The Social Driveway

With every mile I mill into the concrete, the pumping beats of my heart freestyle these colorful clouds into my head. There is no room for reflection, no time for doubt, or even anger. There is only one direction and that is forward. Taste of blood on my tongue. Frowns of people, who look astonishingly fresh. 60 year old men, taking over, smiling and hardly sweating. My legs vibrate, transcend from physical to metaphysical, controlled only by willpower. The inner bullfight escalates. Pain, hunger, thirst, driven into my ego like spears. My ego, the raging bull, stomping and pushing. No question. There will be blood.

Why would I do that? Someone yells this question right in my ears, louder and louder.

Why would I do that? Voluntarily. Even pay for that. Who is that stupid?

I am. And just like with every other fight I win, I might get a little stronger, more independent, more experienced out of it. And the only enemy, running a marathon, is me. No-one will stop me. No one will try to make me fall. The opposite is the case. I will be carried through the finishing line, by the sheer joy of people seeing me voluntarily take the pain to go the distance. Winning is never easier than as a runner. The finishing line is just a matter of perspective. I will always win. The only thing I can lose, is the fear of failure, the fear of pain, attachment to pride and ego.

Its a decision for the rest of my time.

Once I did it, I will always remember, just like a tattoo on my skin.

And with every of those pictures, I carry on my skin, I uncover the underlying picture. Bit by bit. Mile by mile. Race by race.

Perhaps thats why its the same – getting a tattoo or running a marathon. Once you get one, you can’t stop getting more. I will run my third Marathon in two weeks. And it  feels like I am just getting started.