The Five Stages of Grief (Jonathan’s Version) by Fatima A. '25
on a journey from New Hampshire to Next House [guest post]
The briefest context for who I am: Hello, I am Jonathan, a sophomore probably majoring in 6-1 and 7 who lives in Next House – my wing is either 3W or 4W, depending on who you ask. Among many things, I am fortunate to be friends with Fatima, one of the bloggers of all time, and I am also fortunate to have a somewhat interesting story to tell. Read ahead!
Prologue
January 16, 2023
04:15 [0 miles from home]
There is absolutely no reason that I should be awake right now. In less than 3 hours, I am supposed to leave Next House for Kendall Square, to ride the T to South Station, to take a Concord Coach Line bus across state boundaries to Salem, New Hampshire, all to finally walk 34 miles back to where I started. I have been told that a good amount of sleep is critical for such adventures, but instead, I am stressing over the fact that I have not checked the checkboxes that probably should have been checked yesterday nor answered questions that probably should have been answered yesterday, such as: Do I know where to board the Concord Coach Line? How will the weather be on the walk? What should I pack? How will I survive?
Long walks – explicitly, not runs – have always been my thing, especially since last year. During my first-year fall semester, some friends and I walked to Salem, Massachusetts (17 miles), almost reached Plymouth, Massachusetts (around 35 miles for our route – we actually only got to Kingston before it became too dark), and completed the Boston Marathon route (26.2 miles). I am no athlete, but my primary motivation has always been to test my own physical limits, and it is always nice to spend some good time with friends and admire the many wonderful sights outside of Boston. And best of all, the walk inevitably results in a very good story.
This long walk is very different. One, I do not have someone else to walk with. Alan Z. ’23 (another one of the bloggers of all time) dropped out last night because Mystery Hunt went long.01 thank you teammate for writing impossible puzzles Two, as I learned when I checked the forecast, the previously predicted weather of clear skies will instead be mostly snow, in fact nearly 3 inches, for the first half of the walk. Three, even if it did not snow on the day of, the temperature will still be near freezing, and much of the ground conditions will be icy. Though wearing boots will be necessary due to the cold, in practice they limit ankle flexibility and don’t have enough traction to secure footing on ice. 02 I have now been recommended to wear boots with microspikes. Four, as I learned when I checked the time, sunset will coincide with the portion of the walk in Middlesex Fells, which is a beautiful nature reservation on an ordinary summer day, but a desolate nightmare of barren trees for a traveler on a winter’s night.03 thank you calvino I do not really have a plan for how to navigate the reservation at night – I have shelved it as a concern for when I reach there.
Despite all of these bad reasons that would easily make this journey the most reckless series of events I have ever done, I have a few good reasons to go on the walk. I had already been planning something along these lines for the previous semester, but in standard MIT fashion, I ran out of time. IAP offered a good chance to take some time for myself, especially after dropping two classes. I was also looking to earn the bonus achievement of an interstate walk at some point, and New Hampshire is the easiest state to choose. 04 In fact, I know someone who has completed this walk before but under much better springtime conditions. The original plan would have been to walk to New Hampshire then take the bus back, but due to the shortened bus schedule on MLK day, the only viable option was to take the bus in the morning then walk back. This change lost nearly two hours of valuable sunlight, but there was no other option. 05 To be clear, there were plenty of other options, including not going on this walk. I simply refuse to acknowledge them.
I begin packing some necessary things: an extra long-sleeved shirt, an extra pair of pants, three granola bars, and hot water in a thermos. My roommate (Andy!) is still asleep, so I try my best to not wake him up.
06:30 [0.0 miles from home]
My alarm rings – thankfully, I fell asleep at some point looking up where exactly the South Station Bus Terminal is. As I take my earplugs out (necessary accessories when living in 3 deep), I am reminded that I am not the only one awake right now, though the people who are not really trying their best to speak softly are probably going on an opposite journey, the one where you go to sleep. I run through my mental checklist again – the one thing I seem to have forgotten was a paper copy of the route, which I print out to the first-floor printer.
The question of what to wear is extremely important. Because increased flexibility and decreased weight makes the walk easier, the optimum is to wear the lightest amount of clothing that stops you from freezing. Luckily, I allotted just enough time to run one test experiment to approximate this optimum: my first setup was definitely insufficient, but with the wooliest socks I could find and an additional hoodie, I can feel nothing, which is the best feeling to have when the outside temperature is -2°C.06 A recent conversation: 'We use Celsius because we’re real scientists.' 'Wouldn’t real scientists use Kelvin instead?' I take a picture of the Cambridge River, the first of many pictures. The sidewalk outside Next is icy, but hey, at least it’s not snowing yet!
One day I will learn that my thumb is not meant to cover the lens.
07:56 [3.0 miles from home]
I finally find the South Station Bus Terminal: you have to walk along the train lines to some unassuming door on the right hand side, then go down one set of stairs, then climb another two sets of stairs, and finally, you find this random parking lot full of buses, one of which I board. I am one of the last ones to board (thankfully the warning of “first come first serve” did not affect me). The bus is filled with some people already asleep, some people who are drowsing to sleep, and some people who seem just as worried as I am (for what? I don’t know).
The bus engine revs. We are about to leave, and I am about to fall asleep.
08:39 [33.9 miles from home]
Because Salem is not the last stop for the bus, I considered setting an alarm to wake myself up in case the bus would not stop for long. I did not set the alarm, probably because I had already fallen asleep by the time I would have concluded that setting an alarm would have been a good idea. The conductor thankfully yelled out right before we arrived, so I woke up anyways.
The bus stop is not so much a stop as it is a random highway exit. As I deboard with a few others (most of the passengers are probably heading to Concord), I am greeted by the smell of gasoline and the sight of a perfectly white parking lot. The cars have all been here at least overnight – probably people who live around here take the bus down to Boston for some obligation, so they park their cars here during their stay – and some of the people who have deboarded have begun de-icing the windows of their cars.
I take a few pictures, reveling in the fact that I have reached another state, though due to no work of my own. In just under 40 minutes, this bus has taken me from home to the middle of what seems to be nowhere, and over the rest of the day, I need to take myself back home. I take a deep breath: the game is about to begin.
If you would like, follow along with the original planning document and the Google Maps route.
1. Denial
09:20 [31.4 miles from home]
I am now walking on the Salem Rail Trail, after having escaped the town of Salem,07 what a game if you can even call it a town. The trail is a beautiful straight path covered with around two inches of overnight snow, which makes it not so beautiful for walking. But it is beautiful for the eyes, and it is even better because in many places I have been the only one on the trail the entire day, if the snow tracks are to be trusted. To the left are small buildings that line the rural zone between New Hampshire and Massachusetts, and to the right is simply wilderness. I have passed by arrays of trees with lonely branches and frozen ponds filled with cattails wearing snowy hats; everything is very lonely and very white. I can only imagine what this wilderness would look like in the summer. At some point on the trail, I cross back into Massachusetts (interstate speedrun complete), though I never learn exactly when.
09:45 [29.9 miles from home]
The Salem Rail Trail has given way to the Methuen Rail Trail, where Methuen is the first new town that I encounter on the walk. At this point, I think I have passed by more dogs than people. Zigzagging dog tracks are everywhere, and every once in a while, a friendly stranger walks by with one (or two (or three (or four)))08 that's not Scheme dogs – do dog paws not feel cold? So far, everything is still beautiful, though one concern has slowly risen: my feet are beginning to hurt. And that is really strange, bad, and a whole other company of negative adjectives, because I am only four miles into the 34-mile walk.
To be clear, I did (somewhat) train for this trip. Aside from the first-year walks, I have not walked any distance significantly greater than 10 miles, but every day, when I have the energy, I do try to focus and walk at a meaningful speed. Four miles per hour09 Generally, we (as in Google Maps and I) take 3 miles per hour to be the resting walking pace. is the gold standard for focused walking, though I have been trying to push my normal pace above four miles per hour. Things definitely have not hurt after four miles of walking though.
This does not bode well. But it is okay. I am 10% of the way there, and everything is still beautiful.
10:11 [27.7 miles from home]
I have reached Lawrence. This town is the textbook definition of New England: the brick buildings that were once textile mills clash with the copy-paste, wooden, three-floor apartments. There are more frozen rivers with quaint bridges, which does help, though it all still feels pretty monotonous. Lawrence is more urban compared to Methuen or Salem, which means there is finally sidewalk. I thank everyone who has woken early to shovel snow off the sidewalks – my feet have not been having fun at all. Having taken zero anatomy classes, pseudo-anatomically, I outline my current theory for why walking on ice and snow has been so painful. Most of the joints that matter when walking, such as your ankles, knees, and hip joints, are ball and socket or hinge joints, which permit rotational motion. Ice and snow force you to find your best footing mainly through translational motion. Translational motion and rotational motion do not mesh.
10:59 [25.9 miles from home]
Three separate signs have let me know that I have reached Andover. I am nearly at the first stop on the trip, denoted McDonald’s #1. Perhaps the most important lesson from previous walks is to know where you can find good, hot, calorie-rich food, and McDonald’s at least satisfies the last two conditions. In fact, McDonald’s likely beats all other establishments at the calories per dollar metric.10 This is a very important metric to me, though sadly I could not use it in 8.033 (Relativity). In the least productive manner, I am now thinking about Café Mami, the planned location for dinner (whenever that will arrive).
It has begun to snow, and unfortunately the wind faces me. Snow is beautiful when fallen, but it really does bite you when it hits your face. Everything else is still okay – my pace is good (maybe even too good), and I am rapidly approaching the one-third mark.
2. Anger
11:11 [25.0 miles from home]
Massachusetts Route 28 is the main artery of the journey. Most of it is a two-lane road without sidewalks, but at least it has generous margins beyond the leftmost and rightmost lanes. Once again, the salt trucks have done their job, so these lanes are perfectly clear and wonderful to walk on, or at least as wonderful as it can be at 11:11 AM at -1°C. The art of walking without sidewalks is something that I have been forced to learn. Some key tips (or personal opinions): try to walk on the left hand side so you are facing the drivers, who knows when you have to dodge; though it is a bit greedy space-wise, try to walk on asphalt instead of on dirt, mud, or snow, even if the road margins are not super wide – drivers are generally just nice to afford you enough space (read: barely not crash into you), and your feet will thank you later; and when you have to swap sides of the road for whatever reason, run as fast as you can (hey, that’s what Crossy Road taught me).
It was shocking at first seeing how many people live on the side of Route 28. I pass by many people shoveling snow, and there are some children making giant snowmen many times their height. The thought of asking some random stranger to take a picture of me also came up, as the very nice coat I am wearing has turned all white due to the snow – I guess that image will only be saved in the brain. The houses have kind of blended into the background. I am sure they would be nicer without the snow, but for now, it is all white.
11:37 [23.2 miles from home]
I forgot to take a picture in the first McDonald’s, a great sin. I ordered the classic two for $4 deal, which has a calorie per dollar efficiency around 170. Everyone else at the McDonald’s is drinking coffee – maybe I should do this at McDonald’s #3. I turn on my data for the first time on the walk and send a few texts to people to convince them that I am still alive.
The Whole Foods at Andover is warm. I see produce at reasonable prices, at least compared to HMart. I see tomatoes that I briefly consider bringing back for Fatima.11 Of course, I realize that she will then peel these tomatoes regardless of how she plans to eat them, which is one of the worst of tomato-related crimes. It is comfortable to be in a familiar place, to see people genuinely enjoying their day, and to see people who are not in a battle against the snow. But I have promises to keep and miles to go before I sleep,12 thank you frost and I am immediately reminded of how cold the rest of the day will be.
The walk must go on.
12:49 [18.7 miles from home]
Thank goodness something is new – I have reached North Reading, which is apparently pronounced identically to Redding, CA. The last hour has been the same three tasks on loop: (1) survive on the side of the road, hoping Ford F-150’s don’t hit me or drag up rocks that will hit me instead; (2) weather the cold, believing in the power of my decently warm outfit; and (3) take as many pictures as I reasonably can. I have been careful to not use my phone too much: the snowfall does not relent, and every time I bring out my phone to take a picture both the phone and the pocket that I shove it back into are getting wetter. The increasing rate of Google system alerts reminding me that “liquid or debris is stuck in the USB charging port” is concerning. The phone is not waterproof, and I do kind of need it.
I should mention one of the key parts to planning long walks: designing outs. As they say, things can and will go wrong, and you always need a way to get to a safe location. This route had a few outs, thanks to the commuter rail at Andover and Reading and the T/bus stations past Medford. However, the highway provides no easy outs, and the gravity of being in a situation where one twisted ankle from one misstep could mean relying on the extreme generosity of a kind, not-going-to-murder-me driver to get home – I do not want to think about it.
The snow continues to fall. Things are slowly becoming less pretty and more painful. But the walk must go on.
13:23 [16.6 miles from home]
I thought that I would like North Reading and the cities in general because they sound safer, but walking-wise, the cities have proven to be more difficult. Normally, it is better to walk on the sidewalks than the road margins, but during the winter, the road margins have much less ice due to the generous salting. The salt trucks have come by so frequently that I have begun counting them as they pass by. The sidewalks in the cities only have patches of safe ground: maybe a charitable store owner threw out some salt last night, or maybe some hardworking souls have shoveled out sections; otherwise, the rest is all ice and snow.
As McDonald’s #2 comes into view, I begin asking myself the overwhelming question: why did I choose to do this? There is always another day, there is always another route, and there is always another adventure. I am barely over halfway home, and though I think I will make it, will the journey have been worth it? But these thoughts are unproductive: I would rather think about the calories that I am about to consume.
13:26 [16.4 miles from home]
I send a few messages of great importance to Vincent F. ’24, an Andover native. He is the only other person I know who would support the fact that most of the trip is planned to be fueled on McDonald’s calories.
me: bro Andover is boring
me: Nothing to do
Vincent: Bro y tf r u there
me: I was in Salem NH
me: And i didn’t know how to get back
Vincent: Isn’t it snowing today too
me: yep
Vincent: How did you get there
Vincent: Don’t tell me you walked
me: uh some bus or something
Vincent: Ok good
me: nah walking back though
Vincent: No shot
Vincent: U r gonna die
me: I’m in north reading rn
Vincent: wtf
me: 54% way there
Vincent: U madlad
me: (heart react)
3. Bargaining
14:41 [12.5 miles from home]
I have just entered the heart of Reading, which is to say, I am about to enter McDonald’s #3. Not too much has been interesting between the two McDonald’s. The transition from the more rural outskirts into the main city has crept up on me. At some point, I looked back and saw nothing but snow, then I turned my head, and all the snow was either cleared or melted into the urban heat island. The snowfall has finally given up, which I somehow kind of miss. It forced me to stay alert, and chief amid my list of worries, I am beginning to fear that I will become too tired.
More than ever before, I feel like I must take a longer rest at this McDonald’s – I hope that a good stretch will solve the leg pain, but who knows? The caffeine from the mocha frappe certainly helped make the last hour better, along with breathing tactics, inventing new verses to Country Roads,13 I managed to remember all of the lyrics except the line 'West Virginia, Mountain Mama,' which feels like the third hardest line to forget. and other distraction mechanisms, but I know I can’t avoid the pain forever, with so much left to go. I am realizing that I am not as prepared as I should have been, probably, certainly. As I send what will turn out to be one of the last texts of the walk, I tell Phoebe L. ’24 that there are 12 more miles to go, but I should return home in good time. Maybe it was to reassure her, but maybe it was to reassure me, because the worries about Middlesex Fells that I pushed aside this morning are resurfacing. In a little more than an hour, I should be entering the reservation; in a little more than an hour, it will be sunset. Sure, twilight is not pitch darkness, but the prospect of walking in the middle of endless trees with a nontrivial chance of getting lost… I should not think about this.
15:14 [10.2 miles from home]
What does Stoneham even mean? These are the questions that I ask myself about 20 miles in. I can see the sun falling towards the horizon, quite rapidly, but at least I am in a populated town for now. After Stoneham, there will be no more easy outs until Medford – at least one hour of potential danger in Middlesex Fells. On the other hand, my friends have only told me how beautiful the reservation is when they visited. Maybe it won’t be so bad.
4. Depression
15:59 [8.8 miles from home]
This is the first of two times that I will walk off Route 28 after having first merged into it almost six hours ago. This is also the first of three times that I will cross Interstate 93, which feels very different now that I have walked by it. It is strange to think that soon car headlights will be the brightest thing around.
I overshoot the Bear Hill Trail entrance by 0.5 miles, losing some time tracing back. Middlesex Fells is all white and barren, as predicted. I am sure that the trail is more populated during normal hours, but right now, it is only me and the trees. It is not yet dark, luckily, and the snow has such a high albedo that it might not be as dark as I thought.
Into the woods!
16:10 [8.4 (?) miles from home]
I am lost. This is one of the few times on the walk where I planned to rely on the GPS – I didn’t need a GPS to tell me how to walk on Route 28 for a dozen miles, for example. However, the GPS signal is so inaccurate that I could easily be on any of the three trails that had split up a few steps back; the westernmost trail promises to keep me for an extra mile compared to my planned route. There are colored tags on the trees, but who knows what they indicate? I consider tracing back to the start because even though it is becoming darker, and I am becoming more tired, I can always follow the freshest footprints in the snow, which are mine. Maybe the starting trail sign would mention which trail corresponded to which color? I don’t know. The faintest voice inside of me whispers a dangerous idea: I have brought more than enough to stay warm throughout the night; I do have an out after all.
I begin walking much faster, despite every one of my two legs telling me not to, forging ahead in the general direction that I think is southeast. If I return to Route 28, I will feel a lot safer.
16:19 [8.0 miles from home]
I am no longer lost. It was not that bad, luckily – I probably went half a mile down a wrong trail, but I have reached a merge point with signs, and I am now following the Spot Pond Brook Historic Trail. Since the trails are not that clearly demarcated, especially with all the snow, I have been trusting the footprints ahead of me, which has worked well so far. The Spot Pond Brook, which I am now walking parallel to, resembles a skating rink, though I certainly wouldn’t want to test it now. It is almost beautiful.
16:23 [7.7 miles from home]
I am now on the portion of Route 28 that passes through Middlesex Fells. The road is significantly emptier than before, almost certainly because most of the cars merged onto Interstate 93. Speaking of Interstate 93, the sounds of honks and engines give me hope that home is near, though every step feels a bit more difficult.
16:45 [6.4 miles from home]
I have been welcomed to Medford (without an entrance sign this time), and now am crossing Interstate 93 for the second time. The view from this bridge reminds me of those early morning hour traffic broadcasts; what I would give for it to be the early morning and not the early evening. It really is getting dark now, but at least there is only one more vehicle-dangerous portion. I need to somehow cross three lanes to the exit lane on Forest Street – not really sure how that is going to work.
17:31 [4.1 miles from home]
The pain has reached my hip. For the last few blocks, I have been stopping at each corner to stretch, hoping this would somehow fix the problem, but everything feels so much worse than post-marathon or post-Plymouth, so I know it will not be that simple.
I pass the Ball Square T Station. It is so tempting to spend the $2.40 and tap out, but some idiotic voice inside of me says to continue. I do not know what is going on with my hip, so I change plans: instead of going towards Café Mami, I will stop at the first restaurant on the way directly back home, saving one mile.
The restaurant is called Oasis Brazilian Restaurant. I walk in and find a crowd of employees gathered around the cash register. I am out of breath, but I pull my two brain cells together to ask how ordering at the restaurant works – the waitress informs me that I have an option between a pay-by-weight option, an ordinary buffet option, and a buffet with barbeque option at increasing price points. Feeling optimistic that eating a good amount would provide me the energy to trudge through the final five miles, I pick the ordinary buffet option. On any other day, I would have found the food just okay, but in the moment, it tastes very good. The Brazilian equivalent of American Idol plays on five separate TVs, and I watch as diners come and go, with the exception of a Portuguese-speaking customer ordering drink after drink at the bar. It is nice, but as I read my phone messages, I am reminded that I am still not home. It’s just five miles, I say. Just five more miles.
17:50 [3.1 miles from home]
I am sure that this has been the slowest mile – probably 24 minutes or so. If I keep this rate, I’ll reach Next House a bit after 7 PM; this is still earlier than Google Maps, but not good. I have been trying a new technique: on each exhalation, manifest that some of the pain will be exhaled as well. Is this what meditation is like? At this point, I don’t know, and I don’t care because all I can think about is when I will reach the end of this cursed street they call Main Street.
18:33 [1.2 miles from home]
There are no thoughts. I am now less than 1.5 miles from home, distance-wise equivalent to a normal trip to class and back, but they do not feel equivalent in any other way. I think back to this morning. At peak pace, I could probably arrive home at 18:50, but I must contend with the fact every muscle is telling me to stop.
What else can I do except go forward?
You can tell how slow my reaction speed has become, because I saw the fallen Chipotle five paces back and only decided to take out my phone now. I wonder what the story is – clearly the Chipotle couldn’t have been thrown down because the lid is so far away, and would any sane pedestrian throw out Chipotle?
18:41 [0.6 miles from home]
Never have I been happier to see this slab of concrete. I am almost there, and I can almost swear that my hip is not going to fall off.
Is TeaDo open?
18:59 [0.0 miles from home]
The doors to Next House have been opened, by me. I cannot remember the last time it took me 18 minutes to walk from the Stud to Next House. I was supposed to take a picture of the river as some sort of closing callback to the first picture, but I am not walking back outside again. Not tonight, probably not tomorrow, and maybe not for a good while. 14 Narrator: All of these statements will turn out to be lies. He will end up walking four miles tomorrow.
I am supposed to feel triumphant now, right?
5. Acceptance
21:05 [0.0 miles from home]
4W has begun watching Mamma Mia (the movie) for the N-th time (see Alan’s blog post). I can still recall the memory of me entering this lounge to play the music video of Austin Weber’s rendition of Mamma Mia (the song) in front of a group of 4W seniors that I barely knew at the time. I am glad that it has contributed to this. I sit in the back at a bad angle to watch the movie, but frankly, I know I couldn’t have concentrated on it anyways. It has truly dawned upon me how lucky I am to be here right now. To be clear, this was not that dangerous in the grand scheme of things, but certainly it could have been worse. Having just badly summarized the entire trip to both Mack, the night-time security guard, and a small group of 4W, I know I will have to explain what happened today many more times. Maybe I’ll create a coherent story by tomorrow, 15 maybe I’ll even write a guest blog post but now I am focusing on how to live with this hip.
In a Messenger chat with myself, I am listing what to fix for the next long walk. Although this may have been the most reckless thing I have done so far in my life, I know myself well enough to know that the title of most reckless will be passed onto another adventure, but at least I can make it more enjoyable.
January 17, 2023
00:20 [0.0 miles from home]
I am exhausted, but for whatever reason, I am still awake. Half of me is still amazed that I made it back, and the other half of me still wonders why I went on this walk in the first place. I still have not found a good way to summarize the walk. In many ways, it was a ten-and-a-half-hour movie that only I witnessed, a movie in which I could intricately map out every detail if someone wanted. But to paint a wide brush and describe it under some umbrella idea? I don’t know.
What I do know – I have decided to go to lab tomorrow at 9:30 AM. So, good night to my intrusive thoughts, good night to Next House, and good night to all.
Epilogue
Most of the above was written after-the-fact between January 17th and January 25th in the form of retrospective diary entries. In these nine days, I have learned that the pain was mostly due to a strained and possibly torn hip flexor muscle, which has gradually healed. Life has moved on, with great appreciation and love to everyone who has helped me. The memory of the day is not so vivid anymore, but sometimes the walk is brought up in conversation, and the mental projector turns on, playing flashback after flashback.
Was the walk a good experience? I still do not have a good answer. It was fun in the moment and at many moments, but it was not so fun at every other moment. From my understanding, my leg should be normal within another week, and I want to say that my endurance will be stronger than ever. The dozens of texts to myself and my one-page diary entry serve as evidence that surely the next walk will be better. 16 I'm looking at you, Gloucester. The next walk will still have to wait though: between the first few days of recovering from the sleep and calorie deficit,17 Supposedly I burned over 3000 calories solely from walking, not to mention the calories from basal metabolism or heat regulation. and the next few days spent catching up on whatever it is I do now, things still feel slower.
Everything will heal with time, or so they say. Coming back from one of the more difficult semesters of my life, I have high hopes for the new year. The next week18 you can tell how long it has taken me to edit this has two large 4W-associated performances, namely IAP orchestra and the MTG19 Musical Theater Guild production of Heathers.20 some might even say it will be Big Fun My plan for the spring semester includes a reasonably rigorous class schedule that will hopefully also allow me the freedom for other (certifiably insane) adventures. In the bigger picture, I think I have finally answered the major question of what majors I should choose, and I have tenuously decided upon a career path. There is much to be done in the near future, and I might just be ready in time.
Take care everyone, and thank you for reading.
- thank you teammate for writing impossible puzzles back to text ↑
- I have now been recommended to wear boots with microspikes. back to text ↑
- thank you calvino back to text ↑
- In fact, I know someone who has completed this walk before but under much better springtime conditions. back to text ↑
- To be clear, there were plenty of other options, including not going on this walk. I simply refuse to acknowledge them. back to text ↑
- A recent conversation: 'We use Celsius because we’re real scientists.' 'Wouldn’t real scientists use Kelvin instead? back to text ↑
- what a game back to text ↑
- that's not Scheme back to text ↑
- Generally, we (as in Google Maps and I) take 3 miles per hour to be the resting walking pace. back to text ↑
- This is a very important metric to me, though sadly I could not use it in 8.033 (Relativity). back to text ↑
- Of course, I realize that she will then peel these tomatoes regardless of how she plans to eat them, which is one of the worst of tomato-related crimes. back to text ↑
- thank you frost back to text ↑
- I managed to remember all of the lyrics except the line 'West Virginia, Mountain Mama,' which feels like the third hardest line to forget. back to text ↑
- Narrator: All of these statements will turn out to be lies. He will end up walking four miles tomorrow. back to text ↑
- maybe I’ll even write a guest blog post back to text ↑
- I'm looking at you, Gloucester. back to text ↑
- Supposedly I burned over 3000 calories solely from walking, not to mention the calories from basal metabolism or heat regulation. back to text ↑
- you can tell how long it has taken me to edit this back to text ↑
- Musical Theater Guild back to text ↑
- some might even say it will be Big Fun back to text ↑