In a massive worldwide event organised to celebrate some mainly very dull sports a man ran a very short distance faster than anyone has ever run it before. He was so far ahead, even though he'd only been going for 9 seconds that he actually slowed down for the last bit. The commentators thought he was really cool for winning so easily and having the audacity to relax his pace for the final ten metres, but it annoyed me. Because if he had kept going as fast as he had been going he would have taken even more time off the record. How much faster could he have gone?
Still it must be pretty amazing to know that you're that much better than everyone else that you can win the most prestigious race at the Olympics without even trying. The bloke who came second did his personal best, but was left in the wake of the ambling running genius ahead of him. I hope that next time he runs the last bit faster still rather than slowing down. Surely if time is continually shaved off this record, we will soon see the day when someone is so fast that they actually run 100 metres before they have even set off. When it gets to that stage I think I will start taking part, because then there will be actually no effort.
Or something.
In contrast to the fast running man I had a day of almost total lethargy. I am hoping that if I don't do too much that my rib pain situation might improve, but also that I will retain enough energy to complete my (now) eight remaining shows. I am missing the gym though and keep wishing I had jumped on to the stool a bit better. But there is no point regretting what has already come to pass. I might try going for a swim tomorrow to see if that's a possibility. But I might also go to some shows or something.
I didn't even stay out to enjoy the rowdy Edinburgh Saturday night. I was home by 10.15 after another enjoyable show and watched some telly, played some internet poker and then wrote this thing that you are reading now. Fireworks are exploding across town at this exact second, but I am glad that I am down the hill and away from the literal and metaphorical explosions that are going on in another part of town.
I felt a lot better for escaping the Fringe for a day (aside from my own commitment obviously) and may involve myself again tomorrow. Ten years ago staying in on my own on a Saturday night would have been unthinkable, but now it's a slightly guilty pleasure. I don't know if that makes me old, or more secure, or boring or a bit of all of those things. But I don't care.
There's not much for me to tell you about though. But I might take a leaf out of the running man's book and realise that I am so far ahead of the other shows that I will just arrogantly coast the last few shows. That can surely only lead to the respect of the world. And medals galore.
I am hoping they bring stool jumping in for the London games. I will be there with bells on.... although, I wonder if I will be up in Edinburgh in 2012. Most probably I will. I shall miss the whole thing. And I should be able to run 100 metres in -2 seconds by then as well! Darn.
