September 27, 2008

• Jogging

  Today I wanted to burn off some calories so I went jogging for the first time in a long, long time.  I began my ordeal with some pre-jogging streching exercises.  Then, having successfully completed my bend-overs and ankle rotations, I felt pumped up enough to delude myself into thinking that what I was about to do was a good idea.  I turned around, waved at my dog who was looking at me out the window, and didn't look back. 

  The first 100 feet went wonderfully.  At about foot number 101, I started to realize the true value of oxygen in our world.  Immediately, I wanted to back home and give up, but I wanted to hide from my wife the fact that she is married to a man who is in worse shape than his grandfather (who has been dead for five years, by the way).  As such, I had no choice but to continue jogging - or "stumbling" as it would have looked to a bystander.  After what seemed like an eternity, I reached the 200 foot mark. 

  By foot number 201, I started yelling at random cars passing by -- "For the love of God, call 911!"  Actually, I don't know if I was really yelling because hallucinations had long since beset my mind. The streets were fairly quiet so I'm sure I was just feeling embarassed, but I felt as though every single one of my neighbors were peeking out their windows and laughing at the thirtysomething crazy man in jogging wear. 

  By foot number 300 I had had enough.  I decided to stop, lay down, and not move until the police came and hauled me away or stray dogs started to gnaw at my face, whichever came first. My shirt was soaking wet and I was breathing heavier than Darth Vader so at least I looked as if I had jogged for a long time. I was hoping that on my way home someone would ask me how far I jogged, to which I would have flippently answered: "half marathon."  But alas, the only living creatures I encountered were birds and flies, all of which were probably laughing at my out-of-shapedness.

  By some miracle, I made it home.  I was gone for so short a time period that I don't  think my wife even noticed that I had been out "jogging."  The only other being to greet me on my miraculous and triumphant return was my dog, but he yawned and went back to sleep.  After a 96 minute shower I felt better again and I was able to confirm that my lungs had not, as I had feared, distinegrated into dust.  I may actually try "jogging" again tomorrow...someone please talk me out of it.        

  • 8:29 pm
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