Pleasurable Pain

Two consecutive nights of 20 mins jogging with wimpy 2 kg wrist weights strapped on is extremely exhausting for one as terribly unfit as I. By the second night, my legs feel like lead and the heart feels like it's going to burst at the end of the run.

Jogging is such a brainless, monotonous affair but one that is very versatile. You can run anytime, anywhere and do it by yourself. And therein lies its innate appeal, the simple act of focusing on one's breathing and just running without the need to think, the salty tang of sweat, even the dull throbbing aches that flare and fade away... all a form of therapeutic pain.

What is it about physical exertions and the pleasure or gratification we derive from mild pain? At the risk of sounding like an S&M lover, which I regret to inform you I am not, when reduced to its most basic level, Some forms of pain beget pleasure. Which probably explains that ubiquitous phrase: No pain No gain. The forms of pleasure obtained naturally differ too; the feel-good sense of physical satisfaction obtained after a hard workout is different in form and intensity from say the orgasmic high during love making and the accompanying warm, hazy afterglow.

So I shall jog more. Because the physical aches and discomforts are but a small price to pay for the pleasure obtained.