The other day, I shared with Vicky the fact that I had jogged 10 miles that morning. Actually, I refer to it as “slogged”, not “jogged”. “Slogged” means “slow jogged”. And, believe me, I’m slow.
Vicky suggested that I was getting close to half a marathon and maybe I could think about getting into something like that.
… I thought she was kidding…
I told her, “I don’t think you understand just how slowly I jog. I jog really slow.”
“I’m sure plenty of people do marathons slowly,” she countered.
I just couldn’t get her to understand the depths to which my slowness plumbs.
And so, I have decided that I will share with you, my reading public – both of you – just how slowly I jog 10 miles…
I sit at the bus stop for 34 minutes. When the bus comes, I take it for .896 miles… and then I walk the rest.
I sit with my phone and watch a “Murder, She Wrote” marathon. After the 17th episode, I realize I’m thirsty and walk to the nearest 7-11 for a Big Gulp Slurpee.
Bathroom break. I hurry to the nearest bathroom, stopping only briefly to eat a gallon of ice cream, take a nap, and get a manicure.
Stop by to get a massage.
Stop to get another massage because I just learned about “Happy Endings”. Sadly, the masseuse has me thrown into jail for soliciting.
Several days later, I am released. Famished, I stop by Subway for a footlong tuna sandwich, a “Big & Beefy” sandwich, a “Chicken O’lay” sandwich, three meatball subs, four packs of chips, and a Diet Coke. I never eat more than seven sandwiches as I am watching my weight.
After a slow meander, I “binge watch” the last season of Newsroom. Then, I stop for some Never Ending Pasta at Olive Garden, get checked into the hospital to have my stomach pumped, and catch a ride home.
I guess what I’m saying is I’m slow.