Lesson 5: Nothing.

I'm broken.



I'm not breaking down, I'm not tired, I'm not sore, I'm broken.

I sleep 15 hours a day. Every piece of furniture I sit on I seem to melt into. My muscles don't seem like muscles. They are bits of marshmallow fluff, disintegrating as they are ignored by the chewed up conversation.

I crave things. Pickles, cheese, spaghetti, eggplant, cinnamon sticks; nothing that has ever passed my lips is enough to fulfill me. I'm full - I crave hunger. I eat nothing for almost a day. The next day I eat 12,000 calories. It doesn't make sense.

I'm broken.

I am clutching my knees, looking at my final split for mile 8. 5:27 flashes at me like a blaring sunlit alarm clock. Taunting me. I spit, stand upright, and immediately have to pee. I jog slowly over to a bush, realize I may not make it, and run faster. I barely get it out in time, and lean back in a dizzy stupor. Finishing, I look down, only to see a mixed pool of blood and urine, unsure of which has more.

I drop things. Spill everywhere. My hands aren't my own. These clumsy mittens shake after holding a dinner knife for more than 20 seconds. Who gave these to me? They're not mine.

I laugh off my embarrassment. "I'm just tired" I lie. I'm not tired. I'm broken.

It is said that training is like a vortex. A series of concentric circles, connected by my sheer will. The harder you push, the deeper the circles are pulled, pulled, pulled.......





And then released.




The anti-gravity mechanics work magic that is not supposed to happen. The further you fall, the higher you top out. The more force you're shot upwards with until you can do things physically that not even other athletes can fathom. The concentric circles work like a giant metal-rubber band and hurl you into the only place that you can accept success; in your highest dreams of achievement.

I park my car outside my house. I lean to tie my shoe as put on the emergency brake. My head leans against the steering wheel. I wake up to a beep of the horn as I slip down. I look around. It's dark. Far too dark. How long was I out for? My joints creek and moan, telling me that it was at least 4 hours. I get out of the car, walking to the house, regretting those 4 hours I wouldn't get back. I hope I enjoyed them.

The concentric circle philosophy has been time-tested. Fullproof. Limitless.

That is, if you survive.

Not very many people survive being broken.

I wake up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat. I am on the verge of tears, I don't want to keep going. I don't want to keep going. I don't want to keep going. I don't want to keep going.

Not very many people survive being broken.