Shame, Shmame!

It was with a bit of shame that I kept on driving through town the other day… Why the shame? Well, I’ve been slacking in the running department. As I write this, I am looking at some websites in a search of places to run this weekend. (I recommend, since it has a lot of listings for many races in your area.) Anyway, I felt shame at myself for driving through town in the air-conditioned Jeepster while some guy, who was about my age (and girth), ran down the road with a big old smile on his face.

So I laced up the shoes today and went out and did a cool 4 miles. Okay, so it wasn’t cool. Humidity was at 100% and the heat index was somewhere in the neighborhood of 10,000. Less than a mile into the run, my shirt was soaked through and through (and through) with salty, Mexican sweat (which I hear is Chipotle-flavored). I was very uncomfortable, but I had to do it. I had to do it for myself, to get rid of the shame… and the belly.

Some will say that shame is bad. Nudists will say that you shouldn’t be ashamed of your body. Well, believe you me, when you’re carrying around an extra 30, or so, pounds, you’re “the kind of guy that puts the emergency brakes on a orgy real fast.” So there will be no nude sightings of me… Not yet anyway. Kidding.

Okay, I better get back to the business of being me. This was just a pointless post.

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