I noticed several days ago that it was warmer in Port Hawkesbury, Nova Scotia, than in Levy, but figured that was a weird, isolated event. I remember once or twice last winter when it was colder here than there. But, heck, it's been warmer there for nearly a week, including this morning, when it was 68 in Levy and 75 there. Crazy. I jogged and walked the Levy Loop this morning in 25:13.
I'm not sure when walks first began to please me. No. Wait. I do. Once, in a I believe 1984, I walked 8,000 meters, a few meters less than five miles, in a few seconds under an hour, meaning I averaged slightly less than twelve minutes a mile, around Razorback Track in Fayetteville. After that, though, maybe not until this year. This evening's is an example. I walked the Chandler Street Loop, starting at about six o'clock Central, in 43:53. It didn't feel like I was walking fast, so I was surprised to see the first mile go by in 14:41. It inspired me to keep splits. Fuck, I'm bragging about a fucking walk. The second mile split of 14:47 was tremendous, since it's as uphill as two motherfuckers. I got the third mile in 14:26. You know, I wonder, they do have race walking in the Senior Olympics.
SENTENCE OF THE DAY from A Different Closet
Ingram knew it was conjecture among horsemen, and members of the sports staff at the paper, but the few remarks he heard were akin to metaphorical winks, forgiving, accepting.
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