It is very Zen. It gives me a lot of time to think, and I find myself wondering what Greg is doing at the moment -- swimming longer, maybe lifting wei...hts, working harder than I am.But he's training to try out for the Olympics. I'm not.My mind skitters away from that line of thought. He'd made his choice, I'd made mine. I miss him. I miss practicing with him, though it has been a long time since I'd beaten him. By our sophomore year his testosterone had kicked in and he'd put on muscles I could. He must’ve slipped down a foot for every two he scaled. Panting with the exertion, he finally reached the lookout, knuckles white to keep from falling. With the crazy undead soda-mancer bearing down on them, one fall and he’d be left for dead.Most of the day was spent like that: pulling himself to the top, having an in-depth conversation about their course and the obstacles ahead, then sliding back down to try and communicate what he’d learned to Svend who would translate his translation into. More

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