The Parameters of May

That title has a ring to it.  I may use it for something some day.

Have you ever seen a diesel engine run away with itself? It’s a rare condition, and one that only effects diesels. Diesels have no electrical ignition system, no spark you can killswitch and no wires you can unplug.  If they have air and fuel, they run.

Diesels are beautiful machines.

I saw a Caterpillar run off, once. It had an oil leak in the turbo.  The engine ran hotter and faster, sucking in more fuel and speeding itself further.  The engine blew through the redline easily, the governor has no say in a run off.  The motor the size of a car roared and it gave me chills.  It was like a demonic possession.  Everyone ran scared. Then it all came apart.  Luckily the timing chain failed before the connecting rods or some other, heavier component. It still destroyed the engine, but it didn’t kill anybody.

I got exceptionally, primordially drunk last night.  I don’t feel too physically awful today.  This is rapidly turning into a blog post.

  1. I have discussed the previous night’s activities
  2. I have hinted at a hangover while at work
  3. I have a numbered list for no apparent reason
  4. Nobody really cares

I hate this time of year. You just can’t count on it.

That is a lie. You can count on it.  you can count on it to have a bunch of holidays that serve to remind you that you are completely and totally different  from  and wholly unknowable to anyone who really cares about you.  It has cold nights that remind you of the luxury of shared body heat.  It has those irritating couple-like-objects sitting on park benches and seeming happy. It has lots and lots of drinking.

I ran ten miles on Sunday. That is a huge milestone.  It’s a distance that’s always been shrouded in mystery for me. It took all I had and a little more and even at ten I din’t stop. Finally my ankles and knees had had enough and I knew they were going to fail on me.  And it still didn’t work.

  • Something is wrong with me at the moment, I accept that.
  • I can see all the signs of some pretty weird behavior in my recent life.
  • Unless I cooked something for someone else, I haven’t eaten.
  • Oh, I’ll choke down a little bit of  something someone puts in front of me to avoid rudeness.
  • Roughly 80% of my calorie intake has been booze.
  • Somehow, I don’t even get drunk.

I used to live like this.  I spent years in just this type of life.  It’s like you’re addicted to intensity and burning guts.

Running has failed me. I took on a membership at a gym today.  Maybe I’ll build myself into a machine again. Maybe I should.

We’re all just robots anyway.

2 Responses to “The Parameters of May”

  1. 10 miles is a tough distance. i’ve stumbled through it twice – once when training and once during the half-M. start with some real fuel (that ethanol-based stuff is shit), keep breathing and see if you can control the runaway.

  2. It’s all mental. My biggest problem is pacing, lately. I can’t keep it slower than an eight minute mile, which is painful on a five miler but impossible past that.

    The lifting is taking a lot of running’s place in the old Stay A Little Sane Until It’s Green Outside Again race.

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