Bleeding Nipples, cramping quads, blackened toenails, what are the odds? That such debasements of the body would be displayed as if honors, badges of courage, by other than marathoners?

Yet such is their striving, such be their quest, that such tolerance for discomfort is what draws out their best.

And when done in like spirit with thousands of others, whose goal is the same, as if sisters and brothers, the thought that “I can’t“ never enters the fray, as the miles fall behind ‘till the end of the day.

Some find such flagellation too self-involving a task, but if not for oneself, then for whom, might one ask? Where to suffer is a gift and to bleed is to bless, discovering what’s essential despite eruptions of the flesh.

Yes, it’s a difficult pleasure that others disavow, for the passing fancies that runners rarely allow. And brought to its finish in a benediction of well-being, with heartfelt gratitude though the body be disagreeing.

END