This is why I failed as a scientist: I ran the Park Hill Loop tonight with minimal effort, constantly nagging myself to slow down—"Come on, back off, save it for those thousands tomorrow"—kept checking my splits only to shake my head until I completed the course in 48:46, with miles of 9:23, 10:20, 9:47, 9:52, and a relaxed, easy 9:25, and have not so much as an inkling how it was possible.
No, wait. That's not true. Truth resides closer to the opposite; after roughly 10,000 experiments, conducted in my six-foot, 135-192 pound laboratory since 1974, my inklings are in fact innumerable. A scientist would have eliminated most, and I none.
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