personal best

runkeeper informed me today that i have made a new record in terms of monthly distance -- 301,2 km. it sounds like a lot at first but when you break it down it is about 10 km a day -- not that excessive in my opinion. it is apparent that i haven't paid that much attention to long runs, and now that i have taken them back into my weekly schedule i would expect the monthly distances to further increase during the summer. 


i am, however, more than glad that i have been able to amp up my mileage from the very sad 9,7 km that i ran in february 2011 due to suffering from a stress fracture. i remember how awful i felt at the time, and how frustrated; the envy that emerged every time i saw people running and not being able to do so myself. now, being ok again and being able to run as much as i please those feelings are but a distant memory, and the prospect of that kind of situation to take place again doesn't seem very possible -- and of course it is. the truth is that when you are healthy and in an ok condition it is so easy to take it for granted, the empowering feeling that nothing can touch you -- when in actual fact the situation is quite the opposite.


health is one of the most important things one can have. you can do your share for it, choose your actions so as to keep it up and support it, but there are factors involved you cannot affect; sometimes you get ill or injured even if you did your very best not to. i try therefore to be grateful of my health and my ability to use my body as i choose; i know that some day i might be less fortunate. for me, personally, the best way to express this gratitude is to do just that -- enjoy the freedom of movement my health gives me; it is, after all,  the best i can do. 

no name

he wakes up in the middle of the night to that familiar feeling that something is wrong. for a few seconds he doesn't know where he is, or when; this, too, is nothing new. slowly the acknowledgement of himself and of his surroundings enters his conscious mind and again he is able to tell the difference between his dreams and reality; and again the painful contrast between the two manifests itself with a force so strong it is difficult to breathe under its pressure.


he closes his eyes and hopes he would fall back asleep. it seldom happens, and he knows that the odds are he will spend the rest of the night in a state of undefined slumber, drifting somewhere between the world of sleep and the world of wake, tormented by that shapeless, vague feeling that woke him up in the first place. these kind of nights are the most difficult of them all -- it feels like being trapped when something is chasing you, unable to move when you know you should be running for your life. there is no position in which he would feel comfortable and not a moment of peace inside the mind that is already moving too fast, now beyond any possibility to control. as he tosses and turns plagued by the images he doesn't have words or even comprehension for,  every second feels like two, then three and four; and as time blurs his concept of himself does as well and he becomes one with the horrible emptiness that eats him from the inside like cancer.


in the morning he doesn't remember much; the only evidence is the numbing tiredness that has made a home in him and makes him feel slightly nauseous . as he gets up and makes his coffee -- black with two sugars -- he has the feeling that there is something he has forgotten, something that he should pay attention to. but he doesn't remember and  goes on about his day, managing the best he can with the weight of the lack of sleep on his shoulders; and as the day proceeds the feeling wears off and leaves behind a dull headache and a faint taste of copper in his mouth.

psst

i sometimes (well, quite often actually) think that it would be wonderful to know what i'm doing. to have a clear view of the world, a certainty of what and how it is and what is my relation to it; to be sure of myself, of my own existence and of the things i do. it would be remarkable to have a defined set of skills and be able to use them in a way that would be not only rewarding for myself but also somehow benefit others; to have a feeling of reason within my own being.


the truth is that most of the time i haven't a clue of what is going on and why; i don't know what i should be doing or why i am doing the things i do now. should i do more, or something different; what rules should i adhere to and what principles follow? are the things i seek actually what i really want, and if they are, is it possible to achieve them? 


and does anybody else have this same sense of being lost and profoundly confused every now and then? because it sometimes appears that most people have things more or less figured out; they make big, life-altering decisions and seem to be ok with them whereas i'm having difficulties in deciding what i want to eat for dinner. 


but i'm not jealous of people who know what they are doing. i just hope they would let me in on their secret. some day.

hide and seek

it is terribly important, i think, to have goals. something to strive for, or look forward to; dividing your life into a bits between these (positive) mark points would seem a bit easier a task to tackle than trying to handle the whole thing on one go. it is easier to endure some inconvenience if you know that somewhere in the somewhat near future there is something better awaiting -- which is not to say of course that one shouldn't try to make the best out of every situation.


if you lose your goals and things to look forward to it might be categorized as depression -- the lack of anything positive in sight is probably one of the most defeating feelings one can experience. but if you can somewhere inside find the trust in the fact that things will get better -- well, that's a whole different situation then.


what can sometimes be tricky is to have these goals but lose faith in them; want something but at times start to doubt that perhaps it is not attainable. when the feeling emerges one has to take a deep breath and re-evaluate the situation; for a while let go of the goal and observe how the future would look like were the desired situation not achieved. it can be difficult as these things in question hold a lot of value, and to consider the possibility that they would not take place can raise sadness, even anger; so one has to try to step outside of himself or herself and be objective about it all.


and most of the time it becomes apparent that there are plan bs, and cs, and even ds; that life offers, after all, so many possibilities that if one is not actualized, another one will be. or it can even happen that when re-evaluating the situation one realizes that the goal is outdated and obsolete, and that not achieving it doesn't really matter all that much anyway as there are other things out there. 


because there always is, you just have to find them.

a resolution of sorts

the apparent ease with which he had slid through his life seemed to have turned into a monotonous existence where the lack of difficulties was no longer enough to compensate for the loss of thrill. for a while now it had felt that this absence of any kind of friction only made him more agitated; that the lukewarm reality that was served to him if not on a silver platter at least on one made of very fine porcelain managed to only increase his hunger instead of satisfying it. this failure drove him to seek out the drama he so needed from places and events that otherwise would have not held it, leaving many things broken behind him as he did.  in his quest for reaction and real emotion he misbehaved, tore out things that should have been left in peace and acted out in a way that only pushed him deeper into his own folly; and he could not for the life of him understand why nothing seemed to be enough to scratch the itch inside that was driving him mad.

the destructiveness he now applied to everything he did increased with a pace that seemed exponential. it mattered very little what the people once near and dear to him said; he was, after all, in charge of the situation, merely trying to find a fix for the bleakness of what was his life. how could they ever understand? how could they relate to the agony he felt the moment he woke up, see the unanswered need that torched his insides as he tried to close his eyes and go to sleep in the evening? they couldn't, no one could; and he ignored their pleas and looked the other way when they stared at him with helplessness in their eyes.

and so, after numerous fruitless efforts they finally stopped asking; and by the time there was nobody left to even ask it didn't matter to him anymore. only thing that did was the seek for a rush, something that would have felt real; but it never came, and somewhere along the road it started to slip his mind what he was looking for. and as the days extended into weeks and months and years he was pulled further and further away from what he used to be; and as he one day finally forgot what the whole thing was all about, he couldn't have found his way back anymore even if he would have found what he had been looking for.

we love helsinki

i had a great weekend in many ways, also in terms of running. i did two longer runs, 26km on saturday and 20km on sunday, both remarkably easy and light. the run on saturday might have very well been the best one i've had this spring; running felt so effortless and fluid that i must have looked like a retard with the happy expression i had on my face during it. due to the good runs and the lack of any kind of fatigue or strain in my legs after them i also started to think whether i should run a marathon again this year -- i haven't been actively planning on it but it would appear that it wouldn't take that much to train for it from the current point. we shall see.


another thing i thought about is that one thing i will certainly miss about helsinki if and when i move out next year are the running routes. the shorelines, seurasaari, keskuspuisto, even töölö bay to name but a few-- it is quite beautiful a city when you think about it, and offers a variety of enjoyable paths to take. and, when the weather is such it was this weekend it is hard not to love this place.


... and then a few months later the reality kicks in. but let's not think about that now.

by the looks of it now

it starts with the question he cannot answer, a one he probably should have had the answer a long time ago but still fails to provide one. the question brings about doubt and the doubt brings about fear, then anxiety; all the what ifs and what nots and the nauseating amount of options and chances he has failed to take. by now the choreography is more than familiar to him, to the point that it doesn't feel like a string of emotions anymore but a tide that sweeps him off his feet; and as he knows exactly where it is going, it is useless to try to fight it. 


there was a time when he thought that the question wouldn't present itself to him. he was, after all, exceptional; or that's how it had seemed at the time. but somehow it got to him, caught him by surprise when he least expected it; and as it had he had realized in an instant that this was it. from that moment on there had not been a single moment when he wouldn't have been aware of its existence; and what was worst, he knew that the question was entirely and completely justified.


and as he puts on the mask of what he is the knowledge of what he is not is there; again he recognizes what he has become even if he doesn't know what he wanted to be. but what is certain is that the distance between the two is no longer within the limits of his comprehension, and the recognition of this truth makes him ashamed of himself. and yet he does nothing to close the gap, and after a while the question withers and finally shrinks; but it does not die, or go away, and the guilt his incapability to answer it raises in him makes him feel sick.

driftwood

which is worse -- to want things to take a certain path, all your life see yourself in a certain setting only one day to realize that you will never have that; or be in that setting you pictured and understand that it is not what you thought it would be at all?


or maybe it is the same thing.


i'm fortunate enough never to have had a dream profession or any other kind of big goal for my life. i have always thought things will somehow sort themselves out, fall into place; but i've never have any exact knowledge of what this will require. sometimes it feels that it might be easier to have a precise goal, something of which i could say that if i have this or achieve that, then i can be satisfied -- at least it would give a direction of sorts. now, without any such goal, it at times feels like drifting; and sometimes the lack of course is distressing. i tend to feel that i'm wasting my time, that i should be doing something else -- the problem is i don't know what.


and then i think how awful it would be to be in either one of the situations mentioned in the first paragraph, and i decide it's not so bad after all to be slightly at a loss.

magnifique

due to mother's day i visited my parents' place. the weather over the weekend was rather lovely and i got to enjoy some good runs, especially the long one i did on sunday. it is really quite nice to be able to run just as long as i please; that the length of the run is not determined by my physique (of course in some point it eventually would be but we are talking about the lengths of a normal long run here). i can take a detour and not worry whether i will be too tired to finish or even keep it comfortable; i know that i will. i know my body well enough so that if something starts to hurt i can determine whether the pain is such that it would require attention or just some passing discomfort; and i know how to adjust my pace and stride in accordance of how i feel. 


this is not boasting or exaggerating but the result of running regularly (on average i would say maybe five times a week) for over ten years. that is a long time, and i have enjoyed it all the way. i have ran seven marathons so far  which isn't necessarily a huge amount, but given that i haven't even turned 30 yet it still tells its own tale of my liking to long-distance running. i have never tried longer distances than that but i have thought about it, and i have to say that ultra-running intrigues me. perhaps in a few years? 


i guess there is no real point in this text, just an expression or a reminder of how absolutely fantastic running really is and how good it can make me feel.

win - win

i was in an ice-hockey match yesterday. i'm not a huge fan of the said sport but as an event it was rather entertaining; a full arena of about 13 000 spectators, the most of which were obviously finnish, guaranteed a jolly atmosphere as finland scored seven times in the course of the three periods (against france's one).


what i found to be most interesting was not the game itself or even the absolutely hilarious mascot (seriously, watching a dude dressed in white tights and a massive bird-costume dancing to the beat is much more amusing than it initially may sound) but the atmosphere; how the 12 500 finns all unanimously cheered for the team with flags and chants and wild applauding. there were men in suits who showed their support in a subtle manner with a team scarf around their necks; and there were the more visible and audible fan groups with painted faces, team shirts and ample amount of different kinds of related accessories. and both of the mentioned categories as well as everyone in between cheering for the men with sticks skating after a puck; a group of skilled individuals majority of the audience has absolutely nothing to do with and yet embrace as their "own", representatives of our small country. it was almost like a mass-hypnosis; and i have to say that it was contagious. 


i think sports in general has a magnificent power to bring people together. when you're watching a game, be it ice-hockey, soccer or something else, people tend to forget the differences that otherwise separate us in our daily lives. when your country scores  it doesn't matter so much if you are a CEO or work in the gas station; you share the same joy and that joy brings you an inch closer to one another. i guess to an extent this has something to do with a sense of nationality and identity, even self-esteem; but what would be interesting to know is how to expand from that. obviously we are capable of being on the same side; obviously we don't have to fight one another. if we have something we can all stand behind of, then we can work together and feel that same kind of unity as we do in the seats of an arena.

part of me

the role was rather well constructed now and he knew how to play it with a skill that could have been considered remarkable. the constant practice had resulted in the current state of things where in ordinary, daily situations it was next to impossible for anyone to tell the actor from his part anymore. his actions were smooth and mostly seamless, and the protective shield they allowed him felt strong enough for him to rely on. of course he slipped every now and then  - stared too long into the vast nothingness that opened in front of his eyes only, or forgot how one was to respond when engaged socially; sometimes the surface cracked just enough for the world enter and touch him behind the face he had created, and he would feel desperation so strong it made him nauseous. but all in all these incidents were fewer and fewer in number and were generally considered as a part of his somewhat reserved personality.


it hadn't been easy. it had took him years of observation and sometimes humiliating processes of trial and error to understand how he was supposed to behave and react so as to fit in even on a moderate level. but slowly he had, and as he had taught himself the proper ways of the world it had allowed him to build this role, this facade; it was the shell inside which he cocooned himself so that he could be left alone. he saw his body react, function in the life that he had made his own, and the detachment he felt to it was the final proof of his success. this part, this man - it was not him but on him, like a coat or a hat or a mask, completely separate from his true experience; and yet it was all that people saw when they looked at him.


and this he considered to be a true mastery of the craft he practiced.


he was aware, of course, of the risks involved. he could feel it sometimes as he withdrew inside the man he had created how it ate away from what he was hiding; how every word spoken with the mouth of the character that was him silenced his own voice ever so slightly. but on the other hand, the role was his armour against the world, and he could only sigh with relief as things that he himself could never have endured, things that were necessary and required in order to be accepted, seemed to be a child's play to the man around him. 


but sometimes, in the middle of the night when he was the only one in the house awake, he allowed the man to go to sleep and himself to emerge; and as he inhaled the air around him, experienced the reality that was not really his, he often felt a streak of panic - a suffocating pressure on his chest that made him suspect that things were terribly, horribly wrong and that what  was happening to him was a mistake of the most severe kind.


but then the man woke up and he knew how to deal with the anxiety; and he himself would withdraw and let him handle it.


he did, after all, know better.

frühling in paris

i spent the most of last week in paris. wonderful trip in a wonderful city, even if the whole was a bit exhausting -- paris is huge which easily results in quite a few steps taken, and added to that the daily morning runs and a flight which landed in helsinki at 2 am on sunday night after a 6-hour layover in frankfurt leaves me now basically running on fumes. it could of course be that the low levels of energy have something to do with having to have to get back to the normal routines consisting of getting up in an early hour and working and all that; but a few nights of sleep and things should get beck to normal. 

so i was thinking while running alongside a beautiful canal, why strain myself with running when there already is a massive amount of walking involved in the trip? one could argue that the exercise part of the day is being taken care of with that, but that is not the point -- at least for me. it might be if i ran because of some agenda, or just for the sake of exercising - because it is good for your health or whatever; but that is not the reason i get up and go every morning. i know i've perhpas mentioned this once or twice before, but i love running and i don't want to miss out on a chance to do it in new, interesting environments.  for me running is one of the best ways to get in contact with my surroundings, and during the years i have done so when travelling i have come across places and things i otherwise wouldn't have had a clue of. 

so what if my legs feel a bit tired -- i can always run slower, or for a shorter period of time; and i can always take the necessary day off when i'm back home. but to miss out on a chance to run in paris? no way.