Fault Lines

In the middle of a regular training cycle, my little pains and niggles become normal, daily creaks. First steps on the cold wood floor shoot electricity up my calves. Hips are sucked-in tight knots.

Now that I am waiting to race, a week into my first part of a taper, I'm finding these new pains concerning. Tiring. I question whether it is normal delayed onset soreness or could it be that tiny micro-tears have split along the fault lines, becoming full fledged ruptures. One more week, that's all I need to get through, then I can take a little time off. 

A little time off sounds nice.

Into these guys the last few days. 

Future Islands

Shake-Out

We woke up to what we knew would be a long, long rainy day. We packed up the kids and headed down to the beach so that they could move their miserableness to a different house.

After checking in for the Long Beach Island 18 Mile Run I found the chance to get out for a quick shake-out 4 miles. Loosened up quickly and felt decent enough, but the foot pain was there. I guess there is no hiding from this running issue.

So... I'll load up a few bottles of my maple syrup, salt, and water mix, throw on my Altras and head out down the long, straight road. I will be looking to find an even pace that I can sustain for as long as possible and see how it all plays out.

Remembering Why We Do Some of the Things We Do Which Are Not Always Fun

Today marks the five year anniversary of the passing of James Conlon. He was a good friend. The best from a time when I had many good friends. There for me when I most needed one. I've made a point to try to contemplate James every day since I got the phone call.

I was just home from work, assisting with our newborn deep into "witching hour" howling. James and I hadn't seen each other much since Roman was born. A few quick post-work drinks and one (now) very important visit so he could hold my little guy. We spoke on the phone occasionally and emailed frequently. I knew he was feeling some sort of sickness but couldn't work out what it was. He was back and forth with his doctors but ultimately couldn't find the cause. Then it was over.

This is meant to be a running blog. Stories of my troubles and travails on the road and trail. Challenges around managing goals, training, family, work. It feels weird to write about James here now.

Running is not straightforward for me. It is not always enjoyable. Occasionally I find a moment of success. Every so often I run into an epiphany (though I'm not really fond of the term), but rarely does it come easy. In the act of running I find that I am continually searching. Rarely do I discover anything. When I do happen to stumble upon something of meaning in the run, I can usually point to the moment and say "there was where I discovered something about myself"... but I probably couldn't tell you any more than that. So I go back out again. It is a cycling, never ending exploration.

It was James' death that ultimately sent me down this path.

His passing scared the shit out of me. It was too unexpected. He was too healthy and important to too many people. Me with a new baby boy and all I could think about was that I wasn't a piece of the man he was. I was not healthy. I knew that I had wasted years on nonsense. It took a little while before I started to let the fears creep in that something was lurking below the surface. Out of my control. Some illness, an impending breakdown. Questions about purpose. I could not push it away.

So I started running again. Running hard at something off in the distance, away from things in the past.

When James died I found it easy to pull away from anything that included him. I regret it now. I wasn't moving on, more moving away. Searching. Now after five years, I'm happy that the act of remembering James can continue to inspire me to endure and go on with my exploration. To keep at it.

Keep running.

The Year of Racing Terribly (or nearly not at all)

I write this having been up for 20+ hours tending to my son in a household ravaged by some vicious little stomach bug. I haven't had time to think about it yet, but I believe I may be fighting the thing as well. And I have a race in a few days.

I feel desperately unprepared for this one. I have miles in my legs but not enough. I have hills that have worn me out and made me stronger, but I question if I've gone high enough. Have I gone hard enough? I'm pretty sure that I have not.

Running provides a much needed outlet for me, a time and place where I can turn off the noise of the world and breath in mental silence. Not every run is a good one physically, but they have all been useful (even the really bad ones) psychologically, spiritually.

But it can sometimes lose it's impact when it is clouded by the guilt around my sometimes not being able to reach my own expectations... set around race specific training and usually the races themselves. This alone can push me to depression when running is supposed to be the thing that guards me from it.

I start to wonder and obsess on how others do it. How do they commute, work, commit time and energy to their families and still find time to be the best they can possibly be athletically. It can get lonely not being able to figure this out.

I'm blessed to have the support of one of the best shoe companies in the market. And I feel guilty for having the opportunity to represent them. Being a part of the Altra Ambassadors allows me to be inspired by a fantastic team of enthusiastic explorers, but sometimes their endeavors and successes make me feel less than.

I haven't trained as much as I would like. I won't make excuses about that. I have barely raced, but hope to pick that up as we go into the summer. I have races on the calendar including a late entry into the NYC Marathon.

I want to turn the year around. I think I may need many more long, quiet runs to figure out how.

Meditation

With the realization that our rough winter might now be coming to a close, I spent some time this morning thinking about how I've been doing too many runs on the treadmill, too many hours staring at the wall.

This morning, after a short pre-dawn run (on the mill), I spent some quiet time sitting on the floor reflecting. I had a brief few moments remaining between a cold shower and the time when both boys start calling.

I breathed over and over listening as the air move in my nose, out my mouth. I heard the house creak and birds wake. I studied the quiet in my head. I came to a realization. 

I generally run on the treadmill because of time constraints, inclement weather, what seems like constant darkness, and sometimes laziness. I have lost something in this transition. On the treadmill I have to work with necessary coping mechanisms to manage the tedium. I wear headphones. I cover the screens with a shirt so I don't gasp through each dot on the little LCD track in front of me. I count songs and segments on podcasts. I'm not lost in the serenity of the activity. I'm hyper-aware of each step, each little movement of time. I have separated myself from the quiet. 

Remove the faint rhythms of feet on trail and the cadence of breath and I lose a significant part of what gets me through this day. Or the next one. Or the next week.

Without me even realizing it I've altered my meds, changing the running chemicals and dosages that keep me balanced in other areas of my life. I need to change this.

Spring is here. It's time to clear out the webs and begin that search again for those blissful quiet moments.

Why did no one tell me about these guys?

A Brilliant and Tough Year in Review

Defining rigorous goals in times that should never allow it can be both frustrating and fulfilling. I'm one to set my targets high, higher than should be allowed. So, I have had to be comfortable with failure knowing that 50% completion can sometimes be considered success.

I have a tough job that puts demands on me. I have a long commute. And I have a family, where I intend to be an active participant. After all these things, plus some sleep and relaxation, I have to find time to train.

After 2012, where I met "some" of my goals, I put a big one on the table. I wanted to complete a tough 50k. I didn't wait to see if I could get there; I put my money down early and got it on the calendar. 

Everything building up to this August race was training. Everything after has been recovery (though not much was needed). I knew what was in-store for in 2013 outside running, so I made it okay to have my one "A" race... my one big goal. 

So here is my running year in review. While the the apex is a few months back, the year had a surprisingly large number of high points, ones that ultimately made my first 50k finish look small in comparison.

• January - I was selected to join Altra as a brand ambassador. I loved the shoes but found joining the team of inspiring runners was what really pushed me to train and perform as I headed into spring. I've enjoyed being a part of this family immensely, and have been happy to promote them to anyone who will hear me. I continue to believe that they make the best shoes on the market. Case in point is that I have gotten through 2013 completely injury free. I believe that the shoes have had something to do with this.
• February - My family moved into our new home. It meant a longer commute, but finally put me closer to the "country." Not the Northeast Kingdom I'm used to, but I had a nice big home, some land, and more than enough trail heads within a few miles of my front door.
• March - My wife gave birth to our second boy, little Marcus. He has filled out our family perfectly. Nothing more needs to be said about that.
• April - Ran the NJ Half Marathon with my best friend. He came all the way from Argentina to do this one with me. I'm not great on the road, with the sustained, rhythmic pounding, but after a completely hectic start line situation, we finished strong along the seashore with a respectable time.
• May - Finally found that with our move, I could get some trail training in. It gave me more confidence that the tough 50k coming up just might be doable. My commute was killing me, and finding the time to train was nearly impossible, but I found a way to make it work (sometimes at 4am). I saw a lot of sunrises.
• June - Raced a short 10k trail race on my home trails and came in 7th. It was blazing hot which did me a lot of favors. I paced the first few miles well and passed a bunch on the biggest uphill. Hammered it home and gained just a little more confidence.
• July - What should have been my heaviest training month provided the greatest mental anguish. With a young family, I had to make choices that pushed my training down the priority list. I kept at it when I could but really suffered internally. It forced me to question what I was capable of. Finally, towards the end of the month, I forced myself to hit the treadmill for a 2 1/2 run. This mill sits in my basement and forces me to stare at a wall 2 feet away. I told myself that if I could get through this mentally, I could get through much more while distracted in the woods.
• August - That Night I Dreamt of Rocks. I got through my race. It had its suffering but the feeling after was fantastic. Immediately after, I started thinking about the next big challenge. Mentally, I signed up for the Vermont 50 in 2014. 
• September - While I didn't stop running after the 50k, I did loosen the routine a bit. Eventually, this got me into the cycle of putting running way down the list. As September went on, my mileage dropped. I started thinking about little "micro adventures", little projects that would give me reason enough for getting out. I started thinking about a trail running club. 
• October - Creeping along but I really started to feel that I had lost my momentum. I decided to start a running club for folks that like to get out in Watchung Reservation. With a few long(ish) runs on the calendar, I at least knew that I was keeping the base miles and it was really nice to run with other trail runners. Seeing that I would be living here for years to come, I felt that I might as well work to build a community of like-minded runners. So far, so good.
• November - With a good bit of a fall cold wiping me out for two weeks, I went into a rough, quick 6 mile trail race (NJ HashAThon) completely unprepared. Found that the base lives on even when you are not consistently putting in the miles. It was only six, but I got through it quicker than I thought I would and enjoyed myself out there. One of the best trail races I've seen for crowd attendance and support. It's always nice to get cow bells in the middle of a climb. This will definitely be on my yearly calendar, and I look forward to eventually running it with my boys. The rest of November was a wash with little training. I went into December knowing that I had to change things.
• After really struggling with motivational issues, I decided to go into December on a run streak. Bad weather wouldn't stop me because I had the treadmill in the basement. At least 1 mile a day was my goal, and I kept at it for 22 days. As I got into the holidays, I just got tired. Knowing that I had a race coming on January 4th, I decided to throw in the towel, comfortable knowing that I could get out there day after day if I had to.

Now, after surviving and tough but fulfilling year, I start to think about my goals for 2014. As I stated at the beginning, aim big and be happy with small successes.

• A 50 miler run quickly. This will probably take two 50k's as training races, but I'm looking to finish the Vermont 50 in September.
• I would like to complete a timed race, probably starting with a 6 or 12 hour race. Running with the Devil provides the perfect mix of climbing in a timed event. 
• Hoping to race some trails in a different country. If we get to southern Italy this year, that would be the perfect place. We'll see.
• Last but not least, I need to continue to work to find the appropriate level of balance in my family life and training. Always a struggle, I need to find ways to work around the family better, and involve them in the process whenever possible.

Otherwise, a good 2013. It will only get better in 2014.

This one is for my wife. Not red haired,

but there in spirit (i.e. fiery)

Week Ending 11/3/13

Be consistent.

Most would say that this is trick. Even if you only have a few minutes to get your run in, do it.

This is where I fail. I'm becoming quiet good at failing.

10/28/13

Mon - Nothing

Cold starting creeping in (thank you child that puts everything in your mouth). This will be a theme for the next two weeks as this thing destroys me.

10/29/13

Tue - Nothing

10/30/13 -10/31/13 - 11/01/13
More nothing. Getting good at it.

11/02/13
Saturday 1.0 - 0:43:42 - 4.63 miles (725') - Powerlines with a little added misery
Not my best one. Don't know if it was that I hadn't run in 6 days, the cold wreaking havoc on my body and mind, or the cheeseburger in my tummy, but this one was a sufferfest. Thought I'd do some repeats of my powerline climb but after the first one, nearly booted the lunch from a few hours earlier. Was going to bring it home after that but decided that if I was going to feel like crap, I might as well enjoy it. So, I linked up to my local trails and ran a few more miles before calling it quits.

Saturday 2.0 - 0:30:00 - 2.00 miles (100') - Passaic River Parkway Trail w/Marcus
After my earlier failed run, took "The Tank" for a hike. Wearing him is good for my legs so it was nice to get out there for a little clean-out.

11/03/13
Sunday - 0:48:04 - 5.64 miles (1000') - Watchung Res to home by way of Pink Trail
Went to the nature center at Watchung Reservation with the family. Ran home from there. Pink Trail to a link-up with the road home. A lot of climbing for a short run. Tried to power through the climbs to make up for yesterday's failure. Felt like my first good run in a while.

Miles: 12.2

Hours: 2:01:46

Elevation: 1,825'

Don't know why I chose this one. Just takes me 

back to high school.

Finding Motivation

As winter darkness creeps in and the days get shorter, I discovered a timely post from Gary Robbins on finding that motivation to continue on, to keep moving when the weather heads south.

It's no secret that I've found it hard lately to strap on the headlamp and pound out miles on the dark streets and trails. Just as he states, for me it is not due to any physical issue. The struggle is all in my head.

So, I will try to use some of his numbered techniques to see if it can get through the darkness to my next big race.

I used #9 (Give it Twenty) this weekend and as always, it worked. I felt awful after a steep climb. My plan was to cruise down and do a few repeats of the hill, but after sweating my way up, I was more concerned with keeping my stomach intact. I was about to turn-in but I forced myself to take a right and veer off on a path that would draw a few more miles out of me. It med me tighten up an un-do whatever was done by my big lunch and big climb.

I got home a little more tired than I would have liked but with not a single regret about the run.

Why We Run

For those who have known me over the years or followed my ramblings on social media, they may have been witness to a fairly dramatic transition over the last two years. A few years back, I was not really a runner. I may have run occasionally when some bit of fear was chasing me, but I did not identify myself as a runner.

Now I talk, write, post constantly about running.  I think about it constantly, not only why I run, but why I now have to allow it to envelop me. I've attempted to write about this new identity before here on this blog, though I think I will be struggling with this one for years.

Enter the new episode from Solomon Running TV. Bernd Heinrich is an inspiration and captures the essence of what I have been chasing for some time. I could watch this man for hours.

"The essential thing is to run, period... and to do it for a long time, and consistently. Then everything takes care of itself."

That Night I Dreamt of Rocks

"Philistines may think that we were madmen indeed to go through such suffering and danger to arrive at this lonely spot. What did you hope to find up there, they may ask. Glory? Nobody cares about young fools who waste their best years in meaningless combats far from the eyes of the world. Fortune? Our clothes were in rags, and the next day we would go back down to a life of slaving for the barest essentials. What we sought was the unbounded and essential joy that boils in the heart and penetrates every fibre of our being when, after long hours skirting the borders of death, we can hug life to us with all our strength." - Lionel Terray

I hit my time to taper down. Felt odd in that I was not really doing heavy mileage to begin with, but I knew that it was better to be under-trained than over. At least this is what I told myself each night as I tried to fall asleep.

I was under-trained. That was understood.

But would I be able to use the accumulation of miles over the last year and a half to get my ass through three rough ten+ mile loops. The race was put on by Rick at NJ Trail Series. I had run a few of their races before and found them to be well managed, well stocked, and tough.

Could I do it? One loop. Absolutely. I even imagined I could get through it quickly if necessary. Two, sure. Three… unknown.

That is the fun with doing a first ultra. One does not know how the day will go until one is deeply embedded in the situation. That is when you begin to understand what is possible.

So in my downtime where I wasn't running as much, I had to do something race related. I prepped. I pulled materials together and planned the nutrition strategy. I went through the hydration. Clothing needs, socks, shoes, contingencies. Over and over I laid it out and convinced myself that it was happening.

Night before the race I put it all out in the guest bedroom. I knew I’d be up at 4am packing it up and getting ready for the car trip to the start line. I could have done it in the dark by that point.

Like always, I got there early. The sun had not crested the hills yet as the first batch of runners left the start/finish line area. This group consisted of the few running the 100k (six loops) and a larger group taking on the 50 miler (five loops). There was an hour for nervous pacing and prepping before we 50k (three loops) runners lined up.

I had heard Rick’s start-line prep talk before. As he has mentioned on other courses, you aren't running by GPS distance, you are running his course. Don’t complain if is it is longer/shorter, rocky or rooty.

Loop one felt okay. It was hard but well within my wheelhouse. After the yelled "go!" we were off along a grassy stretch next to the road before we turned and headed up a rocky ATV road that headed into the Wildcat Ridge Management Area. After a brief climb we were onto some undulating single track that wound through the woods through weird Appalachian-style garbage dumps. Sadly, it reminded me of dump areas you would find in some backwoods areas of Vermont where I grew up. Eventually the trail climbed up and up as it made its way to the open ridge line. Few seemed to take in the overlook on the first pass, we were still bunched so it was hard to stop and smell the flowers. I did stop and pause on loop three on the cliff's edge for thirty seconds before heading off for the finish.

After the first top out along the ridge we wound down a rocky dirt road to the first water station (mile four & nine). From here we headed out into the real nonsense. Up and down and up and down through rocks that ranged from small and unstable to large and unstable. There didn't seem to be a piece of flat footing for four miles. I believe I thought this was interesting on the first lap. It got progressively more miserable on the second and third pass. Eventually the "Nam" business calmed down and we hit more rutty dirt road. We then moved onto a bizarre paved, steep downhill spell through a quite suburban neighborhood until we were eventually back at the start line.

Still feeling good at this point

I hit the full aid station in good shape. Reloaded my bottles, grabbed more gels and quickly took off for the next pass.

Loop two started strong. What I found, though, was that as I came upon each hill, each rocky descent, I had to suffer through the thought that I would have to do this one more time on much more tired legs.

It was a few miles into the second ten that something got out of whack. The sun came up higher in the sky and the temp began to climb. I found myself needing to drink more. I guess I let my salt levels go south because at around mile seventeen the cramping began.

Pain begins as a manageable force. It grows along the way. Eventually it becomes all encompassing but still something that you can push out and move through. I knew that it was either going to get much worse or I was going to find a way to let it dissipate.

The pain became comprehensive. I couldn't ignore it anymore as the fire worked from deep inside my hips down to the tips of my toes. My mind burned with it and I found myself emotional and foggy. You begin to question that damage that is being inflicted with each step, to the point where I found that I could barely take the steps. My legs were seizing up. I was at a very uncomfortable trot, a shuffle. I was deep into the death march.

I ran (walked) miles nineteen to the aid station contemplating calling it a day. I would be at my car. I could rehydrate, get things back in balance, sit and end the pain.

At the aid station I stood in front of the food not sure what to do next. Someone asked me if I was okay. I said no, not at all. Explained the problem. She forced some salt tablets down my throat. Put some fantastic salty chips in my hand. Told me to regroup until I was ready then get my ass back out there.

I sat next to my car for a few minutes going through a quit in my head. It just wasn't going to work. I couldn't comprehend it. I sent a quick text to my wife telling her that I was in a bad way but was going to walk the damn thing if I had to. I took off before I could get a response.

For loop three, I had the pleasure of knowing that everything I was doing would be the last time. It didn't mean that things were easier though. As my body balanced itself out, I found that I could trot some sections, hiking the steep stuff. I eventually came upon a fifty miler (I believe her name was Lara). When I told her that I was in a world of hurt, she laughed it off and told me that I looked great. That little bit of reassurance was what I need to keep the pace up to get me across the line. She and I ran off and on together for the last few miles. I mentally attached myself to her and felt like she was dragging me in.

10,000+ feet of elevation change. I got there in 7:47:11. A few minutes under my target.

I immediately started to feel better the moment I crossed the line on the pavement. I did not have to run anymore that day, and now I knew that I could do just about anything I put my mind to. I just wouldn't be doing much for the new few weeks.

Some of the gear that got me through:

Shirt - Proudly wore my Altra Ambassador shirt. After the race I had a few conversations about the shoes. I believe it came from me wearing the shirt because it definitely wasn't because of my stellar results (or form).
Shoes - Altra Lone Peak 1.5. Best mountain shoe on the market in my opinion. I thought my feet would be wrecked, but they didn't have a mark on them.
Socks - Injinji Run 2.0 Original Weight. Coupled with the roomy Altra's, these toe socks have saved me from blisters, damaged nails, and otherwise bloody feet.
Bottle - Ultimate Direction Fast Draw Plus. Packed it with Gu's and flattened pieces of sandwich.
Waste Pack - Some small Nathan pack I picked up that fit about five more Gu's.
Nutrition - About 15 Gu's, a few pieces of PB&J, some chips, and a few bottles of Fluid Performance drink.
Hydration - The Fluid and either too much or not enough water. Very rarely did I get the balance right.

Where Have I Been...

I've been absolutely negligent with my blogging lately so it's time for some output over the long running weekend. I have two race reports, 3 or 4 reviews of some excellent Altra shoes to share, and maybe a few other things about how difficult it can be to train hard when other, more important things get in the way. I have my first 50k in a few weeks and I do not believe that I have trained enough.

Enough of the nonsense. Time to get on the trails.

Grit

In the madness of a family move and a newborn, I haven't really had the chance to write much. I'm working on a post about my most recent results at the Longbranch Half Marathon. Should be up over the next few days.

In the meantime, I read and enjoyed a recent article from Running Times' Steve Magness on True Grit. As
I am only 24 hours out from my race, it was a bit of a cathartic experience to read about pain. I'm feeling a lot of it right now.

Here is a great quote from the article. I might have to give my mom a call.

"Falling apart in a 5K is painful, but it's just pain," says Frey. "But falling apart in a marathon, I believe you lose a year of your life. You complete the marathon feeling utterly defeated, knowing that it got the best of you, and you go home and ask your mom if she still loves you."

Community

One week on, many tens of thousands of words have already been put on paper and screen expressing sentiments regarding the tragedy at the Boston marathon. I don't know that I can add much to the dialogue but I do have something.

I love my running community.

By most runner's histories, I am a newcomer. And I have found a welcoming, challenging group of people. Each choosing to suffer for their own personal reasons.

And everyone suffers in this sport. Never equally, but equally consistent. From the elites setting records to the weekend warriors bringing up the back of the pack, each hurts their way through each and every run. And yet, to quote Jeff Edmonds, "ours is not a violent sport."

I remember back to a particularly difficult trail race I ran last year. The wheels were coming off in full force and I found myself suffering through an overwhelming feeling of loneliness out there in the woods. I had been running alone for the last few miles. I was practically walking and people behind me were catching up. Each one slowed down, checked to see if I was okay, and gave me some encouragement to keep going. One even cruised with for a few minutes to chat. He got me running again and brought me into the next aid station where I was able to right the sinking ship.

These were my competitors telling me to pick it up, to finish with them. The loneliness subsided and I ran through the pain of the last 6 miles.

Whether it's Patton Oswalt's uplifting rant or numerous others out there, the message is clear; for every bad, angry person trying to push their skewed outlook on the world, trying to prove to the world that this is a bad place, there are a million citizens that choose good.

Ultimately, few run endurance lengths for bad reasons and I would say that none have been made worse psychologically or spiritually through the regular act of running. It is a sport of the internal, and it didn't deserve what happened in Boston.

Road Marathon vs. Trail Ultra: Which Is Harder?

Road Marathon vs. Trail Ultra: Which Is Harder?

Interesting post from Sarah Lavender Smith at The Runner's Trip. I always enjoy her thoughts on running and this one is a look at the challenges that come with two very different types of racing. Very different in format and form, but both difficult none the less.

Makes me think of the importance of specificity training.

I love running in the woods, but because my next "A" race is on the road, I've been pushing myself up and down the streets. I know that the pounding of pavement is what I need to be able to jump my next hurdle.

Then on to a 50k trail race... and into the woods.

Footfeathers: Briefly on What it Means to Suffer

Fairly recent post from Footfeathers Racing.

This perfectly captures my recent thinking. If it didn't hurt I don't think I would be interested. After the hurt, I feel I can deal with anything.

"Footfeathers: Briefly on What it Means to Suffer: I've always been of the mindset that suffering in training makes racing pleasant.  I don't mean the common knowledge that training ..."

Why I Run, Possibly

I spend a great deal of time trying to understand why it is I obsess about running. Why does it take up so much of my thoughts after the running is done?

For my family, I would like to live longer, but I know that I do not run for health. I could give a shit about that unless it is working toward the end goal of being able to run faster or go further.

I don't run to lose weight. That became an easy, natural by-product of the miles. The extra pounds had to come off. Now I do everything I can to keep enough calories coming in to push the growling stomach away.

Beauty in a snowstorm

Two other possible reasons come to mind. Suffering and the commune with the natural world.

Second one first. I like nothing more than listening to my own breath and footsteps in an otherwise quiet environment. I can't find that indoors, and I love the woods, the dark streets. I am at peace there.

This is why I don't do headphones, why I do not run with friends. Not because I don't like music or conversation when I move, but because everything is so loud all the time. Home, commute, work. It is nice to hear very little, to give myself the opportunity to think to the point of void. When it all just wipes away.

Then there is the suffering. Anyone who has known me over the last twenty years knows that I have always been a fan of self-inflicted melancholia. When I was younger I sought out creative and (occasionally) destructive ways to suffer through life. I eventually smartened up, but never lost the need to feel torment. Running into pain filled the gap. As long as there is a further distance or harder route to attempt, I know that I will never be without my beloved misery.

I am going to spend some time over the next few months probing these thoughts further.