I keep going. “I knew if I asked Donnelly to run a 19k, he’d do it backwards, blindfolded, crawling on the fucking ground. The hardest thing for him isn’t physical or mental exertion in harsh conditions—it’s being told to sit down and eat celebratory pancakes knowing Farrow is about to go bust his ass in the pitch-black night.” We were seeing if Donnelly would complain. If he would ask or fight to be with Farrow. Spend two seconds back-talking, and that’s two seconds you’re not paying attention to what’s important.
