Commuting Reveries and Hypoxic Training

An odd thing happened to me on the train back from work.

I was seated right next to the train door, staring into space, with The Gypsy Kings blaring on my ipod. The subway in my city is pretty old and the train makes one hell of a ruckus as it rolls along down the tracks. The matching rhythmn of noise and motion was oddly soothing. I felt tired. So tired. My eyelids drooped and my head nodded off to one side.

All of a sudden I'm home. Not physically home, but HOME home. An overwhelming sense of nostalgia rushed over me. I was transported to a place that seemed so far away, to a time that seemed so long ago. It smelled like home. It felt like home. Estoril? Hong Kong? I still don't know.

And the moment is gone. Just as quickly as it came, it was gone. I tried desperately to grasp on to that feeling. The long summers, the simple joys... not a care in the world... all slipped through my fingers.

Now as I write, I can barely remember the feeling. I just know that I want it back. But I'm back to real life... and to unraveling the mysteries of hypoxic training and it's recovery rate.