Why do I Enjoy Pain and Suffering?
“I am never doing this again” is bouncing around my head. It must be a few hours into my current endurance event- an ultramarathon, ironman triathlon, or high-altitude trek. Nevertheless, I know I will be back.
Why do I like to suffer? It is not an easy answer. Furthermore, I also do not know.
When I signed up for my first long-distance event, my primary motivation was goal-setting, and the satisfaction one gets from achieving it. The “x” on my calendar kept me motivated through tough workouts, helped me get fitter, and got me out of bed in the morning. Finishline: check.
Now what? Maybe I can go faster, further, higher. Maybe, but does it matter?
Months went by, and I signed up for another race — this time at a tougher altitude in a more challenging course. Again, I finished, but so what? When my wife saw me icing achy muscles and joints the next day, she asked me why. I just shrugged.
An increase in societal standing must be part of the answer. We go to great lengths, some positive and some outright destructive, to raise our status in various social groups. I did get a kick out of people’s reactions when they heard I propelled myself through 140.6 miles of swimming, biking, and running in half a day. It is an ego boost, and you know you are held in higher regard, so self-esteem goes up. As insecure as I may be at times, I just do not think I would put myself through that much pain and anguish for that boost, although I do not discount its impact.
Years later, with more medals and ribbons accumulating in my basement, I remembered the near-death experience. Prior to my endurance racing days, I fell ill and was given a minimal chance of surviving. Thanks to a team of brilliant doctors, I not only survived, but I recovered remarkedly fast. Could that have been the trigger? Having overcome that trauma, which I never quite processed, maybe I needed the pain to feel alive once again. Hours of suffering were my way to “rage against the dying of the light.” It is possible, but I still do not know if it explains it all.
The answer to most of our questions is: it is complicated. The harder we try to understand human behavior, the more elusive it gets. We begin to create narratives and become the heroes of our own stories. Deep down, we know those stories are not real, though. Those stories are not reality, to be more exact. The pain is real. So is the suffering. They are simple. Immediate. Unaltered by the ego. Maybe I climbed that mountain to see what was on the other side. I ran across that canyon because it was there, and I swam across that ocean to see a different sunset. That is as simple as I can make it. Or as complicated.
