He labors to wear those clothes again. He has already had a long day. This is not the day to start. Not today. Can he not wait one more day? No, he hears. He has waited enough already.
He tries to remember the path he used to take. It has been eight months after all. He tries to remember the distance that he had measured, the milestones that he had placed in his mind. None of them come back. It is all a blur.
He puts the earphones in his ear and tries to find the correct playlist. He has been walking till now, trying to stretch as much as possible, preparing his muscles for the assault that is coming their way. It has been eight months after all.
As the music starts, he pushes himself to a jog. His feet pound the weathered road; trying to match the rhythm playing in his ears. His breathes gets shorter. He has forgotten how long he can keep running without slowing down to a walk. He keeps running.
As the songs pick up rhythm, he tries his best to match it. His lungs are trying to crack his ribs. He feels like there is only hot air around. It has been eight months after all. He feels a sense of euphoria as he crosses familiar terrain with every step.
After a point walking hurts more than moving faster. So he keeps moving. As he reaches closer to his destination, his body finally remembers what it had gone through eight months back. This is just the beginning, it is reassured. He stops short of feeling agony. Making sure he does not over spend. The last song sends a surge of adrenalin through his blood as he starts sprinting. Soon, the adrenalin turns into endorphins. Happy. It has been eight months after all.