Athletic Intellectual Intoxication

It is the feeling of utter dissolution I feel late in the evening when I have had enough drinks to silence the outer noise of the world. It is the perfect mixture of drinks when I can finally enjoy the music, poetry, book, movie, or my inner tone without interruption of the idiocy around me. It makes me feel alive when I can feel my heart ripped out and not give a shit. I feel so far from the ordinary and love it.

I do miss the athlete inside me that craves a three mile run at 7AM. But, it is a different high that comes at the creation of original thought at 2AM that cannot be imitated or copied. I was missing this vibe and hated it when it was gone from my life, much like I hate missing my 3 mile runs. I really feel that I cannot have both worlds at once, and they are destined to only meet occasionally while in passing. The Athlete and the writer are estranged lovers that to only meet while transitional from one to the other.

There is an ecstasy I feel in both lifestyles. There is nothing like feeling your muscles scream as you punish them and the exhilaration that follows a tough workout. The battle that your mind goes through as you conquer a hill or PR.

I used to thrive at my workouts on the treadmill at the gym. I would stare at myself In the window at the YMCA as the window became a mirror as day turned to night. I would look in my own eyes and dare myself to run harder and faster.

I feel I write the same way. I stare at myself in Pint glasses and vodka bottles daring myself to create something new. This might seem obscure to some, but I believe other artists will feel me on this. It takes an intoxicated soul to escape the demand for the ordinary and complacent spirit to create something that challenges what we believe as human beings.

I would love to train for another triathlon. I loved feeling light as a feather in my daily routine. I felt untouchable by the world because my worries about the coming day melted away. I loved the accomplishment as I met a challenge. To beat my demons back and physically challenge myself before the world I surrounded myself with was awake for the day felt great.
I feel the same about my writing. A man has demons to conquer and they are never all physical. Our mental demons creep on us during the waking hours and conquer us in our dreams. My demons lie to me and can never be destroyed. I know that I can have a few too many drinks and write about my demons for the world to see and sleep tenderly afterward. It is only after restless nights of having writers block that I crave the 7AM three mile run.


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