“And games that never amount
To more than they’re meant
Will play themselves out.”
–The Swell Season, “Falling Slowly”
Miles Since Last Time: 99
Total Miles: 958
Not to brag or anything, but I have a bit of a fan at the gym. We have a special relationship, and I just want to take a moment to address…my fan.
I know you’re not strictly mine–you’re communal property actually owned by someone else and used by dozens of people a day–but I still feel possessive of you. You know, because America.
Seeing you is often the brightest part of my workout. The hours I spend with you at the gym are so special to me. Your presence is a comfort, and there are certainly days when I know that I wouldn’t make without you. The way your blades slice through the air is positively mesmerizing. The breeze you create? Heavenly. I can’t count how many miles you’ve helped me get through. (Well, I guess it would probably be 958, but you get the point.)
Is it possible that I’m overestimating your perfection due to some exercise-induced hallucination? I suppose, but I don’t think so. In fact, I think my overly perspiratory state makes me truly appreciate your gift to humanity.
Any time I can spend with you is time well spent. I don’t know what I would do without you, though I’m pretty sure it would involve collapsing and drowning in a pool of my own sweat while several dudes with large deltoids watch in confusion.
So, thanks, fan. For being an awesome fan. You’re the fan-iest fan I’ve ever fanned.
P.S. See you tomorrow. Or Wednesday. Tomorrow might be a rest day. I haven’t decided yet.