we had found just the right place on the first occasion. it was perfect. you wanted it to be. i said so. even though, down below the words, and the smiles, and the optimism, and all the reasonableness, someone insisted that i couldn't stay.

i remember running in victoria park, one of those days. i had come to london and it was the definition of a city. vibrant and beautiful. unlike me, who was ossified, except for the hours when i dashed – haphazardly – through the adjacent boroughs. there was no point in being anywhere, no point in arriving anywhere. that was the point. i made that my point.

«bear in mind the past and the future, but don't ever let them rob you of the present. because that's all you've got», the lady in the last scene suggests. and that, not fitness, not competition, not some neoliberal self-improvement bullshit, is the purpose of running.