When I sat up in bed at 2:30 AM this morning, a thought crept to strike at the forefront, "I may not have it today." Both my feet were aching, a take-home prize of trouncing my Garmin step record on Sunday.

There is also the greater context of my immune system taking up arms to wage a war against the invaders. There's a bit of an upheaval in the conflict as we needed additional resources in the battle—from my perspective, it made me really tired so at 4 PM yesterday. So much that my mind would drift!

Oh, I shook my fist at that dang ol' circadian rhythm...and I neither could fault the smooth voice of City Planner Plays nor the Tolkien lore of In Deep Geek. No, a lava flow of burning mucous let me know the war raged on.

Thus, this is the pit I pulled up and out of as my feet landed on today's beach. Yes, I felt miserable, but knew not to fall to the sultry temptation to yield. As the themes to The Avengers and M:i-2 played followed by Creatures of the Night, this werewolf stretched his arms out wide and howled to the moon. Faintly echoing in the night air, a 90s arcade cabinet bellowed, "Test your might."

And yet, after my Chest/TKD segment, I felt tired. I never feel that way after my resistance—a good weak, but not fatigued.

Nevertheless, I headed out into the night.

When my feet hit the street, this theme of The 36th Expedition came on...

There is no time to waste
I've got that lightnin' inside me
This is how legends are made

-Sam Tinnesz, Legends Are Made

Changing the proportions of our bodies requires one thing. There's not a pill that we can take. A doctor cannot hand it to us. No, the only thing is the sheer force of our will. That's it. We gotta dig deep.

I splashed a little more paint onto the map of Barlett, specifically Barwick and the non-Starbucks Star Valley. I then made a return to Sleepy Hollow, a park that is becoming a favorite, especially with the light fog adding to the atmospheric ambiance. Unlike my treks in Williams, Sitka, and Anchorage, traversing through Bartlett can come off a bit like the monotony of a treadmill, so when something breaks up the edged yard and brick-walled veneer it is invigorating.

I had this in my headphones as I championed between the street lamps in my soliloquy of "rage, rage against the dying of the light."