mile 30 and the mind checks out early, like a bored kid at school, but something else takes over, not strength, not grit, something… willing, like the body remembers what it’s for, and the wanting just… fades, not gone, just… quieted, and the legs know, they just know, not the how, not the why, just the… next, one after the other, dex would say i’m getting soft, but it’s not soft, it’s… surrendered, and that’s harder, so much harder than pushing, pushing is just… noise, this is… the earth turning, not me, not trying, just… being turned, and the burn, it’s still there, but it doesn’t matter, it’s just… information, not a stop sign, more like… a whisper It’s like the dishes. You can fight the unending pile, resent each new fork, or just… wash it. Not ‘accept’ it, god no, but just… do the next one. The water's hot, and the soap smells like lemons, and for five minutes, it's enough.