The Proverbial LIMIT

And like many races, my days as a runner have been stretched to see one last effort. Just as I was about to call it quits on running, I ended up logging one more effort than I imagined I was able to tolerate.

A few days ago, I ran a ten miler with a few buddies. Red line would probably be a good term to describe my effort on this run as there were many moments when I found myself wondering if I would make it back to my car before dying of heart failure. As with many near death situations, one may begin to reconsider some of their behaviors. The behavior I was reconsidering was running. While battling through the sharp stabbing sensation in my heart region, I had pretty much concluded that I would no longer complete runs as this one. Rather, I would settle for a 4 mile trot as my maximum effort in the future.

However, a few days passed and this was not the case. My buddies called me up to run, and I had intended to politely decline their offer; however, there was a basketball court in the area so I thought I would just play ball instead. So, I show up intending to just clown around with my friends before they take off for their run; then, I would begin to shoot around. However, the scene was pretty crowded around the courts, and for some reason, I persuaded myself into running. Realizing I wasn't a true baller, I figured I would run a couple of miles first; then, I would have a reasonable excuse for playing poorly when I got back to the courts.

So, I begin running. The pace is surprisingly manageable; however, I am worried they are going to crank up the pace in the later miles. Right as I was going to turn around, something convinced me to keep going; I ended up running 8 miles. I remembered the feeling of being in a race, and trying to hang on to the leaders. Then, right when I would be about to throw in the rag and settle; I would tell myself that I could hang on just one more lap. Strangely, this procedure often repeated itself for several laps. That is one feeling I hope that every runner gets that chance to experience; the feeling of overcoming what they previously thought was their LIMIT.

Punchlines

Brace yourself for a few of the jokes that I have thought of over my few years in this world.

Why are they called cookies when they are baked? They should be called bakies

Who started calling chicken legs drumsticks? Didn't they know you are not suppose to play with your food? Their band probably wasn't successful because thier audience showed up and then left. Everybody got hungry when they saw them start to play with their drumsticks.

Knock Knock.
Who's There?
Doorbell.
Doorbell who?
Doorbell who hates knock knock jokes beacuse it feels left out

Who named the orange? It must be the only fruit named by its color. That person was really lazy. They were probably like watermelon, grape, apple, and pear are already taken. Screw it! I'm calling it orange. It's a good thing parents don't name children like that. Or at least not often. There's too many Matthews, a bunch of Justins, Andrew has been done. Screw it! I'm calling him White. I don't know anybody named White. If he has a sibling, their name will be Naval White.

You're always told not to run with scisors. How come nobody ever tells you not to run with a knife. A knife is a lot sharper than scisors. People might be dying out there because they haven't been told not to run with knives. Don't run with scisors, but; More importantly, don't run with knives.

Yesterday

I went running yesterday. Well into my third week of training, yesterday's run was my longest. I logged 55 minutes. This was a bittersweet triumph. It was a bitter moment because I still struggled through despite my previous two weeks of training; it was sweet because I made an improvement. The run was at a pretty good pace for me too (about 7 min miles). That is pretty good since I usually just trot. Furthermore, J-Wizzle and I threw down some fierce freestyles. J-Wizzles rhymes be so hot that the dogs whimpered away.