I went out for a run today. Running isn't something I'm new at, just something that I haven't done in a long time, and since there was rain, a thunderstorm warning, and gale-force winds, I thought that tonight would be a good night to get back in shape.

Now, for the more fit readers of this site, the moment that signals the end of a run might be a return to the starting point, a beep from a watch telling you that you've been running for a certain amount of time, or perhaps seeing a Kenyan gentleman being congratulated on the other side of a broken ribbon. For me, however, I know that my run is over, when I begin to feel like I'm about to keel over and puke up my entire respiratory tract.

You see, while I don't lead an entirely sedentary lifestyle, I do try my hardest. While I have to walk from the dorm to class in the morning, I try to schedule all of my classes in the same room, so that I never need to leave my desk. Also, I do things like creating a website, that requires me to spend long hours at a computer drinking sugary soft drinks and eating enough Pringles in one day to feed an entire Ethiopian family for a year.

In other words, I'm pretty damned lazy.

So why run? Well, I always buy my boxers a little on the big side, because they are more comfortable to wear that way. However, when those supposedly spacious boxers start to feel like a Tokyo economy apartment, you know you've let yourself go a tad much. Not that I am saying I'm fat, or big boned, or pleasantly plump; I won't be suing fast food joints anytime soon (although, if that one heiffer's case hadn't been thrown out, I would be working towards it). I just don't want to have the beer-gut of a 40 year old man, 20 years too early.

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See my previous posts for the requisite spiel about emailing me. Not that you read that part anyway. Thanks.

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