A little over a month until my 3rd marathon. If there’s one thing I’ve learned along the way about training it’s this: Anyone can do a long a Saturday long run. It’s sexy to set a distance PR or beat your best half time. But race day finishes are born on Tuesdays. You wake up and your shins are baked, your knees creak, your hips are barking, and your feet are blistered. Put on the work boots, silence the inner-bitch voice, and grind out a shorty. Saturdays are for the girls, Tuesdays are for champions.

Hand up, I got absolutely drilled by Week 3 of the NFL. We will rebuild.

Ts & Ps for Ravens fans - Lamar has to play superhuman football for them to compete with the upper crust of the league. It’s simply not sustainable and has to be frustrating beyond belief to root for them.

5 minutes off my PR. We’ll go again.

Holy shit man, Klippsten is such a joke

Go for those who can’t.

America has lost its way

This Cowboys doc on Netflix is a masterpiece

If you can keep your head when all about you Are losing theirs and blaming it on you, If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you, But make allowance for their doubting too; If you can wait and not be tired by waiting, Or being lied about, don’t deal in lies, Or being hated, don’t give way to hating, And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise: If you can dream—and not make dreams your master; If you can think—and not make thoughts your aim; If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster And treat those two impostors just the same; If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools, Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken, And stoop and build ’em up with worn-out tools: If you can make one heap of all your winnings And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss, And lose, and start again at your beginnings And never breathe a word about your loss; If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew To serve your turn long after they are gone, And so hold on when there is nothing in you Except the Will which says to them: ‘Hold on!’ If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue, Or walk with Kings—nor lose the common touch, If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you, If all men count with you, but none too much; If you can fill the unforgiving minute With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run, Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it, And—which is more—you’ll be a Man, my son!

The Bank of Phil is humming, let’s have a Monday

Oh hell yes https://open.spotify.com/track/5gmv3BgePSYiHnPJgY7oTJ?si=aM9PZW0NSwOxTPc7uxT2QQ&context=spotify%3Aplaylist%3A2tbXy11tUrsHG7CzjBCzgX

Steady lads, more hash inbound

Stand-up comedians are the biggest contrarian indicator on the planet