Going the Social Distance

Sir, something has to be done to combat the panic. It’s not a panic, you fool! It's stress eating.

March 16^th, 2020

Nevada’s governor orders closure of all nonessential businesses for the next 30 days. Gyms and public pools are on his list. 

Oh man, COVID-19 lock-down has postponed my triumphant return to the gym and the swimming pool. Unfortunately, the governor’s strict orders leave limited workout options. P90X? Burpees and push-ups? Wall sits and planks? All good possibilities for winter confinement, but the weather is amazing right now! So it pains me to write this... the time has come to lace up my running sneakers. 

With tons of free time and fresh air after work, the best cardio exercise for these trying days ahead is running. Not the worst option on the table. Yet, running is pretty freaking crappy at my weight and fitness level following months upon months of little to no real activity. To make matters worse the words of the immortal ODJ race through my head. “I only run from cops and bears.” Vegas ain’t got no bears, and I pull over when the lights begin flashing. 

It’s time to run Forest! 

Sure wish I had lost fifty pounds before the apocalypse began. (That stupid two-month Tough Mudder Bootcamp experiment was nothing but an exercise pep-rally.)

My first runs did not disappoint. Fat thighs rubbing, wheezing, and cotton-mouth really boosted the confidence. Mothers shielded their young children from the sight of this physical specimen galloping down the sidewalk. “Mommy, mommy! The big man looks hurt.” She shoots the concerned child a look of “Don’t stare, it is impolite.” The mother then quickly shoots me a look of “Please wait to expire until you’re around the corner. I have a roast in the crockpot, and the bike cop will want a written statement.”

As the virus keeps our routines on pause, I will continue to run my runs. Slow and painfully. Share a prayer that the hoarding herds overlook IcyHot and Gold Bond in pursuit of toilet paper.