That's Fit

I want to say it's not my fault -- excuse my weakness and bemoan the oh-so-demanding trials of the nigh-on-unbearable workload that has, of late, permeated all facets of my existence. Woe is me, life is hard, yadda yadda.

But the truth is much simpler. I have strayed.

Since we last met, I have run but once. Last night. The time in between I spent convincing myself that I was too tired, overworked by exceptional circumstances, and justified in putting it off -- taking a little break. I kept thinking of this respite like it was some kind of reward, because I had "worked so hard," which is really to say that I'd managed to run 3-4 times a week for 3 months -- not actually much work at all.

I am not proud.

Plus, I think I'm a little bit fatter.

Not only had I succumb to sloth, but my indulgent, gluttonous betrayal of both myself and my sport was mired in hamburgers, and awash in beer, beer and beer. 'Twas the Super Bowl. And I celebrated. And I feasted. A lot.

Needless to say, when I laced up my running shoes last night, and fumbled for the right track on my iPod, it was a little awkward. We were like scorned lovers, fumbling and self-conscious in formerly familiar patterns, trying to set things right. And it's not like we had a stellar relationship in the first place.

But when my feet hit the ground, it was awesome. It felt good to be in motion again. So good, in fact, that I was just about spent after I'd run to the end of my road. It took some considerable willpower not to cash in, catch my breath, and walk. I managed to keep pace with where I was at last week, but I'd nearly coughed up a lung by the time I made it home -- all the while cursing myself for taking the time off.

So, runners of the Internet. Learn from this. Don't be a wuss. Remember, running is fun, but if you don't do it regularly, it'll suck. And you'll get fat.

This week I'm starting to train for my half marathon in February '08. Pray for me.