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22 minutes in, an eternity to go.
22 minutes in, an eternity to go.
03/06/12 at 03:05 AM by RyanFTW
It felt like a month ago, twenty two minutes would be some kind of impossibility. Running twenty two minutes straight? You have to be shitting me. Cue today, where I'm heaving like a champ. The end of "Mountaineer" (No Trigger) had signaled the end of my run. Two miles in twenty two minutes. In real life, that's extremely slow. In my head though, I'm freaking king of the asphalt.

I began my trek back to the house. I always was about a quarter mile from the house when I finished, so I had time to cool off. That is usually the time when I think about the next step of the day. It's my focus time. Well, as much as one can focus while Red City Radio is blaring in my ears.

Unfortunately it was a day off. No plans. My worst nightmare.

I'm alone without my phone, and I'm stuck with my thoughts. The internal inquisition begins:

"Why are you doing this?"

"Working out isn't YOUR thing, Ryan. You haven't written a thing in weeks and you're being pathetic."

I don't know why I work out now, I feel like my stereotypical answer is that I wanted to look better for girls. Girls like a fit guy, right?

"Ah, balderdash! You don't enjoy the company of shallow girls." My thoughts told me. They were right. A shallow girl will never enjoy my presence in any mental capacity. "Shallow girls are pretty and you can fawn over them if you like, but they'll only disappoint you."

Disappoint me, why?

"Ryan, you've gone down this road. You've gotten into the room with some 'Hottie' and you do the deed and get bored. Then you limp in to the relationship for the sake of trying and you ruin everything because you're fucking bored and so self involved that you just end up looking like a sociopath. That's usually when they break up with you."

Ah, true. You little shitbag, you know me all too well. What about the good ones that are beautiful?

"They can do better."

Fuck you, voice in my head. Stop being right.

"You're not out here jogging to bolster your loins with more conquests."

Why am I here, then? For my health?

"No, Ryan, you stupid bastard."

Oh, yeah. I forgot. I jog to get my thoughts away from me for awhile. There is a singular goal in jogging and hot damn if it isn't to clear my head.

"Good man, I knew you'd get it!"

You're lucky you are my mind and you belong to me. Or I would take you out with a drill or something.

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