Almost two weeks have passed since Andrew Bumbalough ran a sub-four minute mile at the Giegengack Invitational, but you probably don’t know anymore about the easy going Tennessean than you did before he raced into the upper echelon of track and field forever.

I spent most of the early part of the week wandering in an existential funk. As fantastic as Super Bowl XLII was, I couldn’t get my mind around it. I had no allegiance to either team, nor did I particularly care who won. But I felt like I, as a football fan, was Pope Urban VII, Tom Coughlin was Galileo, and I’d just been told the earth was not the center of the universe.

I hate numbers — always have. Multiplication tables were the bane of my existence in third grade, algebra II nearly granted me two sophomore years of high school and math modeling — despite being labeled as an “easy” math credit — ate away at me through the entirety of fall semester junior year.