Addicted

Endorphins baby, yeah!

Since I’m a runner I’m aware of the “runner’s high”. While it can’t be compared with, say, cocaine or black tar heroine, it has none of those pesky side effects like emaciated weight-loss, lengthy prison sentences or death.

Last week, while I did some mega-running (literal not actual) around and time away from work, I was able to pick up a new set of running shoes. The irony was so palpable that I bottled the extra and sold it to people who lack a sense of humor.

Mostly Republicans and those living in Michigan.

My old shoes had protested their abuse, which can be read in the novel they released “I Left My Heart on the Treadmill” and they are now out on a book tour. Their replacements are some kind of New Balance running show that I’m quite impressed with. I’m not enough of a runner to warrant a set of Nike supreme-blessed-by-God-Himself shoes that run close to $200, although I wish I was. Instead, I went to our local Shoe Central, a warehouse type affair that operates under the prevailing philosophy of: You’re lucky you got through the door for free.

Their prices are reasonable, but their selection is pretty hit or miss. Indeed, at times their selection is akin to that of the Good Will. You might find the shoe you’re looking for, but it won’t be in your size or the condition that you would prefer.

Anyhow, Friday I had off, so Lil and I went running, but I hadn’t been able to run the two days before that, or the two days since.

Today, my body is going into a kind of drug-addicts withdrawal. I can’t think of anything but scoring 30 minutes on the tread mill. My hands shake except when I tie my shoe laces. Some guy saw me sweating and offered me a pair of Adidas that had “fallen off a truck”.

He seemed like a nice guy, which is probably why the police wanted to shake his hands. Both of them. Behind his back.

So today, I’m ready to run. My train-friend, Tim, asked me what I was running for? I related the stand-by runner’s joke:

Two guys were walking in the woods when a bear jumped out at them and began to chase them. Suddenly, one of the men stopped and started to tie his shoe lace.

“Dude! What are you doing?” cried his friend who also stopped.

“I don’t have to outrun the bear,” the friend replied. “I just have to outrun you!”

That’s me, baby! Yeah!