Tuesday, October 2, 2012

I’m out of runway. Took my sweet time, uh, mentally preparing for the 5K, put it off, put it off some more, and borrowed even more time using sloth as my only collateral. But now, with the event only six weeks away, inaction is no longer an option. You may recall the training regimen called for an eight-week commitment, so I’m already in the hole. I’m behind, and the race hasn’t even begun.

The last time we spoke on the subject, I described 5K as “three units of ugh.” I’ve since refined my terminology and the proper phrasing is “three units of despair.” More important than the wording change, however, has been the hard data I’ve slathered over my brain to propel me to action. I’ve employed Google Maps to calculate the exact mileage of different loops in the neighborhood. Practiced the 100-up. Set my sights on “college weight,” that mythical, bygone target, 20 pounds in the distance.

Training begins on Thursday. I realize exercise is only part of the equation, and diet is also important. Honestly, though? Not going to happen. I only have so much to give! Were I more responsible, lunch today would’ve consisted of a salad and flax seeds or some such shit. Instead, I downed a Screamin’ Korean sandwich and two fistfuls of fries. At the time, I wanted to honor the fusion nature of the restaurant, but the only thing I combined, I guess, was the unhealthy with the egregiously unhealthy.