I’m very self-conscious when I run. And Dom’s reassurance of nobody’s looking at you is hard to believe because when I’m out driving and see someone running, I’m looking at them. The weird thing about anxiety is that when I’m running, I’m assuming people are laughing at my posture, slow pace, or dope-ass dad bod. But when I see people running, I’m usually thinking, go get it, girl (or boy, as the situation demands).
That, of course, is a contradiction in perception that any psycho-analyzer worth their diploma would immediately pounce on. The answer, of course, is now when people drive by or walk by or run by, I assume they’re thinking in their head: go get it, Daniel. And I will. I will go get it.
You go get it too.
BTW, these new Mizuno Wave Runner 22’s I picked up from Zappos are awesome. So very comfy, though I did have to order a half-size bigger.
Been seeing a lot of sunrises lately. I like going for a run in the morning, at first light, which is around 6:15/6:30 this time of year. There aren’t many people out, not many cars to deal with. Just a lot of rabbits and one time a mountain lion. I bet you didn’t know they had mountain lions in Pflugerville, but they do. The Pflugerville Mountains are famous for them.
It has been about a month of running every other day. My legs and feet ache. I haven’t lost a single pound.
Still, I do enjoy the sunrises. And the rabbits. And the fact that running is just for me, and I do it alone, and during those 40-50 minutes, I’m focused only on my breathing and putting one foot in front of the other.
Running on a treadmill is terrible. All exercise, is in fact, inherently wrong. We’re all going to wake up in our stasis tubes some day and shake our heads at the amount of time and pain we spent trying to keep virtual avatars “healthy.”
The only silver lining is that I get to relive my childhood by watching reruns of Married With Children, which stands in stark comparison to the show Dom is currently “making” me watch at home, Baby Daddy. I think it boils down to realism. Baby Daddy is like a Disney cartoon: bright colors, beautiful people, and edgy, I-can’t-believe-they-said-that veiled references to testicles. MWC is the opposite: muted colors, normal people, and constant cutting-down of family members, which is how you’re supposed to show love.
Some of the references are dated, but it’s easy to see how this show inspired the modern “edgy” sitcom, shows like Veep and Always Sunny in Philadelphia. Shows where they just don’t hold back. It’s like watching an episode of Rick and Morty, where you can’t believe people have the freedom to write shows with content that is really, really, really wrong.
Anyway, big thanks to TBS for showing this at 5 in the morning in Austin. I don’t know what I’m going to do when they change up the programming.