Marlin Perkins

Been thinking about my last post and there is no chance I will ever get near 8 hours ever again at Ice Age. This is what happens when you slip into the protoplasma of your own mind. It's like the kid in high school, not elementary school who claims they are going to be an astronaut. Or the hundreds of kids who told me they would have made the pros if they'd have went on to play in college. The people who claim they scored 1360 on the SAT, but don't know who Boog Powell was. Though I made a mental lapse, I still want to run well. The base knowledge of believing you can train to any peak performance is entertaining, but the numbers don't lie. I enjoy numbers and no person who is pumping out 5mph routinely for 16 hours a week has any shot. Don't read that wrong. In some daft way it makes me feel like I'm doing something. But that something has changed in that I have zero desire now to try a last man standing. It is time to figure out a new plan. I have learned to pile up slow miles. So now I am older and slower than ever. Faced with the choice of going out a second time today, or perhaps resting up a bit, I will head back out and probably grind my bones down to the nub. One knows this because there is a cup of coffee 17" away. Plus I am giddily off work which I hope to make permanent as soon as we print another few trillion dollars. Now I funny too. I think I could hang around busy parking lots all day and watch the magic unfold. So many dynamics and hypothesis to conjure up. This is where you see America in real life. On par with the old Mutual of Omaha show Wild Kingdom. The one place left where everyone entering believes they are on equal ground. You even get to apply your own rules. Later...sorry for the lame post.