So yesterday, I completed my third and final mud run of the season. 13 kms and 21 gruelling obstacles. By the end I was stiff and bruised, my hands were raw and could barely close and I was covered in mud head to toe. For the last half of the race I was questioning my sanity for signing up and basically self inflicting this torture upon myself! Then I crossed the finish line and was met with a volunteer presenting me with a medal of completion and I felt like a warrior and swelled with pride. On the way home with the group I ran with, we were already discussing how we planned to improve next year, because we will of course sign up again.
It does have me pondering and noticing correlations. For instance with my need to submit and my desire for spankings. I need my Daddy to give me rules, even though I pout over having to follow some and test the boundaries of them. I don’t always enjoy a spanking in progress, can dramatize and insist I am on the brink of death when Daddy is warming my poor bottom, but a simple “good girl” afterwards has me glowing with love and pride and the knowledge that I will again in the future offer my poor posterior for a similar treatment in the future. Why to I love and desire those things that cause me such pain and grief in the moment and why to does such a simple thing as acknowledgment of a job well done have me begging to do the thing that causes me such grief?