A perfect run has nothing to do with distance. It's when your stride feels comfortable. You're on your toes trying to push it. Suddenly you realize you can open it up a bit more. You know you're at one with yourself and the environment. You're a little more alive than before you started.
There is nothing in the world more perfect than a slide rule. Its burnished aluminum feels cool against your lips, and if you hold it level to the light you can see God's most perfect right angle in each of its corners.
If I can show that a woman can run 26 miles, and run it well -- stride for stride with the men -- that is going to throw all the rest of the prejudices and all the misconceptions and all of the so-called reasons for keeping women down that have existed for the past how many centuries? Centuries of this stuff! And so I sort of chuckled to myself and thought, 'Oh, this is going to be fun! I'm going to turn the whole thing on its head.'
Nothing, my dear and clever colleague, is not your run-of-the-mill nothing, the result of idleness and inactivity, but dynamic, aggressive Nothingness, that is to say, perfect, unique, ubiquitous, in other words Nonexistence, ultimate and supreme.
Nothing feels comfortable in rock 'n' roll.
Your goal is simple: Finish. Experience your first race, don't race it. Your first race should be slightly longer or slightly faster than your normal run. Run your first race. Later you can race. You will be a hero just for finishing, so don't put pressure on yourself by announcing a time goal. Look at it this way: The slower you run the distance, the easier it will be to show off by improving your time the next race!
One of the cool things about ski racing is there is never a perfect run so it's hard to be satisfied in that sense, you can always go that extra step, i don't think any of us have the realistic goal of having the perfect run. Ski racing is the most variable sport out there, conditions change run-to-run, we only get one chance at it and the margin for error is tiny.
I think cricket is there in Usain Bolt's blood. Since I got to watch from close quarters, it was amazing to see him run up to bowl. The perfect delivery stride is understandable because he is a world champion athlete. But the manner - he loaded at the crease and then bowled the ball - left me zapped. He looked like a natural cricketer.
There's nothing that compares to being in a band with your best friends. We're so comfortable together, we understand each other. It feels, like, normal. Whereas solo period felt like I was trying to be something, and play a role, and pretend.
Doing nothing feels like floating on warm water to me. Delightful, perfect.
Your bat is your life. It's your weapon. You don't want to go into battle with anything that feels less than perfect.
Your bat is your life. It's your weapon. You don't want to go into battle with anything that feels less than perfect
Everest silences you...when you come down, nothing seems worth saying, nothing at all. You find the nothingness wrapping you up, like a sound. Non-being. You can't keep it up, of course. the world rushes in soon enough. What shuts you up is, I think, the sight you've had of perfection: why speak if you can't manage perfect thoughts, perfect sentences? It feels like a betrayal of what you've been through. But it fades; you accept that certain compromises, closures, are required if you're to continue.
Fartlek, or speed play, is variable-pace running that emphasizes creativity. During a 30-minute run, choose objects to run to - telephone poles, trees, buildings, other runners, whatever. Make choices that mark off different distances, so your pickups vary in length from 15 to 90 seconds, and modify your pace to match the distance.
There are so many times in one's life, when one feels he has nothing more to offer. But no, my river has not run dry.
We must be prepared to keep pace with our leaders, stride for their every lengthened stride.