Going to exercise.
That was what Mama told me at 5am, shouting from the kitchen.
"Amara! If you don't go and exercise, that your big trouser will not zip again!"
I groaned. I love sleeping more than I love jollof rice. But Mama had already opened my curtain, poured cold water on my leg small, and stood with cane.
I dragged myself up. I wore the only legging I have that has not torn. It was tight, my thighs were shouting. I wore big shirt that says "No Pain No Gain" - lie.
I stepped outside. Ojoto cold morning air slapped my face. The road was still sleeping, only one or two okada passing.
I started walking. Just walking. My plan was to walk to the junction and come back and tell Mama I jogged 5km. Who will check?
But as I was walking, I saw something. An old man, maybe 70 years, running. He was not jogging, he was running like a young boy. Sweat everywhere, but smiling.
He passed me and said "Good morning, small madam! Keep moving!"
Shame catch me. A 70-year-old man is running, and I, 24-year-old Amara, is dragging leg like snail.
So I started running too. Small small. My chest was burning, my leg was paining me, but I was running. I ran to the junction, then to the next street, then back.
When I reached home, Mama looked at me sweating and laughed, "Ah! So you can run?"
That morning I realized going to exercise is not punishment. It's a meeting with yourself. It's you telling your laziness "shift".
Since that day, I don't wait for Mama to shout. Every morning by 6am, I and that old man run together. He is now my exercise partner.
And the trouser? It zips now.
IMAGE SOURCE:AI