Last week LeBron James went on wine-drunk lifehacker Tim Ferriss’s podcast to talk about the day-to-day maintenance of one of the most natural wonders on earth: that is, his body. Among other fine-grained details, James said he listens to the “rain on leaves” sound all night long, and that he sleeps for eons.
But the more, and more, and more time that you get those eight – if you can get nine, that’s amazing. Sometimes, I even get 10 hours of sleep. And if I don’t get those eight to nine hours at night, then I’ll go home. I’m going to tell you right now, Tim, when I leave here, I’m going to go home and take a nap for probably about two and a half hours too.
Sleep seems to be the buzzword de rigeur among the thinkovator set these days, but it’s easy enough to see why it’d be essential for a guy still logging 35 minutes a game in season 16. Slumbering like that does have its drawbacks, however. Yesterday, a deeply normie LeBron wrote in his diary about some creeping feelings of washedness.
The washedness did not translate to the court, because later that day, LeBron would drop 42 on the Spurs, including 20 in the final frame to dig out of a deficit and secure the lead. In one four-minute span, he juiced San Antonio for 14 straight points, many of the transition freight-train variety, plus a pair of deep threes. It was normal late-stage LeBron takeover shit, which is to say, extremely not normal basketball shit that is all too easy to take for granted:
Strongly consider oversleeping the holiday party every day, maybe.