Last night saw the return of the burn. The rush of lactic acid filling my calves and quadriceps, the gasping for oxygen, the thrill of the run.
Running is masochistic by nature. The punishment for progression, the wreckage for the regeneration , the hunger for the burn!
It's a feeling that you dread, yet you crave its arrival. If it doesn't appear your not pushing hard enough. Easing off when you should be hammering the gas. So down the pedal goes, nearing the end, searching for the extra gear, striding out, in search of your peak. Then it engulfs you, like a tsunami battering a far away coastline. Endorphins fill your brain, the by product of your brutality.
You crave the burn. You crave it's improvement. You crave the pain that signals your progression. You crave the tightness in your legs, the heaving of your chest, and the ache from the acid. You crave it, cause without it there is nothing. No gains, no losses, a standstill.
The road's gonna make me burn, and I love it!
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