One of the most exquisite things I have enjoyed in Portland is my weekly runs from the East side of town to the West. Crossing the Burnside Bridge with a red face, sweaty scalp, and the strong desire to collapse and fall, but utilizing the last ounce of will in me to keep pushing for those last 5 miles, is pure ecstasy to the point in where I consider it somewhat sexual. I'm sure there is a dash of masochism in the mix somewhere, but the real thrill is knowing my limits... and pushing my workout even further.
I consider it to be the truest "will to power", in where literally and physically you are practicing that standard. There's a difference between reading something and understanding it logically, and carnally comprehending something. When my face is covered in sweat, and my heart is burning as if I just swallowed an entire pint of hot sauce, I revel in the pain knowing that it is only making me stronger. The more it hurts, the more I enjoy it, and the healthier I am left at the end of the day.
Weights aren't my favorite thing, they are a shortcut to getting a fit body. You won't see a single dumbbell in Parris Island or San Diego, but instead a complete 12 o'clock alpha male drill instructor screaming into your face to keep doing pushups. I envy that intense motivation, but I'm not a stranger to being without a parental advisor/counselor.
As hard as it is, I have to be my own parent, my own drill instructor, my own enemy. It's difficult to combat your own innate laziness. All too often I look at the people at the gym and am irritated at their smug belief that simply being there is combating laziness. It's not just about keeping a particular standard - it's about propelling yourself forward!
A salute to war, self-violence, and the will to power.
