I've wanted to start jogging for a long time now. I have a lot of free time this upcoming year, seeing as how I have, maybe, six friends in the entire northern VA area, and I figure I can either spend this time getting in better shape or getting in worse shape, which is how I've spent most of the free time in my life thus far. Finally, yesterday, I told myself I couldn't put it off any longer and went for a run. First off, I don't know how I USED to run in high school, but I don't remember waking up the next day unable to move the lower half of my body. This is a new development in the physiology of Steve. Apparently, my body likes the shape it is in. I'm not sure how far I ran yesterday, but I'm pretty sure it wasn't more than a mile, which, by the standards of everyone in the world who can see their genitalia over their stomachs, is pretty bad. At this point, I can make one of three decisions:
1.) start dieting (right...I eat like most barnyard animals, and I rather enjoy it)
2.) resume a life of sloth and just pray that one day they will invent a machine that exercises for me
3.) keep up the regiment of jogging small distances every day, coming back when my body utterly gives out on me, and bitching about it for the next twenty-four hours
I know which one I SHOULD pick, but #2 sounds damn appealing.