“Make friends with pain and you’ll never be alone.”
-Ken Chlouber creator of the Leadville Trail 100 Ultra Marathon
I must admit something.
I am an addict.
But I’m not willing to admit it’s a problem. Therefore I have no hope of a full recovery. And truth be told I’m not at all interested in breaking this addiction. I suppose this is not unusual. Many addicts have no desire to change. They like their life the way it is and prefer to keep it that way. And every addict has a justification for their addiction. As do I.
My justification is that it keeps me healthy. Healthy physically. Healthy mentally. Healthy emotionally. I may even be able to make a case for healthy spiritually. And like most other addicts, I feel the need to surround myself with other people with the same issue. Not only surround myself with them, but find new converts. I want the world to experience the liberation that comes with releasing themselves to this dependence, this obsession, this deep craving.
My compulsion? Exercise. 
I have not always been this way. I’ve always been active, yes. But habitually, even sadistically exercising? No. This development has been years in the making. I did not wake up one morning with the uncontrollable desire to hit the pavement in my Asics, the road on my two wheeled transportation or the gym to push my limits in an anaerobic induced euphoria.
I’m getting exited just talking about this. While writing this blog I’m thinking about my next workout. Today is supposed to be my day off. My legs are aching from an hour of plyometric exercise yesterday morning followed my a 10 mile run in the afternoon. But I’m craving more.
Years in development. Step by step. Mile by mile. Spinning class by spinning class. Weight by weight. Exercise started as a forced routine. Became a habit. Grew to an obsession. I’m not quitting. You can’t stop me. Because you can’t catch me.
