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Time Keeps on Slipping

I’m sulking a tiny bit because everyday it seems that I get a minute less to workout.

Today, after replying to e-mails, finishing off a memo, and following up on a half a dozen half-managed projects for an hour, I got down to the company gym at 8:12, and by 8:15 I was ready for a 15 minute run.

I warmed up for a slow two and a half minutes, and then held the button on the treadmill until I was racing forward at 6:40. Keeping focused on the exit signs that I imagine were red rabbits taunting me on, I ran two miles until time ran out. It was a quasi-satisfying run, the bliss of which was somewhat dampened because I cling to ancient standards which make me feel like a turtle trying to outrun a tiger.

Ten years ago I ran the New York City marathon at 6:45 for practically the whole 26 miles, and as a guide to a blind semi-pro Russian runner no less. A great experience, well worth reliving vicariously over and over again, or at least until friends’ polite tolerance wears thin and I begin to hear “I’ve heard it before,” “You’ve told that story,” “You’re clinging to old glory,” “Oh, no, not again!”

I will say though that regardless of my nostalgic shortcomings, I was fairly proud of myself, considering that I had to run those two miles to the awful beat of The Best of Depeche Mode. Yikes! For that’s not the only thing that was out of mode. Apparently, its Rye’s favorite album—he’s the staff member with the mullet and a moustache.

I believe he’s been working in the gym for about twelve years now, his boss has been there for 25 years or more. And considering that the gym is three-feet underground, its no wonder that after all that time buried under there that they might have lost touch with all things contemporary.

Bruce Springstein, Madonna
way before Nirvana
there was U2 and Blondie
and music still on MTV (woohoohoo)
her two kids in high school
they tell her that she's uncool
cuz she's still preoccupied
with 19, 19, 1985
~ Bowling For Soup

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