choking

On Monday we started the last long stretch to Finland. I felt ill. I hadn’t really slept the night before. First I couldn’t fall asleep and then I woke up too early. Something was troubling me but I didn’t really know what.

Every kilometre made me feel worse. I felt like something was slowly choking me.

Later I started to think that maybe I was homesick. I don’t really know what it is like to be homesick but I was missing home so that must be it. It bothers me that somebody else is living in my flat, sleeping in my bed, drinking from my coffee mug, waking up with the sun shining on to my balcony and riding to work with my bike. I miss my running route through the misty wood in Buttes Chaumont. As strange as it was, I was terribly missing Paris and my life.

I heard it was raining in Finland. Every hour in the car saw the temperature drop – no more blue skies and heat the hugs you as soon as you open the door in the morning. Holidays were almost over.

I try to be positive. I will soon start my internship and it will be interesting and new. We are organising a huge barbeque for my birthday – that should be utter debauchery and a lot of fun. I have my marathon in no time and soon after the big white bird will take me to the sun.

Two months is not that long. Surely the time will just fly by and before I even notice I will be in Africa.

But it is two months without home. It is two months in somebody else’s world. It is two months in somebody else’s life.

It is so easy to go on, move forwards, move on, create something new. But going back…there is no going back.