Running. With Flaubert.


Let’s frame up the mood this morning.

I step on and off the scale. It could be worse. What’s of greater concern is the lack of disgust. Why not just paint a large white flag on the belly and add in large font: “Yes, I quit.” Middle aged man on the down side.

It’s 8:00 am. Zeke and I are laying in bed and I’m scanning the morning papers. It wasn’t so long ago that I would have run 10 miles by 8:30 am and be done with breakfast.  Now, I’m just thinking about breakfast.

The ladies of the house are off to Yoga. Men don’t do Yoga. This man anyway. Too many sweaty bodies in close proximity. Lululemon pants exposing things I don’t need to see. Rubber mats. Rubber room. Claustrophobia. Get me out of here.

Earlier in the week, Rachel pointed out that I’m wearing a track suit (expandable waist) with increasing frequency.  I brush her off but the hit is direct, the wound lingers.

Yes, I’ve become  Abigail Thomas‘ large and growing Inaction Figure: Torpor. Languor. Stupor.

The lack of disgust hasn’t fully evaporated, it looms like a low lying nimbostratus cloud. I take inventory of the last night’s feeding. Chicken salad, plus Burrito. Banana. Potato chips. Yogurt laced with Grape Jelly. Almonds. Pita bread. And several trips to the pantry for bite-sized Hersey Special Dark Miniatures with Almonds.  Miniatures. Right. It’s called alchemy. Miniature turns to Massive after 8 of them.  And hiding the wrappers deep in the trash can? Who’s fooling who here?

I continue scanning the morning papers and note a book review of Lenoir’s ‘Happiness‘ where the reviewer asks: “Was Flaubert right when he wrote that stupidity, selfishness and good health ‘are three requirements for happiness, though if stupidity is lacking, all is lost?'”

I roll out of bed. Gather my gear and head out for a run with Zeke. It’s 57° F. Spring. Finally. A spectacular day. There are cool breeze gusts flash drying the sweat and keeping the chassis cool.  Yet, Flaubert is ever close. Stupidity, selfishness and good health.

I am bloody happy. Very happy actually. Sweet Jesus Flaubert!

Time Check: 5.3 miles. 51 minutes.

Nap time.



  1. Finally good weather here, too. I’m so happy and your post definitely helped!

    Liked by 1 person

  2. I’m so with you.
    Not the running bit.
    The hiding of candy wrappers…

    Liked by 1 person

  3. Great writing Dave, you are far too honest ha! Still a thousand miles begins with one run (Step) and you will definitely feel more motivated now that Spring has sprung! You motivate us all expressing a “real life story.” 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

  4. Christie says:

    My former neighbor an Olympic runner would encourage you to keep running! I will not cop to how many eggless banana -sunflower choc. chip cookies I ate in my war with the lure of carbs, today. (wonderful recipe)

    Liked by 1 person

  5. Christie says:

    I hung up my Puma’s and Nike’s years ago after an auto accident. I miss the runner’s high.:)

    Liked by 1 person

  6. Lack of disgust? It’s called acceptance. But you’re not quite there yet, you reflect. And it makes you run. Just beautiful.

    Liked by 1 person

  7. an excellent turn-around. )


  8. Yay for you!

    Liked by 1 person

  9. LOL!! Love it!

    Liked by 1 person

  10. Yes!! A running post, and vintage DK may I add–loved the clarification on alchemy. Hang in there, pal….

    Liked by 1 person

  11. Congratulations, buddy. I wish you had another motivator besides disgust.

    Liked by 1 person

  12. What if you allowed yourself the pleasure of eating Hersey’s miniatures? Without hiding the wrappers?

    Liked by 1 person

  13. OMG…LOLOLOLOLOLOL!!!!!! Can I even choose the funniest part??? By the way, what are Lululemon pants?

    Liked by 1 person

  14. This right here: And hiding the wrappers deep in the trash can? Who’s fooling who here?

    Liked by 1 person

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