I’m not getting Deepak Chopra on fools. Or at least I don’t want the public perceptions of what he does coming down on me and my personal views.
I’m the same agnostic, hip-hop lovin’, joke-crackin’, booty-smackin’, bike-rackin’, progressive-minded Angeleno.
Believing in the subjectivity of the human experience, I am not quite sure what pain I have experienced.
Maybe it’s the most pain in the world and I’ve dealt with it really well. Or maybe it’s the least pain in the world and I wouldn’t deal well with “real” pain. I honestly don’t know anyone else’s pain other than my own.
Running is my way of feeling my own pain.
I try to mentally record the physical pain of the moment. When I’m sitting comfortably in front of this pink lil netbook typing this out, I try to remember how tired my muscles are, how heavy my legs feel, and how far and how distant the finish line feels when I am running.
For my mind, usually sealed off in delusions of grandeur and occupied with grandiose and elegant theories about how things work, running is a way of feeling my mortal limitations. It’s my way of reminding me that I am a human being. It’s my way of connecting to the human experience of feeling limited.
Fighting through and remembering the fight through physical pain is my way of understanding and being sympathetic to other people’s pain — be it a physical or mental pain. The physical pain I experience and remember becomes a way to understand how limited we can be if put in certain situations.