runner’s low

I’ve never really understood the concept of the runner’s high. Friends who are avid runners tell me that they feel this burst of energy during and after running. I’ve never experienced that. I’ve hated running as far back as I can remember, which is weird because at various times in my life I have loved activities that require a lot of running.

In high school one of my favorite activities was playing football out at the wood chips next to the gym. I remember sadly recalling those days when I visited my old alma mater and found that the wood chips were gone. Back then it was pretty easy to get on the football team (one of the benefits I guess of going to a relatively nerdy school). I had several friends who were on the team who tried to convince me to join, often wearing their red jerseys and saying how they were great chick magnets. So I went to a practice. When I saw that practice started with running laps wearing the football gear I decided it wasn’t worth it. It’s funny how thoughts change as you get older. Gosh if I had that incentive to run nowadays, I would run every day.

I guess running does have its incentives though. I’m sure there’s some health benefits to it. It’s probably good for your heart and stuff. So it’s probably worthwhile to run anyways. But instead of focusing on those benefits, I’ve turned running into a sort of punishment. A punishment for gluttony. And we all know how much of a glutton I am.

I came back from my little biking trip in the best shape I’ve been in for at least a couple of years. So I’ve decided that I wanted to try to keep that shape, or even improve on it. So I instituted this punishment where if I eat a crapload of food, I force myself to go for a run at night. Running is never fun for me, but it’s even worse under these circumstances.

Last week I went out for all-you-can-eat Korean barbecue with a few friends. So when I got home I forced myself to go for a run. It actually started out surprisingly ok. It’s funny, I started to smell Korean barbecue again. It’s as if running and sweating had caused kalbi and bulgoki marinade to start oozing out of my pores. That was kind of nice. Of course this is coming from a guy that loves the smell of barbecue. If they ever make a korean barbecue cologne I would buy it. I’m not sure that many people love the smell as much as I do so for them maybe it wouldn’t be pleasant.

After a while the running had jostled the contents of my stomach so I started to feel like to puke. Plus I think it had loosened my bowels. I was more than a mile away from home at this point. Getting home under such circumstances is a delicate balance. Go too fast and there’s the risk of explosion, either above or below. Go too slow and the ticking time bomb down below explodes anyways. Hobbling home while trying not to jostle the contents of my stomach while clenching the uhhh glutes is pretty tough. But somehow I made it home in perfect timing, with the time bomb counting down right as I made it to the safety of the porcelain bunker.

You’d think I would’ve learned my lesson from that close call, but I ended up doing the same thing again last night after eating all-you-can-eat wings. I did learn one important lesson though. I learned that if you eat spicy chicken wings, you better wash your hands thoroughly before removing your contact lenses, otherwise you’re in for some major burn.

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