Chương 44: The Flow (2)

No, studying and moving at the same time wasn't enough for me to consider myself a training addict yet. No, not yet. Maybe if it was some weeks ago, before I discovered the flow and the potential chance of feeling normal, of reaching Nirvana. Maybe I would have considered myself a training addict at this stage But I didn't, I didn't, not yet. At this stage, the only thing I felt was bliss, and the sweet feeling of productivity whenever I finished a day with a good day of training under my belt. So no.

That wasn't the moment where I started considering myself a training addict. Before that, I looked at my papers, at my study of the language, and my theories about my disability, about me now believing that it may be a side effect of whatever magic is in this world. And that I should study it, that I should study magic to cure my disability Still, looking at my work. At all of my theories, I was a bit worried about being hyperfocused on the flow. After all.

I was back at 100% constant pain, even while moving with the flow, and I only felt normal some seconds -whenever reaching Nirvana- out of twenty four hours. Those stats aren't great. So I decided to do something else. I wouldn't puke water again. No no no, hell no I won't, not yet, not ever, not fucking yet. Maybe later, to do more of those tests, or when I'm ready, mentally ready I mean. Maybe I will. But for now, I would also work on something else. I've been noticing that... during my flow.

When I stepped forward, when I turned, or sometimes snapped sharply, my body lags. As if the flow, as if I wanted to do something but my body just couldn't. I don't really know how to explain it, but maybe an example will make it clearer. One day, when I was training the flow, sweaty and breathing hard after moving for hours without taking a single break. I was REALLY focused, I was practicing the flow, I was in flow mode WHILE practicing the flow. Flowception.

And during this mode, during this great training session, for some reason, the flow, who's always flowy and calm went crazy. It started normally. One step forward, one twist of my torso, then a slide back, and then RANDOMLY my body fucking exploded and tried to do a weird kind of deadly fast spinning elbow behind me. Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more. I was exhausted. So of course. I failed and fell down, after this, my pain.

Usually at 100% went at 105% It was for barely a moment, barely ten seconds. But I felt it, I felt the change. And it's not the first time it happened. One time, when I was training with my eyes closed. Alternating between open eyes and closed eyes, I felt wind carresing my skin. As if I was moving... SUPER fast. When I opened my eyes to see whatever the fuck was happening I fell down on my ass, slipping on my own sweat Those kind of moments are rare.

But they happened more than once, enough time for me to wonder if there was something I was missing with the flow. And that's why my eyes were focused on another theory of mine. On something that helped me deal with my pain for years..... exhaustion Ah... exhaustion, those last few days. Since I learned about the flow, I don't really workout anymore. I just go straight to training with the flow. After all... it exhausts me too, so what's the big deal if I stop strength training? Well, apparently, a lot.

Firstly, it would be useful to see how my body flowed around during my usual practice if I felt less pain, so exhausting myself before that would be great. And secondly, I still didn't figured out WHY exhausting myself seems to help me out that much. So I decided to do it. I put myself in a push up position. And I did my usual working routine. I even tried to use the flow while working out... and it felt... weird, broke it multiple times but it worked better than I thought weirdly enough.

How do you think my flow reacted after I tried to practice while I was utterly exhausted? I could tell you right now but it wouldn't be funny, instead I'll teach you. Remember what the flow is? It's me, listening the my body. That's all the flow is, it's me listening to my body. I listen to my pain, and I listen to my movements reacting to the pain, I follow them. And I get in the flow. That's what I call the flow. Now, do you remember what's my biggest challenge to get in the flow?

It's to hear the movement, it's to feel my movements over the RIDICULOUS amount of pain drowning every sensation. Now... keeping that into account, how do you think it felt to get into the flow when the amount of pain in my body was reduced? When I could feel my movement even more than before? It was insane. It feeeeeeeeeelt insane. For once. I had a physical practice, and I didn't need to worry about feeling too much pain. That was..... wow. I felt like a kid doing soccer with their friends for the first time.

Magic. That's when I slowly started to consider myself a training maniac. But that wasn't the MOMENT moment yet, no, the moment I figured that something was weird, was a week later. When I finally managed to use the flow DURING my pushups. It started. Normally. I did my pushups, one, two, ten, fifteen, then I started to feel the flow.

Because I was used to it at this point, I was curious about what it would do, how I would react, or how it would make me feel, if it would break while I did pushup or do anything like that. So I focused on the flow. On my body, on my chest connecting the ground. On the pain evaporating from my body the more exhausted I was. I know my record of pushups, it's 22, twenty two.

I thought my body would stop at twenty-two by itself soon, after all, I started struggling and could barely push myself into a plank position at twenty. But it kept going. 21, 22... 23 27... 36... 40... I don't remember when I stopped. But I do remember being on the ground, chest heaving, said chest on the ground, my arms bent beside me. Pushing against the ground as hard as they could. I wasn't moving, but I felt it. My arms, pushing and pushing, as if nothing could stop them. I wasn't even moving anymore.

I was just trying to push myself up for pushups, even if the strength wasn't here. I remember this very well because for the second time in my life. A part of my body was free of pain. That's when I started considering myself a training addict. I started using the flow everyday, whenever I could. I worked out as much as I could. Incorporating my usual workout with the slow flowy movement I usually do for fifteen hours a day. And when I need to go out? When I need to leave, to live, to eat? To do anything? Well.

It's very simple. I step forward, focus on the flow, and go forward. Living my whole life while training in the background. This. This is when I TRULY started considering myself a training maniac. And this is what caused this... weird situation. Why is my mom looking at me like that?