Good evening, able-bodied readers. Yet again, I’ve been delinquent
in writing, and since it seems like I say that every time, I offer no apology.
In keeping with my Lenten resolution to ‘do more’, I figured writing fell under
that broad umbrella, and so here I am. Granted, it’s much easier to sit down to
write, or think, or do anything when you’re cooped up in bed or on the couch
with some mysterious illness, which is where I find myself this evening. The
truth is, I felt as though I had been under-appreciating my excellent health as
of late, and decided I should get sick just so I wouldn’t go on taking it for
granted. Mission accomplished, and the fact that today consisted of hours upon
hours of NCAA basketball is, of course, mere coincidence.
Which brings me to my main point; If I had been my usual
bright-eyed, chipper self today, I shouldn’t be stuck on the couch but instead
out for a run (see: Lenten resolution). I’ve been thinking a good deal about
running lately, mostly because it’s painful and I don’t like it. And I think
I’ve figured out why. Not because it makes you breathe heavily, or turns your
legs to jelly, or makes you get up at the crack of dawn. No, it’s because it’s
extremely inefficient.
Running is peculiar in that the more you do it, the less
effective it becomes (I suppose the same could be said of alcohol tolerance,
but that’s besides the point). I refer you now to the following chart:
If you are in
terrible shape, running a mile will do you a lot more good than it would to
someone in decent shapre. Your heart will work like an ox, you’ll be sweating
to high heaven, and likely cursing like a sailor. And you will have gotten a
good workout. Whereas the person in decent shape would only be getting warmed
up. Indeed, as the chart above clearly illustrates, by the time a person in
decent shape were to get a ‘good workout’, someone in terrible shape would be,
most likely, dead.
This is what has been bothering me: the more I run, the
better shape I get in, and the farther I have to run next time to feel as good
about myself. What I want from a run is to feel exhausted and be able to
congratulate myself on working so hard, but the harder I work, the harder that
result is to achieve! What. The. Hell.
Still, and I’m literally speaking from the heart here, I’d
rather be in better shape than worse. It just takes so long to get there, but I
guess that’s what those inconvenient Lenten resolutions are for: make you run
(and write) even when you don’t want to.
That’s all folks, until next time.
Ian
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