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My legs are angry adolescent boys.

17 October 2007

Wed Oct 17
9:00 a.m.
this run sucked so bad, I care not to say.

Ran 10 minutes trying to work at a higher speed, walked 5, tried to run 10 more…
FRICK MY LEGS HURT. As I was “walking” back to my apartment (and I must use that word loosely to describe my physical movement), it literally felt like my legs had to throw up. Like hot and woozy carsick feeling, only in my legs.
I tried to run, I tried real hard, but the whole time I felt like a mechanical toy who was running out of batteries. A little wobbly, a little stiff.

Down Summit I passed a homeless dude on a bike, with old hat, plaid shirt, scruffy old man beard. I was only mildly sketched out by him. Was full-on sketched out when I discovered he’d doubled-back and met me in Lot 7, where I’d shortcutted back because I could barely move.

What’s the deal, creepy dudes? I KNOW what I look like right now, and it is 100% gross.
I feel sorry for the creepy dudes who feel they are getting a special treat when they see me running in the morning. They’ve had a hard life.

Trying to follow Kevin’s advice for getting better at speed: you just have to run at a higher intensity, when you feel yourself working harder you’ll know, and don’t stop even if you want to. It SOUNDS so easy…but I think my 50 minute run killed me today. I hadn’t been sore walking yesterday, but man did my legs go “what? You want me to do that again? What the f*ck, dude?” and they’re still yelling at me.

My legs are angry adolescent boys.

Last night right before bed, I had my first paralyzing fear about skydiving. I mean I could feel it. I imagined myself free-falling through the air, no net, no ground, just sky…and my body seized a tiny bit. My mind panicked a tad. But…I guess that’s the point right? It’s all about overcoming my fears, stepping out of my boundaries, and doing something that “I would never do”. I’m secretly hoping that it’s super profound. That afterwards I’ll have a new outlook on life and passion toward creating with every single minute.
Or I could be so terrified I never leave my apartment again. We’ll see come Saturday.

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