mind vs. body

When I was younger and did not yet know the sensation of one's foot falling asleep, I used to think the devil or some other sort of evil, invisible figure was poking me with millions of teeny-tiny needles. I would get terrified, thinking someone was attacking me and I couldn't do anything about it but helplessly wait until they stopped. And then when grew older & wiser, I realized it's something that happens to everyone and that it was a physiological phenomenon- not a spiritual attack.

I still remember the first time I threw up. Well, not the first time (obviously), because I was just a wee baby then, but the first time I was old enough to remember throwing up. I believe I was 4 or 5 years old and I scarfed down a whole Sam's Club (the equivalent of Costco in California) size box of Kit-Kats. I felt really queasy and felt something rising up in my throat. I thought my own being was trying to escape from my own body- like my soul was trying to get away. It was the strangest feeling.

Now that I think about it... it must be completely horrifying for kids when they first encounter these kinds of experiences- simply because (aside from being painful), it is an unknown territory. I worry about the day when my kids first become aware of these things and experience them for the first time. That's why when I have kids, I'll have to explain to them beforehand that these are just biological processes that everyone goes through and that they will be okay. But then again- maybe not everyone's imagination is as overactive as mine is.

I am currently training with my fellow church members for the Brooklyn half-marathon in May. I actually enjoy jogging over all other kinds of exercise, but I don't think I've ever run more than 5 miles at one time. Which makes me ask myself- what the heck did I sign up for? But so far, the training has been a lot better than I had expected- mostly because I love running at Central Park and it's nice motivation when running with others (whether it be friends or random strangers). There's this warm camaraderie among runners.

I guess people have been a bit surprised about my ability to keep up my pace during our runs. But really it's more of a mental thing than a physical thing. In fact, I have my own little strategy when I run. This might come off a little morbid, but I just convince myself that I'm at a concentration camp, and the Nazi guards are behind me carrying whips & rods, waiting to beat those who are falling behind. So even whenever I feel a little winded, I remind myself that the little cramp on my side and my growing fatigue is really not worth slowing down for... my life/survival is far more important than catching my breath. And that's what keeps me going.