“Lump” by the Presidents of the United States is 142 beats per minute.
I need to take 142 steps per minute to keep walking at 15-minute pace. The coincidence is unnerving.
Which never made much sense to me. Wouldn’t unnerving be a good thing? If it’s on your nerves, and then you’re unnerved, wouldn’t you lack nerves and therefore be OK? Unnerving.
Since I can’t run, I’m trying to at least dial in a 4 mph sidle to get some distance in. How DO speed walkers walk speedily? If I were able to keep up a 15-minute pace, I could knock out 96 miles in 24 hours. In fact, if I were able to keep up a 15-minute pace, google maps says it would only take me 668 hours and 45 minutes to go from San Diego to Key West. (For some reason, google map says the route requires a ferry and crosses through Mexico. Quite a jokester, that google map. I’m guessing I would need to round up to 669 hours since I’m almost certain I would need a bathroom break at some point. And how does one count a ferry ride?)
So I’m just playing “Lump” over and over in the little jukebox I carry in my head as I limp through two silly miles. Am I making my knee worse by trying to walk/trot on it? Am I making my brain worse by obsessing on a band whose bass player and guitarist have six strings between them?
She’s lump. She’s lump. She’s in my head.
I don’t know. I just know I have to run or walk or do something to avoid going insane. These things happen. You just have to take your lumps. Even if it means running on a ferry while peeing off the side. We’re runners. We do what we have to do.
Is this lump out of my head? I think so …