Every once in a good while something mean takes over and I find myself hankering for some ol’ timey self-destruction. That is, the urge to wholly obliterate myself. To confect something describable only as heinous, twisted as a thumbscrew; and then to work that something until I feel good and satisfied—which is to say until my faculties are scattered into a frenzy and my body reduced to a mash.
Is it ever for good reason? Sometimes, yes. Most times, probably not. Don’t matter though. Because sometimes we get the green light. That is, things are well oiled, and the machine is finely calibrated for a richly deserved ass kicking.
When timed properly, the proverbial smack down is quite often to the good. The outcome is surely as profound as the premises! Fat is blasted, the muscle making machinery is sparked, and you walk out of the gym feeling naturally enhanced, smiling like Bob.
Besides, there’s something to be said about redlining yourself from time to time, you know, just to see if you got the stuff. Testing your mettle, so to speak.