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We would have also accepted 'S.E.A. Fitness' and 'Twenty-Twenty-Twenty-Four Hours To Go, I Wanna Be Yogalated!'

It's hard to know where I am physically after the first run of the season. I say "season" here because physical fitness isn't really a full-time job for me. I came out of the 30-minute treadmill run feeling pretty good, but the proof is in The Day After. Not necessarily how I feel the day after, but rather how I respond to an identical 30-minute treadmill run.

It was a slow day at work - what with those lousy bankers and mailmen getting it off for Columbus Day - so I took an hour in the afternoon to sign up at 24 Hour Fitness. Why 24 Hour Fitness? Because it's a half-mile from my work and we have a corporate deal with them where all Nordstrom Employees get a decent rate with no activation fees upon signing. The beauty of synergy; I DON'T EVEN HAVE TO THINK EVER AGAIN!

God, why am I so bitter? I'm only 27.

Anyway, I got the tour from a cute female person named Nikki. I didn't really need the tour, because like the dead horse I've beaten, I only use the treadmill and maybe the occasional weight bench. Pretty much, I'm willing to pay $35 a month for a climate controlled room with shitty music and TVs showing Malcom In The Middle re-runs. And I guess when I said in response to her question of why I'm joining, "Mostly for cardio at first, then maybe later on work in some weightlifting," she took that as a sign of extreme interest in pumping iron. Because when I go in there on Thursday at 4:30, I'm getting the introductory tour from some Asian dude who specializes in looking like Arnold Schwarzenegger.

That made me a sad panda, but then I got to thinking about it and it's not so bad. I really should temper my cardio with some weights. But, I'm gonna tell him, "Look, I want to focus A. on abdominals and B. on legs and thighs." Mostly because I'm tired of walking my shitty bike up the big hills to and from work. A female co-worker of mine, who lives twice as far in South Seattle, got to work today in 25 minutes. I got there in 35. She's a couple hairs over 5 feet tall, probably 105 pounds soaking wet and she's Lance Armstrong to my John Candy. Of course, from what I gather, she's been biking from the womb, so it's not like I'm saying I should be awesomer than her or anything. I'm just saying I'm like Homer Simpson in that episode where he decides to become a boxer. I think you remember the scene: he's sparring with his trainer Moe, he throws a punch that lands directly on a passing fly that buzzes off undaunted, then he pants and wheezes his way over to have a long sit-down on the ropes. WOO HOO, LOOK AT THAT BLUBBER FLY!

(cancel my one o'clock)

What I'd really like to do - and it's not something I generally talk about very often because that might be construed as an oral committment - is be able to finish a half-marathon. I know I'm supposed to say "full marathon" there, but let's just Baby Step our way to 13.5 miles before we go nuts. And, to be able to do a half-marathon, what do we need? That's right, strong core muscles and big beefy muscley thighs. Or, at least thighs toned enough to take a pounding and keep on bounding.

Ehh, but if I started getting involved in marathons, I'm gonna have to start hanging around "running people." Some old hairy guy in short-shorts with his junk flopping around; bony-assed chicks who know how to track their heartrates like that means ANYTHING. People cheering you on and being supportive; it's so Everybody Gets A Trophy Day. Why do I have to actually participate in the damned thing, with the number pinned to my back and the cups of water people hand you? Can't I just plot the course and do it the day-after when nobody's around and SAY I did a half-marathon? I mean, it's not like I'd ever win the damned thing anyway! And what's the point of being in a race if you have no shot of winning??? If you're not medalling, then you're just running 13.5 miles while bumping sweaty arms with a bunch of other people.

The more I think about it, the more I can't wait for the Zombie Uprising. At least then we'd be running with some purpose. Keeping yourself fit would REALLY be a matter of life and death. None of this diabetes horseshit. You think zombies give a fuck about diabetes??? Hell no! Whoever invented the treadmill needs to have their intestines ripped out and salaciously torn apart by the gnashing teeth of the living dead.

Go watch George A. Romero's "Land of the Dead". Best zombie movie ever (not including 28 Days Later which isn't even about zombies anyway; nor including Shawn Of The Dead which is a comedy).
 
 
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