Bring it on, muthafucka

in recent days i've sorta become obsessed with the idea -- or, at least, the challenge of standing up to the idea -- of pain, endurance, suffering. this is not the first time i've focused this much energy on toughness, but it's the first time i've done it willingly, on my own, as opposed to being forced to deal with some real fucked up shit.

in the last month or so i've discovered how acutely aware of my surroundings i can be. i've taken notice of all those things -- mental and physical pains, discomforts, nuisances -- that used to keep me awake at night, and i came to the conclusion that if there's anything i don't want to be it is WEAK.

fuck.

that.

it's not that i'm going all rogue alpha male arrrrggghh he me roar or anything like that, but, for me, i am much happier knowing i can eschew wimpiness at will. and let's face it, wimpiness runs rampant in western society these days.

mental toughness. being mentally tough makes it easier to be physically tough. and vice versa.

as the temperature drops here in the Chi (and believe me, it's been droppin like a motherfucker, especially in the morning before sunrise) i've been experimenting with the elements, running in to the strong winds, braving the frigid air, forcing myself to buck the fuck up. sure, i have some winter gear to help me out, but there's something carnally satisfying about telling old man winter to go fuck himself, to fight through the discomfort and ultimately kick his ass. unfortunately for him, it has only just begun. i don't like running on treadmills.

so fuck you, winter. fuck you, pain. fuck you, weakness.

all across the fucking board.

fuck.

you.