That's Not an Earthquake, That's Me Running

"I feel the earth move under my feet" Carole King

3 o'clock didn't come fast enough today. After stepping on my bathroom scale this morning and hearing it scream for mercy (I'm lying, it's a digital scale), I had another "wake-up call." Yes, consuming mass quantities of beer and food this past weekend at Atlantic City certainly expanded my waistline in a hurry. It's not my fault that Harrah's gave my wife a free room. Hey, she turned "50" on Sunday, and we had to celebrate. It IS my fault that I had absolutely no problem taking advantage of the free beer while gambling. A $10 tip ahead of time was adequate motivation for waitress "Tammy" to make sure I never went more than 15 minutes empty handed. So what if it wasn't Sam Adams. After all, Coors Light is my second favorite beer after all. 183.5, yes, 183.5. I like to be 175, I'll accept 179.99. I'm typing it so I have a motivational visual. I need to get serious this week, and I started today. A 41:15 (8:15/M) 5 miler is a good start-no, it's a DAMN good start. I need to make time to run, or run when it's dark (it's now dark by 5 p.m.). OK, 'nuff said. Talk is cheap. As Nike says, I have to "Just do it."