Mile Marker Eighty-Four
Well, life ain’t all depressing.
However, just when you thought things couldn’t get much more depressing, it turns out that, in wintertime, there’s a lot of static electricity in my gym, and whenever I touch the metal handrails on my treadmill, I get a nasty shock. So you either touch the handrails the whole entire time, or never touch them at all, neither of which is an effective solution. So — not only are you on the treadmill, for three miles, for more than an hour, with (today) the cable out, and nothing on television, and nothing to read but the Sportsman-of-the-Year Brett Favre hagiography in Sports Illustrated – not only do you have to deal with all that, but you’re subjected to random electric shocks the entire time. Why in God’s name would anyone put up with this nonsense?
Oh, yeah, to lose weight and be healthy.
Sigh.
(And did you hear that Peter King broke his nose? Yeah, turns out Brett Favre came to a sudden stop.)
Eighty-four miles down, sixteen miles to go.
