You learn a lot about your level of self control when you have an armpit to the face.

Over the weekend, I embraced my inner athlete and participated in an early morning fun run. But that is not what this article is about. The saying goes the life is about the journey, not the destination – so I’m writing about my journey to the beginning of my journey.

Part of the fun run experience means joining the thousands of keen runners making their way to the starting line at 4am. As participation scores you free public transport, most competitors decide to take the train.

Stepping onto the platform, I wasn’t aware of what I was in for until I met a friend who was at the 21st I attended the night before. While I made a strategic early exit, he continued on with the festive shenanigans. My kind observation that “you smell like you had a big one,” was not taken well. “I didn’t brush my teeth,” I was informed between his groans.

About a minute later, an already overcrowded train arrived and we carefully wedged ourselves in the small gaps between the existing passengers, positioning ourselves to try to avoid a full frontal facial blow of morning breath. But sometimes we all try to no avail. Now, as luck would have it, it was unseasonably warm for that time of year at that time of morning, so a cloud of musty perspiration was already lingering in the air. This was somewhat unwelcome in the small confines of our carriage.

Usually, I would start making angry sigh noises and shooting the stinkeye at strangers in this situation, but my disposition remained uncharacteristically socially acceptable.

With my feet pointing one way and my neck twisting to face the other, I cursed my slightly shorter than average height as I found myself head-on with a woman’s unshaved armpit (good on you for going against the commercial ideals of female beauty lady, but it’s ironic for you to be shoving your own feminine ideals in a sister’s face – even if it was unintentional). But did I curse that lady? No.

I was privy to some of the most boring, douchey conversation about Coles politics, but did I roll my eyes? No.

At one point, a girl was standing two centimetres in front of me, whipping her ponytail against my face each time she looked from left to right (which was every 20 seconds). Did I violently rip out the pony tail and scream at her that “there is nothing exciting to look at this damn train! What kind of sadistic human being are you?!” I wanted to, but no I did not.

As more people squeezed onto the train, I contorted my body to make way for the unwelcome visitors to my personal space. I held on to the handles dangling from the ceiling and held my tongue, despite the situation being like a vertical version of Twister (right foot: wedged between the legs of a stranger).

It appears that I have matured to a point where I can look like a perfectly pleasant human being, while thinking evil thoughts and plotting heinous acts.