Are you ready for another brain-busting question: Would you rather be strong or fast?
To be clear, when I say strong, I mean really strong. Buff as hell. Strong enough to bicep curl a hippopotamus. Same thing with being fast—I’m talking about really fast—laying strips of rubber as you sprint around this ball of rock called Earth.
No! You may not have both attributes! Everyone wants both attributes. This mental exercise is all about the decision—not the desire to be superhuman. Let’s not be too ridiculous.
My personal answer to this profound question has always been: fast.
I’m not so sure I would choose to be fast these days. I’ll tell you why.
Things have a habit of getting in your way. Have you ever noticed that? You’re driving down the street, when the glint of eyeshine glows in the bushes a few meters away, or yards, or whatever the hell measurement you prefer. That’s right—a hoofed creature strolls right in your damn way!
Alllllll sorts of rude objects are waiting in the shadows. Their mission? To get in your way. Use your imagination, I’m sure you can think of a few.
See where I’m going with this? Imagine if you could zip-zap from point A to point B in a blink of an eye. Now imagine something gets in your way. Yeah—not pretty. Blood and guts would explode into the atmosphere like crimson fireworks.
Comic books and the media forget this problem. You mean to tell me The Flash never tripped over his neighbor’s cocker spaniel or a squirrel? Or shit, how ’bout a curb? If The Flash stubbed his toes on a curb; he would fall faster than he could react. His face would evaporate into a sanguine mist. The Flash would be no more—all because of a curb.
The worst thing about being really fast is, well, the faster you are, the more pronounced this “running into shit” syndrome will become. Hauling ass a third of the speed of light would be more of a hindrance, than a cool ability you can show off with. Since you would be bound to a two-dimensional surface, the chance of smacking into something is guaranteed. At those speeds, your body would combust into a snow of fleshy globules. And fire. Lots of fire. Did I mention you’d be dead?
Because you would be.
Needless to say, a buff individual would not have to deal with that shit. Plain and simple.
As for things getting in your way? Well…lift it out-of-the-way. Done.
Sometimes you can’t run around an obstacle, no matter how fast you are, right? Sometimes in order to push forward, you need to break down a few walls. If you happen to be really buff—there are no such things as walls. Only large, soft squares.
Please don’t spout any verbal nonsense like: Well, I’d just run through the wall.
Really? Run through the wall? Come on, man. Give me a break. What do you think would happen to all that delicate skin of yours? I’ll tell ya: ravaged by rusted studs and menacing splinters. At worst, someone who’s really strong would have bloody knuckles. Maybe a broken pinky finger.
You would have to constantly contemplate your every move if you were really fast. That thought process would actually make you quite slow. Even at short distances, it’s a gamble if something is going to be taking up the same space you’re trying to stuff your body into. Things like house cats or ugly mutts. Long distance travel would be suicide, unless you happen to be hauling ass through a dry lake bed. Then again, you better hope a big-ass lizard ain’t sunbathing where you’re trying to run.
No one can run with broken ankles.
If you were really buff, you could step on any lizard you want. Yes, you can be bitten, and possibly die (if it happens to be a Gila monster), but that’s IF you’re bitten. Squished lizards can’t bite (very well).
Right now my answer is leaning toward being really strong. It would be too much of a pain in the ass to really fast—simple as that. Sure, on the surface, being really fast seems cool. Once you start digging into the details of such an ability, the coolness evaporates into pure bullshit.