Go Darke

Light thinks it travels faster than anything but it is wrong. No matter how fast light travels, it finds the darkness has always got there first, and is waiting for it

Daily Journal

6 minute mile

I’m dying.

Metaphysically. And in the more immediate like right now sense.

I was sitting in this hole in the wall restaurant yesterday. I go there for the Alabama chicken. (Although the coffee ain’t bad either) I’m not entirely sure what makes it Alabama-ish. The sauce maybe?

In any event I was deep into some cerebral reading material…

Yeah… small words and pictures… so basically perfect for me. Actually, I prefer Jocko’s children’s books to his adult literature. Probably because I am a children. Albeit 6’3” and 220lbs.

In the book, the protagonist is trying to run a sub six minute mile. I was like, yeah… I can do that. Easy peasy. Japaneasy. [Spoiler alert, I can’t]

I haven’t been running since I broke my foot. It’s still been giving me hassles and doesn’t feel 100%. Plus I stood on a broken pallet at work and a nail went through my flip-flop and punctured my foot. Not super deep, but enough to hobble me somewhat.

Look at me setting the scene for my dismal excuse for a sprint. Also, since I smashed my apple watch I had to borrow my wives for this timed event-de-excellence.

Ready…

I had done the math in my head. Calculating that when I was fit a comfortable pace for me was 10km/hr. Convert that to miles… eh… carry the three… yeah, yeah, I was sure a six minute mile was in the realm of possibility. (Math is not my strong suit)

Steady…

In fact if had a super power it would probably be hubris.

GO!

I sent off at a blistering pace. (like a harpooned walrus rolling down an incline). At the half mile mark I was heaving like a freight train. By the 3/4 mark I sounded like an emphysemic trying to suck air through a garden hose. (this would typical be the point where I had to pass the pretty girl walking her beagle)

I’m not going to tell you my time. But it was BAD. BAD BAD BAD BAD BAD BAD!

And then to top it all off I decided to have an asthma attack. Haven’t had one for years, which meant of course I couldn’t find my inhaler. So now I’m lying on the couch… trying to recuperate (and not go towards the light).

I’m nominally supposed to be watching the 10month old. (who seems to be eating a cardboard box) meh. It doesn’t seem life threatening. Also I can’t get up.

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