My body hates me, which, if you look at the detestable things I've made it do over the years you can almost understand its quiet disdain and disgust of me.
I always thought we got on, my body and me. It was a dysfunctional relationship yes, I would get upset at certain sizes and curves my body had, and in turn, my body would reply,
"Well the size of your cock you can blame on your parents and the basic principals of genetics. As for being rotund, do some exercise and eat less shit you fat fuck"
But like any healthy union we were bonded together for eternity, because we didn't have a choice in the matter.
But now my body has gone too far, its stubborn and uncooperative actions have seriously put my marathon running hopes on the line. I have acute and constant pain in my left calf muscle every time I step down on my left leg to propel myself forward. Something you have to do quite a lot when you run,
"It's your own fucking fault you fucking mug" is the only thing my body says when I try to raise the matter with it,
"You can't swan around expecting to run 6 minute miles after you've done fuck all for 5 months, and then when we give you initial warning signals, don't fucking ignore them and carry on running! of course you're going to do more damage to yourself you wanker"
I had broken the first rule, always listen to what your body tells you, if you're in pain, stop. If you get fat, stop eating. If you're tired, go to sleep. If your penis gets sore, maybe try to curtail the 5 hour tantric wanks you treat yourself to on your day off. That sort of thing.
So I have been off the road, off my leg, and onto the couch. For a week I couldn't even climb stairs. The bitter irony of this whole situation is my usual love of doing precisely nothing. Being forced onto the couch because I can't walk would have been my go to option over anything, but now I am restless and depressed. Time's ticking away, and I'm not physically anywhere near ready to finish at the time I want, and that bothers me. It bothers me so much that I can't sleep, the thought of failure fills me with anger and indignation, and I hate myself for being so stupid, to be blinded by an obsession to beat my old time, and to ensure that I go faster than someone else.
I begin to run out of patience and decide to go and try some acupuncture and massage to try to relive the pain. Having never experienced the joy of loads of tiny needles thrust into my body, I am a little hesitant, but I've got to do something, so off I go.
The Chinese quack sits me lays me down, does some prodding and poking around my leg then says,
"Yes, your back very bad, we going to start there"
"But it's me leg that hurts"
"Yes" he says, then walks out of the room. I wonder if he's confused me with another patient, or if, in his anciently wise way, he's located the problem from my spine downwards. I begin to marvel at how complicated the body is, and how fascinating it is that a pain in my lower leg can be caused by something in my back.
1 hour and £90 later I float out of the place feeling excellent. I've had 40 minutes of relaxing massage and the sensation of tiny needles letting the pressure escape my body is wonderful,
"Now you must buy this medicine, and we do treatment 7 times to fix problem in your back and your leg" the quack is on me like a charity mugger in Covent Garden,
"If we don't do treatment, it's very bad for you"
I'm still in la la land from the massage, the heat, the needles, and the soothing music, my head's all over the place, but the fact that I've just been given the hard sell to procure some herbal tea, herbal leg wrap, and another 6 session of this, wakes me out of my soft cocoon, and straight into 'he's trying to cheat me' mode,
"I have got to do the marathon in 4 weeks, I don't have time to do this, or the money" I say, the quacks eyes light up!
"The marathon! oooo! Then we do double course! you come in 3 times a week! you need more medicine!" as he reaches for another boxes of the herbal stuff,
"no, no. I'll have one more session then see how we go"
I bound purposefully out of the shop and into the shopping centre, by the time I finish my shop in Sainsburys my leg's started hurting again. Motherfucking Motherfuckering Fuck Fuck!
After another week of rest and stretching I still can't shake this pain, and the start date looms over me like a massive black cloud, a bit like the wall of black in 'the 5th element'
I see the doctor and get a referral, then I find the best sports physiotherapist in London and book myself in. He takes one look at me, pulls my leg, cracks a few bones, cracks my back, then basically manually loosens all of my leg muscles by applying huge, agonizing pressure to my buttocks using only his thumb. If you want to have any idea of how painful this is give it a go on yourself, or perhaps a lover while they lie next to you.
From there he basically rips my legs to bits, then massages it all back in again,
"So, basically what you've done is torn the calf just a little, then you've also twisted your pelvis a bit there as well, then the alignment of your legs are off because your body has been leaning to one side to compensate, which has then caused more pressure and pain in this leg. And you've carried on running through this then have you?"
"Yes" I meekly replied.
"Then you're a fucking idiot then aren't you? The good news is that I've done your pelvis, and once the achy feeling has gone you should feel a little off balance as you correct yourself, but the pain should be gone, and we'll have you back to running by Tuesday, and you'll definitely be able to run the marathon"
I am so happy that for a brief second I consider noshing him off as a thank you, but I'll be seeing him for another few sessions so I decide not to fellate him to orgasm just that second.
Maybe after the marathon.
Sunday 27 March 2011
Tuesday 1 March 2011
I clear the air for all of us.
WARNING! WARNING! WARNING! WARNING!
Before you read the rest of this I'd just like to say something in all seriousness. I know that some people's parents read this, I know that family friends read this, and I know that my Dad has occasionally glanced at it, and told me that I use swearing as a comedic device too often and that I should limit it. I would advise respectfully that everyone mentioned above not read this post. Just bypass this one, and wait for another one. Please?
The rest of this post is FULL of swear words. Full like a people carrier heading out of Libya.
And the swear words are surrounded by opinions that will offend almost 80% to 90% of you. But I've warned you now, and I hope that you admit that I'm basically right. Here we go then, ready?
I let my body calm down and offered very contrite apologies to it every few hours, but my body is stubborn and refusing to play ball, so every run I go on, acute pain spreads through my legs and feet. The rest of me is OK, I've started a meticulous carb free diet, with raw veg and fish being the main staple, and the body is grateful, but the muscles still hate me.
As I ran one night I was nagged by a memory of a conversation I'd had with a friend when I got back form traveling. He'd turned to me and said,
"I wanted to read your blog, because I was quite shocked by some things you'd said to me before you left. I was shocked and quite offended to be honest, as I'd never have thought you'd say something like that"
"Really?" I replied, quite shocked that I could have offended this big fella,
"what did I say? and I'm sorry if it caused you offence but what did I say?"
"you said that all women were slags. all of them were fucking slags"
"Oh. That."
And when you take it out of context it does come across as being a little, how do you say? massively hateful towards women?
I hadn't explained to him the full theory, I hadn't gone into the full extent of how horrible and hateful I thought women were. How they do, say, and act in the most heinous way to each other, and mostly towards the men they claim to love. I just said it in passing and forgotten about it. But now maybe the time is right to explain why I think all women are slags.
Firstly, I don't mean that they, maybe I should start using the word you? in case you are a women, reader. I don't mean that you are all sexually promiscuous, and happy to drop your draws to anyone, anytime, irrespective of your boyfriend, fiance, or husband. Although a lot of you have haven't you? You slags. But I don't mean that. What I mean is that you act in a way that is reprehensible, you emotionally damage and hurt other people without a secondary thought. Fallen in love with a new man? Love him? Tell him so? see a future with him? lovely. Go and fuck his best mate while he's on a holiday with his Dad? course you do. Excellent. Well done. Same goes for the way you treat your mates. Really close are you? get on really well? almost like sisters? lovely. You need friends. Then you start slagging her off to the rest of your mates, then you start edging her out of your circle of friends? Why not. Lovely. well done.
I know a girl who has strung along a guy for a number of years, happily swinging from 'I want to marry you' to 'I just don't think that it's right' without even thinking once about the damage she's doing to his head, heart, and life. Or hers for that matter. That's a slag. not the men she's fucked in between, who cares about that? It's the disregard for basic humanity that I can't sit with, you love this man, he loves you, and yet you continue to flit from one to the other without a care or acknowledgment of the damage you're causing. The word slag is simply a umbrella term for all the horrible things that you do to people.
And it's everywhere, I've heard of certain acts that truly amaze me, levels of disgracefulness and heartlessness that would make Count Dracula want organize his own intervention and go into rehab. And I don't mean individuals, because I know that at least 4 of you are thinking that I'm talking about you. Which I'm not. Well not specifically, obviously you fall under the umbrella, but I don't think you're the worse one. Promise.
And I know you must think that I'm a hateful, embittered, lonely, sad, man? Who's life has been crushed by a small number of women, that has left me raging and furious to all womankind?
And you'd be dead wrong. I'm not sad that women treat people this way. I'm not angry at any women at all. I love women, they gave me life, and they hold the key to prosperity, health, and peace for all mankind in the future. Women are amazing, subtle, complex beings and I think you're all amazing, and when I call you a slag, I do it with a rye smile and a shake of the head. And do you know why?
Because all men are cunts.
We are all vacuous, stupid, callous, self centered, brainless, cheating, lying, cunts. We don't care if we have sex with you, then never ever see you again. We don't care, or even know if there's a problem between the two of us, because we're too busy playing computer games and watching TV, wondering if the 'bad mood' your in is going to stop us from having sex with you later that night. We're so stupid that we waste years of our lives getting wasted, instead of realizing that the future is not 2 grams of coke, 4 E's and staying awake till Sunday. The future is building on the deep, loving friendship we share, and turning the dreams that we had into reality. We're so fucking stupid that we should be grateful that you even speak to us, let alone let us make the sex with you.
It goes without saying that I am none of the things I mentioned above. I'm joking, I am a cunt. But nowhere near as bad as some of the things I've seen and heard. Men in relationships that they should be counting their lucky stars to be in, running off and fucking the nearest thing they can find when there girlfriends are away.
Men who simply cannot be on their own, and would rather string a girl along for a year, rather than go to the cinema on their own, even though they know they don't love them, and she does love him, and he just carries on regardless. Men who sleep with their wives friends without even the thought of the damage and pain it might cause to their children. Cunts basically.
Everyone is either a slag or a cunt, Thankfully you're all good people, and good people meet, and eventually bond with good people. And while we all have the ability to be a slag or cunt to one another, we know that we're not as bad as the rest of the people we don't like or love. And that's the key, at some point your loved one will have either-
Been a slag/cunt
Will be a slag/cunt
Is a slag/cunt
And it's about how you want to proceed with that, I'd rather go with the one that was a slag/cunt and move on from there.
This train of thought got me about 11 miles when I had to stop. I'd run too hard again and could feel blood coming out of my foot.
Ahem.....so there we are then. What I think when I run. I won't apologise though.
Before you read the rest of this I'd just like to say something in all seriousness. I know that some people's parents read this, I know that family friends read this, and I know that my Dad has occasionally glanced at it, and told me that I use swearing as a comedic device too often and that I should limit it. I would advise respectfully that everyone mentioned above not read this post. Just bypass this one, and wait for another one. Please?
The rest of this post is FULL of swear words. Full like a people carrier heading out of Libya.
And the swear words are surrounded by opinions that will offend almost 80% to 90% of you. But I've warned you now, and I hope that you admit that I'm basically right. Here we go then, ready?
I let my body calm down and offered very contrite apologies to it every few hours, but my body is stubborn and refusing to play ball, so every run I go on, acute pain spreads through my legs and feet. The rest of me is OK, I've started a meticulous carb free diet, with raw veg and fish being the main staple, and the body is grateful, but the muscles still hate me.
As I ran one night I was nagged by a memory of a conversation I'd had with a friend when I got back form traveling. He'd turned to me and said,
"I wanted to read your blog, because I was quite shocked by some things you'd said to me before you left. I was shocked and quite offended to be honest, as I'd never have thought you'd say something like that"
"Really?" I replied, quite shocked that I could have offended this big fella,
"what did I say? and I'm sorry if it caused you offence but what did I say?"
"you said that all women were slags. all of them were fucking slags"
"Oh. That."
And when you take it out of context it does come across as being a little, how do you say? massively hateful towards women?
I hadn't explained to him the full theory, I hadn't gone into the full extent of how horrible and hateful I thought women were. How they do, say, and act in the most heinous way to each other, and mostly towards the men they claim to love. I just said it in passing and forgotten about it. But now maybe the time is right to explain why I think all women are slags.
Firstly, I don't mean that they, maybe I should start using the word you? in case you are a women, reader. I don't mean that you are all sexually promiscuous, and happy to drop your draws to anyone, anytime, irrespective of your boyfriend, fiance, or husband. Although a lot of you have haven't you? You slags. But I don't mean that. What I mean is that you act in a way that is reprehensible, you emotionally damage and hurt other people without a secondary thought. Fallen in love with a new man? Love him? Tell him so? see a future with him? lovely. Go and fuck his best mate while he's on a holiday with his Dad? course you do. Excellent. Well done. Same goes for the way you treat your mates. Really close are you? get on really well? almost like sisters? lovely. You need friends. Then you start slagging her off to the rest of your mates, then you start edging her out of your circle of friends? Why not. Lovely. well done.
I know a girl who has strung along a guy for a number of years, happily swinging from 'I want to marry you' to 'I just don't think that it's right' without even thinking once about the damage she's doing to his head, heart, and life. Or hers for that matter. That's a slag. not the men she's fucked in between, who cares about that? It's the disregard for basic humanity that I can't sit with, you love this man, he loves you, and yet you continue to flit from one to the other without a care or acknowledgment of the damage you're causing. The word slag is simply a umbrella term for all the horrible things that you do to people.
And it's everywhere, I've heard of certain acts that truly amaze me, levels of disgracefulness and heartlessness that would make Count Dracula want organize his own intervention and go into rehab. And I don't mean individuals, because I know that at least 4 of you are thinking that I'm talking about you. Which I'm not. Well not specifically, obviously you fall under the umbrella, but I don't think you're the worse one. Promise.
And I know you must think that I'm a hateful, embittered, lonely, sad, man? Who's life has been crushed by a small number of women, that has left me raging and furious to all womankind?
And you'd be dead wrong. I'm not sad that women treat people this way. I'm not angry at any women at all. I love women, they gave me life, and they hold the key to prosperity, health, and peace for all mankind in the future. Women are amazing, subtle, complex beings and I think you're all amazing, and when I call you a slag, I do it with a rye smile and a shake of the head. And do you know why?
Because all men are cunts.
We are all vacuous, stupid, callous, self centered, brainless, cheating, lying, cunts. We don't care if we have sex with you, then never ever see you again. We don't care, or even know if there's a problem between the two of us, because we're too busy playing computer games and watching TV, wondering if the 'bad mood' your in is going to stop us from having sex with you later that night. We're so stupid that we waste years of our lives getting wasted, instead of realizing that the future is not 2 grams of coke, 4 E's and staying awake till Sunday. The future is building on the deep, loving friendship we share, and turning the dreams that we had into reality. We're so fucking stupid that we should be grateful that you even speak to us, let alone let us make the sex with you.
It goes without saying that I am none of the things I mentioned above. I'm joking, I am a cunt. But nowhere near as bad as some of the things I've seen and heard. Men in relationships that they should be counting their lucky stars to be in, running off and fucking the nearest thing they can find when there girlfriends are away.
Men who simply cannot be on their own, and would rather string a girl along for a year, rather than go to the cinema on their own, even though they know they don't love them, and she does love him, and he just carries on regardless. Men who sleep with their wives friends without even the thought of the damage and pain it might cause to their children. Cunts basically.
Everyone is either a slag or a cunt, Thankfully you're all good people, and good people meet, and eventually bond with good people. And while we all have the ability to be a slag or cunt to one another, we know that we're not as bad as the rest of the people we don't like or love. And that's the key, at some point your loved one will have either-
Been a slag/cunt
Will be a slag/cunt
Is a slag/cunt
And it's about how you want to proceed with that, I'd rather go with the one that was a slag/cunt and move on from there.
This train of thought got me about 11 miles when I had to stop. I'd run too hard again and could feel blood coming out of my foot.
Ahem.....so there we are then. What I think when I run. I won't apologise though.
The unwanted return
So.......where was I?
Ah yes, I'd vowed to never write this blog again, as I had nothing left to write about or say. I'd run a marathon and traveled through South America, and yes, I'd learnt a lot about myself and had made my peace with this crazy thing called life. But there was no reason to come back to this blog, I'd said everything I could possibly have wanted to.
But something happened reader, something that would profoundly change me, something that would bring me back to this laptop to catalogue my thoughts, problems, and issues with life, and also to log my trials and pains as I try to run another marathon.
I got fat.
"You fat Fuck"Not obese or hideous, just fat. I'd gone from marathon build to a fat fuck in 6 amazing, fun filled months. You don't notice, well you do, you just pretend that it's fine.
The excesses of traveling life hit me with a fat punch to my stomach, and a choke hold to my arteries. My promise to myself to eat a steak every other day for month had backfired, and resulted in me being very weighty when I got back to London. Loved ones laughed, friends playfully renamed me 'Fatty Potter fat fat' and a girl who I care very deeply for told me that I repulsed her. It was a shock to my system, luckily I had a rubber ring a blubber to protect me.
I got back and got a call from a charity, asking me if I'd consider running for them at this years marathon. I agreed immediately, knowing that I need goals and targets to achieve in life, and if I'm ever going to get off my fat arse and do something then helping this charity is a beautiful way of applying pressure on myself. This was in January, and the race is in April, I was in trouble but knew that I could do it.
First run back
Knowing that I was in bad shape, and knowing that I used to be able to run fast I set off quick. It quickly became clear that the feeling of running was different, I didn't feel loose and relaxed, I felt bloated and sick. With every forward step I could feel the excess of 5 months of steak, beer, chips, and rice bounce around my hefty belly. It felt like I had Maddie Mcann strapped to my stomach, except that if you consider decomposition I was easily carrying a heavier weight than her. You know, with her being dead and everything.
With every bone rattling step it felt like I was smashing into the hundreds of bottles of beer I'd drunk, I felt slow and unresponsive, like being out on a date with a special needs girl. This fueled an anger inside me, an anger that I'd let myself get to this position, and the thing about anger is that you make silly decisions when you're angry, so I decide to run faster. I did 5 miles in 39 minutes. I stopped outside my house and puked into a drain.
My body heaved a collective groan, and then the pain started. From the inside of my feet first, as the blisters decided to reveal themselves. then the calves and thighs, as they politely, and aggressively started making stabbing pains on regular, 3 second intervals. My chest was shaking with fury, the lungs and heart were sobbing wildly, like they'd just found out that they'd been conned out of their life savings by a heartless shyster. Then finally my brain, which at first was calm, then simply said,
"Well you fucked your body up, now it's going to fuck you up"
Then the brain started with a spine curling headache.
I am in trouble.
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