One of my favorite books of all times is "Ultra Marathon Man". The man is Dan Karnazes and he not only runs marathons, he runs them back to back. Like six marathons in a row, in one day. Only the marathons are through the rocky mountains, death valley or other forsaken real estate.
The book chronicles how and why he became an ultra marathon runner. The man started running to escape the pain of losing a sister. He started running after a night of bad tequila and almost starting an affair. He put on his gardening shoes and took off.
It's a read I return to again and again for inspiration.
I read it because of how he talks about the pain. Not so much the emotional pain but the physical pain he endures while running. About how, after a triple marathon, he went pack to his car and his body seized up. Then he proceeded to puke all over his dashboard.
That's awesome stuff I dare say! It's awesome because he's not mistaking comfort for happiness. He's going for it. Again and again.
Which brings me to this.
At one time I had a passion for yoga. It was my first brush with facing down the mental game of sport. If you think about it, yoga is putting yourself in poses and staying there. Just like running is well, running. Both sound easy but once you get into it, it doesn't stay easy for long. Thus begins the mental game. Of not listening to that voice that says stop. This is too hard.
Because I'm not listening. I went to kickboxing and dammit, I can't really walk today because of it. Seriously. I.can't.walk. I hobble and limp and wince and really OW OW OWOWOWOWOW I'm just trying to sit down on the couch. . . . It's awesome.
I've been mistaking comfort for happiness.
So I'm going to class again.
Once I can start walking again I'm heading back to class.