Heart, 3 August 2014
It is difficult to explain the feeling when I am in need. There is a very sharp sting in the middle of my chest. Its as though a highly viscous fluid, amalgamated with iron rods and a minty tinge, is gradually moving up and down my lungs. I can’t really call it pain because I love it. The same feeling when I try to increase my VO2max with lung bursting German drills.
The air sacks in my lungs try to gather as much oxygen as possible as though I am running low on my life support system on the surface of the moon. As my hairy chest rises till chin, I heave and then exhale like a blue whale, for eternity.
Breathing somehow works in curbing the sting. Sometimes I even exhale twice or thrice in one go. But it still prevails, unperturbed and rather unwilling to go away, engulfing my torso from deep within. I actually like this “horrible feeling” because it makes me want to channel it to something productive, like a 10k run till my knees give away.
Sometimes, it tries to pierce my heart with a gentle prick. And like a tattoo artist inserting needle into machine, it delves deep. The response to this stimulus are tears from my eyes. I try hard to resist but the floodgates eventually open, venting the imaginary lung fluid into the open. Consequently, the horrible feeling diminishes. But a highly addictive portion of it remains embedded well inside. I wonder if someone experiences the same.