Well, shit

Rob ran with me this morning and I said up front that I needed to run at my normal human pace and not his jet-fueled-kitten-screaming-down-a-hallway-at-3:00-am pace, but as we ran I thought I could tell we were slowly ramping up to the sound-barrier breaking point and I psyched myself into stopping just shy of 2 1/2 miles so I wouldn’t cough up a kidney. But I think all of the GPS satellites must be broken because when I downloaded our run from my watch to the app, it somehow mistranslated our Olympian 4:00 pace to a quite reasonable 12:10, which is silly because I can run at a 12:22 pace just fine and only a total wimp couldn’t bump that down to a 12:10 pace without a problem.

So the key takeaway here is: Running rots your brain and warps your perception of time and space worse than a Bill Barr testimony.