I had this idea in Wyoming that wind was actually a bunch of ghosts running past you as fast as they could.
Basically, what if wind was ghosts? I presented that idea to a coworker and was met with initial laughter and eventual horror. There’s a lot of wind in Wyoming. That’s a lot of ghosts. It gives wind power a whole new spin. Almost an ethical dilemma at that point.
But where are ghosts running to? Worse, what are ghosts running from?
No idea. Was just a fun thought to help pass the time when we’d hang out for a break. Same coworker, she once asked me what a tornado was if wind was ghosts. Did ghosts knock that tree down across from my place? Were ghosts responsible for pushing over big trailers on the highway? I don’t know. Maybe? We didn’t really have any answers for stuff like that.
But we felt a Chinook wind once and agreed that’s ghosts running up and hugging you.
Lately, I’ve been racing ghosts. Not against each other, but them against me. And not wind-ghosts. Another type of ghost. My own ghosts. And I’ve been beating them.
So, you know how in racing video games you can do time trials and try to set the best lap? Well, you can. And once you set the best lap, you can keep going while racing against a semi-visible, non-solid version of yourself called a ghost. That ghost is doing the exact same things you did when you set that record. You’re racing yourself. You see in real time how ghost-you handled that turn as you’re progressing into it. Or maybe you don’t because you’re way out in front. If you beat your ghost with a new best time, now that ghost is racing against you.
It always feels good to beat your ghosts. It means you’re improving. And progress feels good no matter how it’s made. Sometimes it’s in this word processor with each extra clickety-clack. Sometimes it’s the next dialogue box or page in a video game or book. Sometimes it’s in not being really, really tired after you push yourself to jog a little faster.
Sometimes it’s in waking up and having your first thought be “oh no, I have to workout today; I super don’t want to do that” but then realizing that not wanting to means you have to.
And when run time comes, you’re feeling up the challenge. That’s how I’ve been approaching the whole thing really – challenging myself, my ghost, on a daily basis – not only creatively, but physically. To see what I’m made of, you know?
You probably don’t. Let me back up. The next content drop has a little more than 5,000 words heading your way, launching with about half of those Wednesday in the newest Storygank. It’s an incredibly fitting number, given the topic of the Adventure that comes on Thursday, an earlier premier due to some light travel coming up, and the fact that I’ve been running them over the past week.
What started out as 30-minute jogs of a mile or two have really evolved. Lately, I’ve been doing a 5k-A-Day challenge that has literally killed me. Yes, I am also a ghost now. I am the wind. Ghost versus ghost races. But for real, I’ve been jogging those 3.1 miles and then some at a pretty brisk pace on this treadmill at a 2 percent incline. I kind of forgot to turn that option off, but at this point, why bother turning it off now?
The best part is that I’m been feeling good when I finish. Like, really good.
Especially when I’m waiting for my ghost at the finish line.
My baseline was like, 44:45 or something. Not bad, not bad. Around 4 mph the whole way. Then, on the next outing, I managed to nab a 44:34. An 11-second difference. That doesn’t sound like a lot, but 11 seconds is forever in a race. Current-me could have been standing perfectly still at the finish line gasping for air for eleven whole seconds before ghost-me crossed the finish line and started to gasp for his.
And when I beat that by more than a minute, a minute-9 to be exact, I was drained, yeah, but I was thrilled. It took some serious sprinting near the end. Maintained 6 mph for like two-tenths of a mile. I was 69 seconds into my cooldown before my other ghost finished. It took 80 seconds for my first ghost to cross.
I often rationalize this challenge to myself: Oh, come on Chad, you’re gonna sit at your computer for X hours today, you can’t go on a 45-minute jog? That’s usually enough to guilt me. Especially since I know ghost-me is forever jogging at a pace of 43:25.
That number can go down though.
Thanks for reading.