It’s off-season. By design. I’ve ticked every running box I wanted this year, and I’m content. Full. Satiated. The kind of fullness where the body and the mind agree: take a step back, breathe, recover.

And yet tomorrow, I’ll stand at a startline.
Under less-than-ideal conditions.

Real talk: my knee is still not what it should be. Not broken (I'll provide a more precise update in an upcoming Das Z Letter), but not free either. Like a handbrake that...