48:46:41

I’ve always had an urge to test myself, to take risks, to haunt the edge of possibilities,
particularly when it comes to my body.

my legs still hold the scars I’ve earned as a 6+ year old learning to roller blade, jump spiky fences and hang upside down from trees (I have the cast to prove it)

as time went on, these impulses became more articulate;

I picked up strength training at 16, learned about and implemented paleo and keto around the same time,

as an adult I run and hike in minimalistic footwear (socks, basically)
I try out every sport that crosses my radar, at least once,
forever powered by an urge to just… move.

I don’t know precisely what percentage of nature and nurture is responsible for this side of me, but if I had to guess, I’d say that…

in a whirlwind of pure chance, I was born in an environment that provides such safety that yesterday I went for a run in the 45th hour of a 48 hour fast, just to see if I could.

and I can, barely.

to no longer feel satisfied doing what comes easily to you,
to decide on not eating for two days,
to run out of pleasure and not of necessity,
what a privilege…

the one thought running through my head in tandem with my feet yesterday was “I chose to do this, this is a choice, I want to do this”

I don’t know what I was expecting to learn out of this experience but I had the greatest reminder of all,
gratitude,

after 48 hours, 46 minutes and 41 seconds, I decided to eat, and I could.

I’ll see you tomorrow

today is day 214 of the year, there are 153 days remaining of 2022.