Ah, 23 minutes of running…23 minutes of wonder. Sometimes I think of some crazy stuff while I push myself to my new limit. What? Like, what I’m doing on a treadmill, life, you know, that junk. Then it occurs to me how some things in this world can only be done by one person. How one person must decide to reach for new limits in order to maintain that fragile hold on what has come to be known as sanity. Then I realise I’m thinking about myself. That’s not so good. I don’t need sanity! I want to be a beast! A self-sustaining, self-motivating, auto-actualising monster of cold, terrifying consequences.
But I require other people to act as my standard.
OH GOD WHY AM I SO WEAK!?! So blessedly pathetic? SO HOT?
I’ll leave it at that.
The Second Base 
You should come play floor hockey tonight. Three hours of running will set you straight.
Three hours? Hmmm, maybe not. I must prepare for my 25th minute!