Blood on the Tracks

Sitting on the underground. I hear the announcement; "Due to a person under a Central line train this train will not be stopping at Holborn" It seems strange, I'm sure it never used to be this way. When an incident like this happened passengers used to be told that the delays were caused by someone taking ill or the mysterious "passenger action". That way we were spared the true horror of knowing that somebody lay unrecognizable in the dirty trackbed.

I suppose times have changed. In the first Gulf war the British press and TV shied away from showing us all the gory details. It was all huge explosions and burnt tanks. In the recent conflict it was suddenly acceptable to show the dead and screaming wounded. In some ways we need to see the suffering and brutalisation that war causes. Just showing explosions and rubble is not the same as eviscerated corpses and de-limbed children. This could temper British the publics usual glorification of the whole shoddy business.

Sorry back to the tube. I heard the announcement twice in the last week. I'm sitting on the tube feeling depressed because I'm on the way to work, but some poor bastards' had enough and decided to meet their maker closer to the underworld than most. I realise that my depression is short lived and won't take me to that place. Someone's dead and I end up feeling more positive? It's a sick world. Maybe I should hang around crematoria, I'd be ecstatic.

Spring is here, I will enjoy it and do some serious running.

Fear and Loathing

I've agreed to run 6 miles in July to raise money for charity, a colleague has coerced me into it. I feel the need to get fit and a little weight loss would be a bonus.
I have the best intentions, I spend 70 quid on a pair of running shoes. I start running, I'm really into it, it feels good and it's free (apart from the shoes). My first run was two miles. I felt great. I'm not exactly well oiled or streamlined, so to run two miles without dying is an achievment. That run was with someone so I was being pushed. When I go on my own I struggle for half a mile and have to stop. Half of the effort required for running appears to be psychological.
In the last couple of weeks however my enthusiasm has waned and so begins a cycle of self loathing and guilt. I want to run and I'm capable, so when I put it off I feel sad and angry. It feels like everything else I've attempted;

University- didn't complete the first year twice.

German Classes- stopped attending half way through.

Applying for a new job- I can endlessly procrastinate and miss application deadlines.

Various other hobbies infatuations too numerous to mention.

A list of shame. I fear failing or rejection so much that I'd rather not try at all. Yet when I tackle this fear and follow something through its power over me is lost.
When I cave into the fear I feel temporarily relieved, "thank god", "I didn't have to try" and "I can get on with my life now". This is what I say to myself and that makes it OK. That feeling doesn't last long, that's when the loathing sets in. I surrendered, I gave in, everyone else can do it- why can't I?, I'm not a real man, I'm scared.
This is what happens when I let the fear win. I create a world for myself where I can hide and shut others out, where I am caged and restricted.

I'm 24 years old, on the verge of turning 25. I know what path can free me and that is to accept the fear and carry on regardless. So what if I don't understand something or get confused at least I'm doing. I can ask others for help, that's no big deal. I don't always have to be right, perfection is not my goal.

When I started this post I was raging and beating myself up. Now I feel affirmed. The rage has subsided. A nice bit of catharsis. My journey continues.