ouchies.

our aversion to the most minor pains is perplexing. popping little white asprin and blue drug store pain relievers at the exact times that are laid out by the bottle- two pills every eight hours, or some variation thereon, so that we don't have to feel anything at all.

sometimes I subscribe to it. I won't lie- I don't like feeling discomfort any more than the average person and I have an unbelievably low tolerance for pain. and sometimes it's necessary- I'm in no means trying to argue that relief from pain is bad.

but sometimes I think that feeling the hurt might be good. because I'm too young to hurt in any real way, and sometimes the dull throbbing helps to anchor me. feeling the aches and the strains and hearing the hollow echos of cracking joints is a constant reminder of something. I don't know what- but it's something and isn't that enough? It's like always being aware of a dedication to something: I hurt because I run, and I run because I love it.

I thought that this would become more eloquent as I wrote it, but it ended into an incoherent mess. (as per usual). I've got shin splints in my right leg and I'm acutely aware of that fact every time I try to move, but I've also got the fastest times that I've ever run. I've never run myself this hard before, and I'm happy with how things are going.