No Finish Line...

PMS

What drives us to do the things that we do? What makes us motivated to go out and pursue what we hope to achieve? What makes us push ourselves beyond what others would?

I don't have the answer. But I keep doing it.

2 and 1/2 hours out in the sun this morning, and I was cursing myself the whole way. I felt lethargic and tired when I walked out the door, but still i laced my shoes and started slow. Halfway thru, I felt like giving up and going home, knowing that nobody would know but myself. That thought of a steaming cup of coffee and morning papers felt like a slice of heaven, but I kept going. My legs felt like iron bars and every step was labourous but I persevered. Why? I seriously don't know. Why do I do this?


Pain.

An hour or so later, I came in my door. I could have just took off my shoes and clothes and hit the shower, but no. I was tired, but I told myself its just mental. Strapping on my cycling shoes, I pushed my bike out the door. Hit the road and manouvered thru morning traffic till I dove into Kesas bike lane. Motored down the highway averaging 33km/h and feeling the morning sun burning my skin. Why torture myself thru the dust and smoke and heat? Even a stretch along Kesas near Bandar Puteri had open burning and the stench of smoke stuck to me like a leech. Still I had to keep on going. My mind was nowhere. Fleeting thoughts of Cancellara powering the Great Wall of China enroute to his Gold medal winning efforts made me pick the speed up a notch. The stinging pain in my quads and my labouring breaths slowed me down on the return.


Solitude. Suffering.

Close to an hour after I pushed my bike out the door, I was pushing my bike back in. I should have parked my bike, lie on the floor and catch my breath. But all I did was grab my goggles, my towel and head out the door again. Jumping into the pool, I was already famished. I pretty much estimated I had burned close to 1500 calories by now, and all the nutrition I had was a gel at km9.5 on the run. Hunger does funny things to your mind. It tells you that your legs are made of lead and your arms are heavy good-for-nothing rusty rods. 20 laps in the pool and I had nothing left. Climbing out of the pool, I was spent.


Torture.

And I still do not know why I do this. Why I bring suffering and pain to my body and my mind. Why I brave the heat and the humidity and the screwed up environment to go out there and torture myself.


Comfort.

I believe its an addiction. Pretty much like cocaine, nicotine, alcohol and booze. My addiction is called PMS. Its short for Physical-Muscular-Suffering.
Yes, I am a wannabe athlete.

posted by CapArnabBrand @ 11:00:00 AM