I write about my life and life itself seen through my eyes for who can write through the experiences of others if not their own?

Monday, November 08, 2010


When I state wholeheartedly my dislike for short distance races, people blink twice, shake their heads and exclaim: What???

26.2 miles vs. 3.1 – makes no sense.

It does to me. It is the level of pain.

A 5K is all out. When the gun goes off, I often wish it hit me so I could stop right there. The pain is so acute, breathing is hard. Unbearable.

I think I have a knack for enduring prolonged pain. Acute pain breaks me.

A panic attack renders me hopeless; a latent fear challenges me, instead.

Acute fear, intense pain, the anguish of a break up has brought me down to my knees. Days when the pieces of a broken heart flowed out of my eyes in the form of tears. Days when my face rested on the cold tiles of the shower as the tears mixed in with the water. Moments when the ache felt so interminably difficult and all I wanted was to get through the next hour.

But a sadness that lingers is endurable because even in the most dreaded instances of it, I can still remember moments that made the ride (or run) worthwhile sometimes serving as a vehicle that drives the memory back in time to some happy moment if only so briefly.

I can deal with prolonged pain, I can focus and I can get to the finish line. But the pain that breaks me, the pain that cuts, the intense, unbearable pain, it is just that, unbearable and it makes me want to escape that dark place of pain. I’ll do anything to avoid it.

I will never go back to that dark place of ache.

I’ll run a marathon to avoid running a 5K.