There I am in the obligatory agro athlete photo that all amateur runners are required to take before the Covered Bridges Half-Marathon in Vermont this past summer. This is a fun shot before a fun race, but this photo is now a reminder of two unfortunate facts…
1) There are red highlights and then there are RED highlights. If your stylist goes too far, it will be painfully obvious in the emerald light of the “Green Mountain State”. I am not genetically a “Ginger Kid” and I must remember that.
2) I bought that workout top the day before the race in June, and I haven’t worn it since…or my sneakers. Basically, I haven’t worked out in any serious way since that race.
Before you get all judge-y about this break from fitness in my life calling it sloth or laziness, you should know that this was a carefully planned sabbatical! Exploring these two intense months of nothing for the sake of science is actually pretty noble if you think about it! So, you’re welcome!
As much as I would love to continue to this important work, I need to stop for the sake of my genes. Since college I’ve lost 60lbs by running, diet (Weight Watchers, the ONLY way) and going vegetarian. My genes have been very understanding, adapting to my new healthier lifestyle. They didn’t even allow me to gain any weight during this sabbatical, a very classy gesture on their part. So it’s no longer acceptable for me to tempt them with those grand ol’ days of TV watching, processed foods and extended hours in yoga pants and hoodies. I knew my genes were on the brink of going back to their old ways when Andrew called the other day and before hello I said, “I want fried chicken.”
So tonight I am heading back to the gym to use up my remaining personal training sessions for the year. My old trainer Bryant became very selfish and decided he had the right to leave my gym and pursue his own interests…pfff, WHATEVER! But he was kind enough to recommend a new trainer named Joy to help get me back into shape. Joy is built like Tina Turner during her “Proud Mary” days and I’m sure she could pick me up and carry me to each machine if she wanted to, but she won’t. I have to do that myself. Joy will ask me how my running is going and I’ll say, “Ummm, yeah…I’m not really into that anymore…” Then she’ll ask how my eating is, “Pretty good, pretty good. Oh, have you tried the Oreo Fudgees yet?!”
Anyphway, I thought you should know where I’ll be tonight…just in case I die.
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