Drag King

When you’re tired, you’re apt to forget things. You don’t, of course, have as much energy. You’re awake, but “thought” becomes vague almost to the point of meaninglessness. What is thought anyway? As long as it’s just “words, or maybe a picture, going through your mind,” as long as they don’t have to actually accomplish anything or add up to anything when strung together, then maybe I’m ok. But there’s no getting around the fact that when I’m tired, I’m less and less me. There’s no will, no desire, no fear, and the fingerprints of my personality that would usually end up smudged over everything I say just aren’t there.

You’re never at any one place in the race. While you’re crossing the finish line in one one, you’re just starting another and probably rounding the bend for the second half of another. Resting ought to be a part of running just as much as running is. But when you’re tired you don’t think about where you are anymore — finishing, starting, middle, any of that. When you’re tired you’re all in favor of just drawing a line in the sand wherever you’re at and calling that