Today I completed Mission 9 (Zombies, Run!)
Today I completed Mission 9, running westwards as the glow faded from the empty sky after a crisp, cold winter’s day. The stars were coming out and the frost tried to steal every breath.
I think it was possibly the most beautiful running experience I have ever had.
He talks to you, you see. You're lost out in the wilderness, he doesn't even know if you're still alive, but he knows you had an earpiece when you left, so he talks to you. He tells you to come home, he tells you about life before the apocalypse, he meanders and stumbles and gets distracted by whether ice-cream rolls were cake on the outside and ice-cream inside, or the other way round.
He worries that you're dead and he's talking to a zombie. He keeps talking though... just in case. And anyway, if you ARE a zombie, at least he can annoy that zombie by reminding it that there's tasty food that it can't get at to eat.
It's dark, it's the middle of the night, and like many conversations in the middle of the night, his thoughts turn philosophical. Is it better to have died than to have to face the struggle of rebuilding a civilisation where no-one has emerged unscathed? Is it bad that sometimes he enjoys life more now, than he ever did before? Are we nothing but people left to remember? And if so, what happens when we start to forget names... faces...
He talks, a lifeline in the dark, and for all they tell him it's not worth it, that you're dead already, he believes just enough to keep going.
Thank you, Sam. Your words in the dusk were calling me home every step of the way. And I finished the mission running back East into the dark, the red lights of the car parked on the top of the hill playing the part of the tower light in the night.
“How does a running app have a fandom?” you ask me.
That was how.
I think it was possibly the most beautiful running experience I have ever had.
He talks to you, you see. You're lost out in the wilderness, he doesn't even know if you're still alive, but he knows you had an earpiece when you left, so he talks to you. He tells you to come home, he tells you about life before the apocalypse, he meanders and stumbles and gets distracted by whether ice-cream rolls were cake on the outside and ice-cream inside, or the other way round.
He worries that you're dead and he's talking to a zombie. He keeps talking though... just in case. And anyway, if you ARE a zombie, at least he can annoy that zombie by reminding it that there's tasty food that it can't get at to eat.
It's dark, it's the middle of the night, and like many conversations in the middle of the night, his thoughts turn philosophical. Is it better to have died than to have to face the struggle of rebuilding a civilisation where no-one has emerged unscathed? Is it bad that sometimes he enjoys life more now, than he ever did before? Are we nothing but people left to remember? And if so, what happens when we start to forget names... faces...
He talks, a lifeline in the dark, and for all they tell him it's not worth it, that you're dead already, he believes just enough to keep going.
Thank you, Sam. Your words in the dusk were calling me home every step of the way. And I finished the mission running back East into the dark, the red lights of the car parked on the top of the hill playing the part of the tower light in the night.
“How does a running app have a fandom?” you ask me.
That was how.