It’s already mid-March and the weather is getting nice again. Nice weather often triggers my jogging gene to wake up and to begin mindlessly fantasizing about running and all the pleasures of running. Which, I might add, are precious few. I am currently a lapsed runner, one who has backslidden and is in dire need of repenting and mending his slothful ways. For a long time I was running pretty regular up until a year or so ago and then my drive petered out and achy knees urged me to think about doing stuff that didn’t burn a lot of calories. In short order I went from running five to ten miles a week to just running to the refrigerator and the bathroom.
But, before anyone accuses me of contributing to America’s unhealthy ways let me state for the record that running is a wonderful thing and I highly encourage anyone to consider trying it. Running gets you outside and is one of the best stress relievers I know. People will admire and respect you when they learn that you run because they will naturally assume anyone so dedicated to running must be a high achiever, a natural leader, and a classy citizen. Granted I am none of these things but I certainly don’t mind people thinking that about me.
I really ought to get out and run. Not so much because it’s good for me and good for my reputation but because I have a pair of two hundred dollar running shoes and, no lie, those things are the absolute comfiest things I’ve ever worn. Wearing them is pure joy and you just haven’t lived until you’ve spent some major moolah on top of the line running shoes and run around in them. So if I’m gonna meet my end by getting creamed by a wild driver or die of a heart attack I will at least have had the pleasure of dying with some very, very happy feet.
