(no subject)
Every day the same routine. Wake up at 530, stretch out, 250 pushups 250 pull ups, 500 situps. Some more stretching, then on to breeakfast. he ate breakfast at the same time every day 6:12, give or take a minute. that's the way it had to be.
after breakfast he goes back to his room, more stretching, then some finger exercises, 1 finger pull ps on nuts and bolts. Sure it hurt, sure he bled, but whatever din't kill him only made him stronger. besides, that's how all the great climbers of the past trained. It's just the way it had to be.
after he was done with the finger exercises, he bandaged up if need be, then went outside to study the face. the solid concrete face of the side of his building. at first glance it looked flat and impossible, but on closer inspection yielded small imperfections. he could do it. he had made it most of the way before right? he only climbed every 3 or 4 days, and then only if no one was looking. That's just the way it had to be.
he casually checks around, making sure he's not being watched, then stars his ascent, his 978th attempt. the walls a good 20 feet high, and he pretty consistently made it to about 15 feet. he makes it to his usual spot, and stops to take a look, spots a small crack he hadn't seen before just about a hands length away, grabs it and takes hold of the face. he's now at a spot he's never been before, a slight leap from the top. he figures there's probably a multitude of fantastic finishing moves to this. but none of them come to mind so he leaps for it. nothin fancy. It all happens in slow motion, his arms falling away from the face, his legs extending, the complete separation from the face... and the final grasp at the top. he regains his composure and pulls him self stealthily over the top. That's the way it had to be.
he sprints across the top of his building to the other ledge. he often pictured it ending right here, the leap of faith to the ground that shatters his ankles. not thinking twice he leaps, hitting the ground, in pain, but not broken, he sprints to the fence, now only 100 yards away. A gun shot and a searing pain in his side bring him down. lying there, he thinks to himself, i could just lay here and live another couple weeks or i could make a run for it, it's just the way it had to be.
He stands, wet with blood and dizzy, but determined, even amidst the shouts of "no" and "don't do it", he faces his attackers for a moment, then turns and runs. that's just the way it has to be.
Death row is no place for a climber.
after breakfast he goes back to his room, more stretching, then some finger exercises, 1 finger pull ps on nuts and bolts. Sure it hurt, sure he bled, but whatever din't kill him only made him stronger. besides, that's how all the great climbers of the past trained. It's just the way it had to be.
after he was done with the finger exercises, he bandaged up if need be, then went outside to study the face. the solid concrete face of the side of his building. at first glance it looked flat and impossible, but on closer inspection yielded small imperfections. he could do it. he had made it most of the way before right? he only climbed every 3 or 4 days, and then only if no one was looking. That's just the way it had to be.
he casually checks around, making sure he's not being watched, then stars his ascent, his 978th attempt. the walls a good 20 feet high, and he pretty consistently made it to about 15 feet. he makes it to his usual spot, and stops to take a look, spots a small crack he hadn't seen before just about a hands length away, grabs it and takes hold of the face. he's now at a spot he's never been before, a slight leap from the top. he figures there's probably a multitude of fantastic finishing moves to this. but none of them come to mind so he leaps for it. nothin fancy. It all happens in slow motion, his arms falling away from the face, his legs extending, the complete separation from the face... and the final grasp at the top. he regains his composure and pulls him self stealthily over the top. That's the way it had to be.
he sprints across the top of his building to the other ledge. he often pictured it ending right here, the leap of faith to the ground that shatters his ankles. not thinking twice he leaps, hitting the ground, in pain, but not broken, he sprints to the fence, now only 100 yards away. A gun shot and a searing pain in his side bring him down. lying there, he thinks to himself, i could just lay here and live another couple weeks or i could make a run for it, it's just the way it had to be.
He stands, wet with blood and dizzy, but determined, even amidst the shouts of "no" and "don't do it", he faces his attackers for a moment, then turns and runs. that's just the way it has to be.
Death row is no place for a climber.