He's like a character from a David Foster Wallace novel:
"In which case the question about my training becomes is it too complicated? Not complicated enough? or much more likely is the problem that I’m not complicating it in the right way to achieve my goals. Or finally is it possible that I’m complicating it the right amount in the right way but getting screwed by a f***ed up hamstring that nobody on God’s green earth seems to know what the hell is wrong with it never mind how to fix it and after getting my sorry ass in 2:10 shape about 6 different times in the last three years and not being able to do a damn thing about it except wax lyrical about it to who ever the poor soul next to me when I’m drunk because my leg doesn’t work and I’m to damn stupid to fix it so I get to look like a complete idiot who is just full of himself and can’t in fact run at all?
A big part of me would like to believe that last run on sentence was very William Faulkner esc."
et cetera et cetera et cetera