Last Saturday, me and my friend were trying to figure out a way to get into San Francisco from Emeryville, which is right across the Bay Bridge. We were supposed to use the "F," a bus whose only purpose is to bring people to SF. Unfortunately, due to construction or whatever, all trains on the BART weren't going in, which meant that everybody took the F, which meant that there was no way for us to get to SF. We passed by five stops, one earlier than the other, and every time we waited, a packed bus would just us by, leading us to coin the phrase, "F the F."
Finding some means of transport led us into the ghettos of Oakland and it was not a nice neighborhood. Eventually, we found our way by getting on a shuttle offered by BART. The amount of walking and running we did that day was nonsense, and exactly one week from that day, I went through my usual walking route. The lingering aftereffects of that trip would've been far worse if I hadn't started preparing myself through these weekly walks.
And it's during these walks that I can enjoy the moment. Exercise and happiness are closely linked, and I'm at most inspired when I'm tired. I thought about the final chapter of Love Sick and I think I finally got it sorted out. Compared to my other stories, it's not as explosive, but what it lacks in surprise, it should make up for in conclusiveness.
