Every day, with a pain induced day or two off occasionally, I go to the gym. I run 5k or the equivalent distance one would travel from Boise to Chicago. Ultimately, my goal is simple. I want to run 3.2 miles in 32 minutes. I can do it in 35 now.
I have been doing this for a year to keep from becoming elephant man.
I used to run the old fashioned way. On the street, sometimes with a gun belt and vest on. Then to avoid weather and drunk drivers, I would go inside and hop on a treadmill and just haul ass. Today it is much different. The treadmill has a TV and Ipod hookups. There are drink holders on the treadmill but so far I have not been able to find a treadmill with an ashtray. Perhaps they will come out with one soon. I run with those bizarre looking Skecher shoes. The greatest invention of my lifetime. I have perfectly flat feet which these shoes correct. In fact, I even ordered a pair while writing this. Do not forget the coupon code. It will save you 20 bucks, JJ25FIT. http://www.skechers.com/?cm_mmc=affiliate-_-AT-_-allaffiliates-_-10&at=pm&CJPID=1932205
So each day I go to the gym. I go early to avoid those evil little Muslim brats as much as possible. I find a treadmill which overlooks the whole facility including the swimming pool. Then I begin to set up camp. I put my Brita filtered water in one of the drink holders. In the other drink holder I put a towel. I like to chew gum when I run, so I've got some Blackjack I scored at the Cracker Barrel. I leave my Ipod in the car so that it is always fully charged. I place that on the center console. And because I don't like showering with a bunch of old nasty men, I carry a sweatshirt. When I am done running I strip off my t shirt, exposing my gray chest hair and man boobs, and then ever so quickly- I put the sweatshirt on.
It is odd that at no time during the shirt changing- does it appear that anyone ever notices.
Recently I have been eyeing this blond gal that works at the Y. I can tell she is nice because she smiles a lot. She is in great shape and I think she measures her weight loss in ounces. Sooner or later, I think, I will hit on this gal and see what's up. That day happened yesterday.
When I mentioned how nice she looked, she told me that she was training for the Robie Creek Run. For those of you who do not live in Boise, let me explain what the Robie Creek Run is. It is like running from Boise to Key West only straight up a mountain side. One year, during an extreme heat wave, everyone died during the race. They simply scraped the bodies off the road with a grader and put up some of those crosses. If you are looking for additional misery in your life, I have included a link here. http://robiecreek.com/
So not only is this gal in great shape, but she told me that she is only 39. Imagine my disappointment. I felt like some old felon engaged in lewd conduct with a minor. Thankfully she did not ask me how old I was.
Running is no longer the great misery it used to be. Every day when I get off the treadmill I hurt all over. This is exactly how I feel whether I run or or not. I am beginning to enjoy it. This is how old Jack the dog used to be before he passed along. Misery it seems, finds company with us sooner or later.