100s

Double-ought numbers ruled the day today.

700, as in the number of fires dotting the landscape of my home state here of California as of the time of this posting. The smoke lingers and builds, having no incentive nor any push to leave. The sun struggles to pierce this layer, and often looks more like a laser pointer in a dimly-lit classroom than the light-bearing and life-giving celestial body it normally is.

500, as in the number of cc's of blood for re-tranfusion that I donated to myself for my upcoming marrow harvest next week. Compared to be first time when I donated blood, the actual drawing went a lot more quickly, thanks to the good efforts of the staff. And in this case, the side effects of a running lifestyle (low heart rate) thankfully didn't throw a wrench into this donation; I had tried to donate after the first time but too low a heart rate and blood pressure sabotaged those attempts.

300, as in seconds I got to interact in person with M and B. That figure still might be overestimating it some, but even in spite of that mere sliver of time of personal interaction, I still feel sad that they won't be doing...

100, as in the Western States 100 Mile Race this weekend. The sheer omnipresence of the previously mentioned fires has canceled one of the biggest events in the ultra-running world. Both M and B were going to be first-time participants to this marquee event, and their disappointment that the hard work they've put in the past few months has essentially been trumped by the power of nature gone amok must be incredibly palpable.

200, as in miles I've eked out of my current tank of gasoline. I've been in the midst of an experiment to see how much extra gas mileage I can get out of my car by basically driving more smartly. So far so good, as I still have over half-a-tank left, and by informal calculations, I'm set to get around 10 more mpg than the original EPA estimates on my car.