The joggers, link to next node. This is about running. It's serious shite.

Whereas jogging is just normal fitness sickness, running is a form of masochism. Been there, done that.

Last Friday I did a hill session. I run six times about 500 meters up to a hill and as a recovery I jogged it down. In the end I almost passed out as the blood escaped my brains.

You never forget your first time. It was 1500m in Vammala, Finland. I felt absolutely good before the race and I made considerably good result for me (4:13) and in the finish I sat down and took a deep breath. As I tried to stand up after a half minute or so, all went black. I fell back on the grass and I think I was unconscious for about a minute or so. I lay down for 10 minutes but when trying to stand up again I found it impossible. I had to lie there about a half hour before I was able to move again.
The feeling was absolutely horrible. I felt so powerless and almost wanted to die. But, this is the very feeling I've been hunting after since. The feeling you've given everything you got. The pain is the signal of perfection.

A friend of mine has a tendency to throw up after a hard race. This may have something to do with Freudian consepts of childhood traumas but he says vomiting is in some respects very enjoyable thing to do even it does taste bad and his stomach hurts.

Sunday is the day for a long run. It will take from hour and half to two hours and afterwards you're so tired that sometimes you cannot even move a fork in order to put some food in your mouth. You know it quickens your recovery if you eat something but you just can't do it or maybe you don't even want to. You're just lieing on your bed staring at the ceiling.

Marathon. This is The Thing. Think about the history of Marathon. It's really perverse trying to repeat the journey that this ancient poor fellow did. Most of you haven't probably seen the worst of this masochist festival. Most of you remember just the smiling faces of winners but the real horror takes place when the cameras have gone away. Chafed nipples and armpits, displaced nails, dehydrated runners, broken insteps. Everything is sacrificed to 42km. And next year they will be there again.

I'm pretty sure that I've killed more brain cells by running (and therefore priorising the oxygene to flow to feet instead of brain) than by drinking. Today I will only make 10km so that tomorrow I can complete my masochistic fantasy running 6 times 1km in 3 minutes with 3 minutes recovery.

See you on the track.

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