I am an athlete, a runner, and I’m watching some ridiculously dangerous extreme strong-man sporting event in which men are throwing boulders and catapulting themselves from trees. My mother tells me to get back to work and stop watching these men. I return to my jogging, going around a track with my sister who is not an athlete. She is complaining about being thirty. I tell her we will get something to drink when we have finished going around the track. I notice that the track is muddier where we are jogging, that the mud is sucking at the bottoms of my sneakers and slowing me down slightly. When we reach the end of our cycle, we break away to get our drinks. There is no water, however, so I decide to not get myself a drink and just wander around a bit, looking at the various concession stands wondering why parts of the track were more muddy than others.