So I skipped breakfast in the morning. I ran. Not fast. Not slow.
Just normal.
Worked all day. Just like normal. But no lunch.
And when I came home, I was hungry as hell. But I skipped dinner because I wanted to be ready.
Around 9pm, I went out and walked about a mile to this bakery. It serves the most incredible Chinese mooncakes. I bought a single red bean mooncake. They are weighty, packed with calories and delicious.
I walked back home at a moderate pace. I did not eat it. I looked at it. I wanted to eat it so, so badly. My stomach was more than growling-it was screaming. The need to eat was more than just a dagger in my belly...it seemed as if every part of my body was hungry I smelt the mooncake.
I read the Chinese characters on the side of it. I gave the edge a small lick. I smelt it again. Something deep within my brain, something primal changed. I got back home and placed the mooncake on my desk.
Then I went running and I imagined how some kenyans must feel. They need to succeed or they will feel that-until they die from it.
When I came back from my run, I ate the mooncake. And it didn't taste of carbohydrates, or sugar, or protein-or even of red bean.
It tasted like wisdom.