I was running today and it occurred to me that the point of running is not the high afterwards, but maybe it is the suffering itself.
Haruki Murakami running
Martin Silenus was a poet on old earth that had a stroke in transit to another
“On Heaven’s Gate, I discovered what a mental stimulant physical labor could be; not mere physical labor, I should add, but absolutely spine-bending, lung-racking, gut-ripping, ligament-tearing, and ball-breaking physical labor. But as long as the task is both onerous and repetitive, I discovered, the mind is not only free to wander to more imaginative climes, it actually flees to higher planes.”
(Same paragraph features an excellent discussion of the power of words) :language: Hyperion
Man’s Search for Meaning by Viktor Frankl