I’m thinking about getting back into running.
Thinking might be the operative word here.
I used to do marathons. Now I eat Marathon candy bars. I used to do 10ks. Now I weigh 10k too much.
Therein lies the problem: I have convinced myself that I can no longer run.
It is a Catch 22 situation. Is it really true I cannot run, or can’t I run because I haven’t run for so long and I’ve gotten fatter than John Candy after a couple of laps around the all-you-can eat smorgasbord?
It is sort of like if a tree falls in the woods and nobody hears it, does it make any sound? The sound you hear is me wheezing as I make my way to the mailbox.
Anyway, that is a ridiculous argument. Sure the tree makes a sound. Just because you are not up close and personal with a sequoia, that does not mean the hardwood turns to Nerf. Don’t you think every squirrel short of one wearing headphones listening to Jacques Rocque on maximum volume scatters when that tree starts to descend?
Rocket J. Squirrel tartare.
But back to running. I had a health scare two and a half years ago. I had some surgery and there were a few months when I truly could not get around very well. I’d walk up and down the basement stairs to get some exercise.
The plan was to get back at it when I had healed.
Well, I’ve healed, but I am not back at it. I walk the dogs around the neighborhood. I park further away than I need to at the grocery store. I try to eat well but well, eating poorly tastes so good.
So I am buying pants with bigger waist sizes. I am wearing shirts that always seem a little too snug. I tell myself it is time to run, but I never get to the starting line.
I’m not worried about a tree making any sound if it falls in the woods when nobody is there to listen to it. I am worried about hearing myself wheeze.
See you on the track. I’ll be the one with the Tim Horton’s bag.