15 September 2009

190,080 inches

Oh yeah. I ran with Nikki, who is famous. Sorry, Nikki – she wouldn't appreciate that I mentioned that. But I'm name dropping here. Give me a break; allow me to bask

Anyway. For those of you who forgot to wear your calculator watch today, that's three miles. We took it nice and slow. I was haunted by the same-old leg ghast, so she graciously stopped with me twice for a couple minutes to (attempt to) stretch. I still, after all these years, don't really know how to stretch that sonbitch, particularly not without taking off my shoes.

Pushing your running limits is rewarding (I wasn't expecting to best a mile), but, as I discussed with Jeff (not yet famous), it is very frustrating for something other than stamina (e.g. misbehaving muscles, sleeping feet, burps, other bodily functions) to curtail your run. So the gauntlet comes down: I'M COMING FOR YOU, PERONEUS PIPSQUEAK.

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