. From far, people see me as living in my own small world of happiness, but as they got closer, they unexpectedly find all these sadness and sorrow welled up within me. True, I had many servants with me, always by my side, ready to take up any duty I set forth to them as they satisfied my every need, no matter how trivial or ridiculous they were. They would rush off to get my meal or find something I needed in another part of the mansion in the blink of an eye. True, I had many chauffeurs that would gladly bring me to any great locations around Singapore to quench my entertainment thirst. I could go to the Singapore Flyer, the tallest observation wheel in the world as it offers stunning broad views of the city centre and beyond, including the Indonesian islands of Batam and Bintan, as well as Johor, Malaysia. I could go to the National Museum which offers a morsel of history through the wide range of exhibits as well as displays that never ceased to enlighten me with knowledge, no matter how small it was. It was not that I did not appreciate all of these and more, I do. But what good does it do when at the end of the day, I still have a hollow emptiness within me?
Wanting to start anew, I had decided to move to New York to further my studies after my National Service, when I felt things were changing for the better. Throughout my National Service career, I had turned my life around, spending on others instead of myself, giving me a warm sensation that felt so alien, so foreign, even, after all those years living with that cold hollow emptiness within me. It was new. It was refreshing. One day in New York, I was queuing up at Starbucks to get my daily dose of caffeine; venti black coffee, no cream, no sugar, to go. As I waited for my order, I accidentally heard the conversation between the baristas. I swear, accidentally, really. They were talking about one of the newer baristas, and not in the bad sort of way. I listened rapt with attention as I heard his struggle and by the end of it, my order was long forgotten. Instead, I longed to know his name, to meet this hero, to help him through his struggle. More importantly, I was impressed by his perseverance. Never had I met someone of that stature. And that had been the spark that kindled a whole new ride of life.
Time escaped me and I found myself standing before my front door. I unlocked it, stepped inside and could not help but smile at the sight before me. He lay before me on the couch, looking as youthful as ever in his sleep as I heard his soft regular breathing. His silky smooth chocolate brown hair that looked like warm hot cocoa frozen in time, so warm and inviting, stood at odd angles at where he had lain his head, a new look to his regular neat spike on the crown of his head. He has alabaster white skin that showed neither a smudge nor a flaw of imperfection, making him look as though he had been a marble statue in Greece that had life breathed into him by the great Rhoecus himself. He has a Greek nose, perfectly straight with no curves or hook-like shape, boosting his Grecian facade. The best part of his museum worthy face? He has the most subtle outline of cheekbones, but in just the right lighting, it was enhanced tenfold, making them look sharper and higher. That was the best, the sudden burst of magic he had within him that allowed him to stop people in their tracks. Well, if you missed out on his cheekbones, fret not, you definitely will not miss his angular jaw. They were so perfectly chiseled and looked so sharp, as though if I were to run my hand across it, they would cut me. Jeez, Tyler, just how great can you be?
He was wearing a tight fitting black sleeveless shirt that was able to capture the amazing body he had underneath. The soft black fabric subtly defined the contour of each and every one of his abdominal muscles, bringing a smile to my lips as I saw the taut ridges of his abdominal muscles being highlighted in proud honor. And unlike most of the gym rats we both knew, his was all natural, not a result of something out of the medicine cabinet. He was wearing a pair of black jeans that hugged onto his figure beautifully, like a second skin, showcasing his calves in all of their majestic glory. He stirred for an instance before returning to his slumber. I caught sight of his black work boots on his feet and sighed as I knelt before him.
