Correr es mi destino . . .
Saturday, July 30th, 2005With two bar exams out of the way (until MUCH further notice), I’m turning my sights next to this coming November, when I hope to cross the finish line in Central Park in under three hours forty-five. There are, of course, a number of obstacles in the way of this: the possible wedding of a close cousin in Egypt at roughly the same time (though this being on my Dad’s side, and him being my "easy parent", I don’t think attendance will be obligatory), my increasingly tricky right knee (I guess right knees are the new left hip flexors . . . you heard it here first!) and the fact that bar exam results should be released around then (let’s not even go there).
As to the first and second of these, there’s not much I can do at this point (except to maybe start sretching and warming up for a change and invest in some glucosamine chondroitin) and as to the third, well, the best I can do is to resolve now to not let it get in the way of doing everything I can to pass this February. I’ve learned not to underestiminate the vector value of a little bit of desperation; it’s gotten me up earlier than I need be on so many Saturday mornings like this. And today, it propelled me clear across Queens to Shea Stadium, around the Unisphere, and all-the-way to Homeplate at a pace of 6:10 per mile. It’s been like this for awhile, as you know, and it’s alot of desperation, anger, sorrow, and love to effectively revive, engage, and dispose of before most people have even gotten up in the morning. If I’ve been able to do that, then I know I can do this November and if I can do this November, I have no doubt that I can do anything and I won’t need the Board of Law Examiners to tell me otherwise.
