Thirty-Five
I’d spent a day negotiating with aliens. I’d had a few hours rest, then at midnight gotten into the most awful fight of my life. Because I broke under pressure.
Then we’d started running double heavy.
Double heavy takes more than fast feet. It demands attention to gravity’s slow, constant change. It’s not enough to set a cadence based on a song or a rhythm. You must precisely match the gravity. One step on the peak. One step as gravity drops. One step on the light. One step on the way up. One leg gets the worst and the best, while the other gets a steady average.
You’d think the fatigue would even out. You’d be wrong. Variable gravity wears on the heavy leg. Every so often you have to skip a step to switch legs.
Exhausting.
Get the rhythm wrong, and it’s like stepping on
