2 Miles

I went to my parents' house last night for dinner, and stuffed myself but good. It was a nice visit. When I drove up, I saw that my oldest brother's family was there, and I was kinda bummed, but I ended up having a good time playing with the kids. At any rate, by the time I got home I was feeling really, well, fat, so I decided to hit the track.

And I started with some nice walking laps, then a jogging lap, then a full-blown running attempt that lasted less than 3/4 of a lap, then I settled into my regular jogging pace. And after I'd done my recent maximum of 8 laps, I decided I felt good enough that I'd shoot for 10, which on this track is 2 miles. Which I did. When I was in jr high and high school and forced to run miles, I don't think I ever managed to actually go so much as a mile without stopping to walk huge chunks of the distance. So that was a satisfying achievement.

Of course, I still feel both fat and that every other aspect of my life is a virtually unmitigated disaster. But at least I am physically capable of running a couple miles.