running

I run a lot these days. I won't say too much about the actual running, because if there's one thing I hate more than fat people, it's amateur athletes who take themselves so seriously and think that their minor feats of prowess deserve lengthy emails or barside diatribes the lengths of which bragging have not been seen since the last time Lance Armstrong made someone write a book for him. They go on about how motherfucking low their heart rate is, and how once it only beat four times in a minute, about mileage and shoes and this marathon was great but this other race was twice as long, and thus greater. When these people are running, I want to throw a stick between their legs.

Anyway, my running has been good. It's escapism, like drinking, except it's totally socially acceptable. If I leave work for a while to go running, people nod and smile and approve of me taking two hours out of my workday. If I leave work to go drinking, they frown and shake their heads and whisper about intervention and how I "looked rough this morning." This is why I lie when I leave work to go drinking.

Besides that, everything is the same. After a while, I feel loose and happy and a little buzzed. Soon after that, my mouth is dry and my body aches and I just want to great a shit ton of greasy food and go back to bed.

So running. It's just like drinking, for when you can't be drinking.

Oh, and I've heard it's healthier.